osely round the
middle by silken cords; he wore slippers on his feet, and a tasselled
cap partly covered his scanty white hair. I put him down as the
astrologer.

The second man attracted and repelled me at the same time. He was in
the prime of life and undeniably handsome, while there was a look of
sagacity, almost of craft, in his face.

"A strong man," I thought, looking into his wonderful eyes. "Not
brave, perhaps, but dogged and tenacious. A man of cunning, too, who
will play a knave at his own game and beat him. And yet, somehow, one
would expect to find him occupied with paint-brush or guitar, rather
than with the affairs of State."

Stories of the powerful Cardinal had reached even my quiet home, but I
had never met him, and now stood looking at his face longer perhaps
than was in keeping with good manners.

"Hum!" said he, watching me closely, "you are very young for a
conspirator; you should be still with your tutor. What is your name?"

"Albert de Lalande," I replied.

"De Lalande!" he echoed in surprise. "The son of Charles de Lalande?"

"Your Eminence is thinking of my cousin Henri."

"Pouf! Are there two of you? So much the worse; one of the family is
sufficient. Eh, Martin?"

"This youth is like his cousin," replied the astrologer, "but I imagine
he knows little of Paris. I should say he is more at home in the
fields than in the streets."

"It seems he knows enough to be mixed up in a daring plot," said
Mazarin with a grim smile. "But, after all, my enemies do not rate my
powers highly when they send a boy like this against me. I believed I
was of more importance."

"No one sent me," I replied; "on the contrary, I came to warn you, but
I need have had no fear for you, I find."

The Cardinal sighed. "The wolves do not always get into the
sheep-fold," he murmured gently, at which, remembering the body of
armed men below, I felt amused.

He was about to speak again, when, after tapping at the door, an
officer entered the room. His clothes were torn and soiled, there was
a smear of blood on the sleeve of his coat, and he glanced at his
master sheepishly.

"Alone!" exclaimed the latter in astonishment, upon which the soldier
approached him and began to speak in whispers. Mazarin was evidently
displeased, but he listened courteously to the end.

"What bad luck!" he cried. "I thought they were all nicely trapped.
However, no doubt you did your best. Now go and let a surgeon a