“XI.  Now it was in this same place that the blessed Saint Ambroise found the ashes of the two martyrs which gave sight to the blind.”

“Well,” said Cinq-Mars, looking at his friend when he had finished, “what do you say to that?”

“God’s will be done! but we should not scrutinize it.”

“Nor put off our designs for a child’s play,” said D’Effiat impatiently, and wrapping himself in a cloak which was thrown over him.  “Remember the lines we formerly so frequently quoted, ’Justum et tenacem Propositi viruna’; these iron words are stamped upon my brain.  Yes; let the universe crumble around me, its wreck shall carry me away still resolute.”

“Let us not compare the thoughts of man with those of Heaven; and let us be submissive,” said De Thou, gravely.

“Amen!” said old Grandchamp, whose eyes had filled with tears, which he hastily brushed away.

“What hast thou to do with it, old soldier?  Thou weepest,” said his master.

“Amen!” said a voice, in a nasal tone, at the entrance of the tent.

“Parbleu, Monsieur! rather put that question to his Gray Eminence, who comes to visit you,” answered the faithful servant, pointing to Joseph, who advanced with his arms crossed, making a salutation with a frowning air.

“Ah, it will be he, then!” murmured Cinq-Mars.

“Perhaps I come inopportunely,” said Joseph, soothingly.

“Perhaps very opportunely,” said Henri d’Effiat, smiling, with a glance at De Thou.  “What can bring you here, Father, at one o’clock in the morning?  It should be some good work.”

Joseph saw he was ill-received; and as he had always sundry reproaches to make himself with reference to all persons whom he addressed, and as many resources in his mind for getting out of the difficulty, he fancied that they had discovered the object of his visit, and felt that he should not select a moment of ill humor for preparing the way to friendship.  Therefore, seating himself near the bed, he said, coldly: 

“I come, Monsieur, to speak to you on the part of the Cardinal-Generalissimo, of the two Spanish prisoners you have made; he desires to have information concerning them as soon as possible.  I am to see and question them.  But I did not suppose you were still awake; I merely wished to receive them from your people.”

After a forced interchange of politeness, they ordered into the tent the two prisoners, whom Cinq-Mars had almost forgotten.

They appeared—­the one, young and displaying an animated and rather wild countenance, was the soldier; the other, concealing his form under a brown cloak, and his gloomy features, which had something ambiguous in their expression, under his broad-brimmed hat, which he did not remove, was the officer.  He spoke first: 

“Why do you make me leave my straw and my sleep?  Is it to deliver me or hang me?”

“Neither,” said Joseph.