Cinq-Mars obeyed with a sigh, and had the patience for two long hours to listen to a summary of what his master had had the patience to write during the course of two years.  He yawned many times during the reading, as no doubt we should all do, were it needful to report this dialogue, which was found in perfect order, with his will, at the death of the King.  We shall only say that he finished thus: 

“In fine, hear what you did on the seventh of December, three days ago.  I was speaking to you of the flight of the hawk, and of the knowledge of hunting, in which you are deficient.  I said to you, on the authority of La Chasse Royale, a work of King Charles IX, that after the hunter has accustomed his dog to follow a beast, he must consider him as of himself desirous of returning to the wood, and the dog must not be rebuked or struck in order to make him follow the track well; and that in order to teach a dog to set well, creatures that are not game must not be allowed to pass or run, nor must any scents be missed, without putting his nose to them.

“Hear what you replied to me (and in a tone of ill-humor—­mind that!) ’Ma foi!  Sire, give me rather regiments to conduct than birds and dogs.  I am sure that people would laugh at you and me if they knew how we occupy ourselves.’  And on the eighth—­wait, yes, on the eighth—­while we were singing vespers together in my chambers, you threw your book angrily into the fire, which was an impiety; and afterward you told me that you had let it drop—­a sin, a mortal sin.  See, I have written below, lie, underlined.  People never deceive me, I assure you.”

“But, Sire—­”

“Wait a moment! wait a moment!  In the evening you told me the Cardinal had burned a man unjustly, and out of personal hatred.”

“And I repeat it, and maintain it, and will prove it, Sire.  It is the greatest crime of all of that man whom you hesitate to disgrace, and who renders you unhappy.  I myself saw all, heard, all, at Loudun.  Urbain Grandier was assassinated, rather than tried.  Hold, Sire, since you have there all those memoranda in your own hand, merely reperuse the proofs which I then gave you of it.”

Louis, seeking the page indicated, and going back to the journey from Perpignan to Paris, read the whole narrative with attention, exclaiming: 

“What horrors!  How is it that I have forgotten all this?  This man fascinates me; that’s certain.  You are my true friend, Cinq-Mars.  What horrors!  My reign will be stained by them.  What! he prevented the letters of all the nobility and notables of the district from reaching me!  Burn, burn alive! without proofs! for revenge!  A man, a people have invoked my name in vain; a family curses me!  Oh, how unhappy are kings!”

And the Prince, as he concluded, threw aside his papers and wept.

“Ah, Sire, those are blessed tears that you weep!” exclaimed Cinq-Mars, with sincere admiration.  “Would that all France were here with me!  She would be astonished at this spectacle, and would scarcely believe it.”