Peste!_" exclaimed the officer in charge, "why, 'tis De Lalande
himself, only the peacock has put on daw's feathers. Well, my friend,
you have sent your goods to sea in a leaky boat this time."

He took a step towards me, and then stopped in astonishment.

"What mystery is this?" he cried. "Are you not Henri de Lalande? But,
no, I see the difference now. Ah, Henri is a clever fellow after all;
I thought he would not trust himself on this fool's errand. But you
are marvellously like him. Well, well; whoever you are, the Cardinal
is anxious to see you."

"I came on purpose to speak to him. Had I known he was so well
prepared to receive visitors I might have spared myself a troublesome
journey."

"And deprived His Eminence of a great pleasure! Unbuckle your sword,
and place your pistols on the table. The Cardinal is a man of peace,
and likes not martial weapons."

To resist was useless; so I surrendered sword and pistols, which the
officer handed to one of his men.

"Now," he said, "as you are so anxious to meet the Cardinal, I will
take you to him at once. This way."

We toiled up a narrow, steep, and dimly-lighted staircase, at the top
of which a soldier stood on guard, while another paced to and fro along
the narrow landing. Both these men, as well as those in the lower part
of the house, wore the Cardinal's livery.

There were three rooms, and, stopping outside the second, the officer
knocked at the door, while the soldier on duty stood close behind me.
For a time there was no answer, but presently a calm voice bade us
enter, and the next instant I stood face to face with the most powerful
man in France.

CHAPTER IV.

I Meet the Cardinal.

My glance travelled rapidly round the apartment, which was large,
lofty, and oddly furnished. A table littered with papers and
parchments occupied the centre; the walls were almost hidden by
hundreds of books and curious-looking maps; two globes stood in one
corner; on a wide shelf close by were several strange instruments, the
uses of which I did not understand; a pair of loosely hung curtains
screened the lower end of the room.

At the table sat two men of striking personal appearance.

One was a tall, venerable man with white beard and moustache, broad,
high forehead, and calm, thoughtful, gray eyes. He was older than his
companion, and the deeply-furrowed brow bespoke a life of much care,
perhaps sorrow. He was dressed in a brown robe, held lo