osite camp. I leave him in your charge. I must go
to the Duke, who has just discovered me, and fancies I am hatching
fresh plots. What a suspicious world it is!" and with this the
beautiful woman swept across the room, every one making way for her.

"That is Madame la Duchesse de Chevreuse," explained Raoul. "I suppose
she took you at first for Henri. She is one of our chief supporters,
though really she has done the cause more harm than Mazarin will ever
do. But come, there is an old friend yonder who wishes to see you."

He led me across the salon to where sat a fair girl with large, dreamy,
tender blue eyes, an oval face framed in a mass of golden hair,
delicate features, and a complexion like the bloom on a peach. This
was Marie de Brione, who, when a little girl, had lived near Vancey,
and had often played with Raoul and myself.

"I am going to scold you, Albert," she said smiling. "How is it you
are against us? I thought we three old friends were sure to stand
together. I could scarcely credit Raoul when he told me you had joined
the Cardinal."

"It is very unfortunate," I stammered, "but I imagined I was acting for
the best by helping Mazarin."

"You are a silly boy! When we have overthrown Mazarin we shall have to
put you in the Bastille!"

"And in the lowest dungeon," added Raoul.

"You will find me more generous," I laughed. "The Cardinal is sure to
win, and then I shall request him to forgive you two. Perhaps he will
pardon you if I beg very hard."

"You heap coals of fire on our heads! After all, it may be a good
thing to number one friend among our enemies."

"I am sure it will."

"Here is Marie's aunt," said Raoul. "I do not know what she will say
at finding us on friendly terms with a _Mazarin_."

Madame Coutance was a widow, though hardly older than her niece. She
was tall and graceful, with coils of dark hair covering her shapely
head. Her eyes were large, black, bright and flashing; she had a
straight nose, small mouth, with white even teeth, and tiny hands. I
had not met her before, but since the death of Marie's parents she had
taken the girl under her charge.

She entered heartily into Raoul's joke, pretending to regard me as a
terrible enemy, and declaring the Duke ought not to permit me to leave
the salon except as a prisoner. Jest and laughter made the time fly
swiftly, and I was sorry when at last Raoul and I attended the ladies
to their carriage.

"Do not for