f cavaliers richly dressed, and what was more to the purpose,
well armed. Suddenly a mocking cry from Armand informed us who it was
that paraded the streets thus numerously attended.

"Bring your torches nearer, gentlemen, that we may observe the red hat
of our little friend the better!" he exclaimed.

A burst of mocking laughter greeted this speech, as every one knew how
De Retz had been tricked by Mazarin, and how furious he was at having
failed to obtain a Cardinal's hat. Even the bystanders, most of whom
were the Abbe's friends, joined in the laugh, for your true Parisian
loves nothing so much as ridicule.

"Poor little man," cried one of the gallants, with assumed sympathy,
"it is difficult for him to hit on the exact shade to suit his beauty
best!"

Now, as De Retz was one of the ugliest men in France, this pleasantry
was not likely to be well received, and I ran to the front with the
idea of preserving peace. At the same time the Abbe, followed by my
cousin, left the carriage, and the cavaliers pressed up from behind.
Instead of retreating, Armand stood his ground firmly, and continued
waving his lighted torch in the face of the Abbe, crying, "Make way for
His Eminence! The Cardinal wishes to visit the ladies his mob tried to
murder!"

"Eh? What's that? Ladies? Murder? What do you mean?" cried the
Abbe, affecting not to notice the ridicule.

"Permit me to give your gentlemen the word," interposed Henri, "and
these popinjays shall soon be cleared from your path."

"The popinjays will take some time to clear!" remarked Armand laughing.
"I am not acquainted with any law which gives a private citizen, even
though he be a prospective cardinal, sole right to the streets of
Paris."

Now my cousin Henri was not noted for his lamb-like temper, so, without
waiting for the Abbe's commands, he drew his sword and rushed at
D'Arcy, crying, "On guard!"

Another instant and the Rue Michel would have become the scene of
fierce combat, but, unseen by us, a stranger quietly pushed his way
through the crowd, and placed himself without the least hesitation
between the combatants. I gazed at him with interest. He was a tall,
finely-built man, with a long, flowing beard, and the most resolute
face I had yet beheld in Paris. His eyes were bright, shrewd, and
piercing, his chin was square and firm, every line of his features
betokened power and the habit of command. Looking at him one was
tempted to exclaim, "Here