to
the teeth, and all going to despatch me, like Concini; but the great
Vitry was not there. They very quietly let me talk for an hour with them
about the hunt and the Fete Dieu, and neither of them dared make a sign
to their cut-throats. I have since learned from Chavigny that for two
long months they had been waiting that happy moment. For myself,
indeed, I observed nothing, except that little villain, the Abbe de
Gondi,--[Afterward Cardinal de Retz.]--who prowled near me, and seemed
to have something hidden under his sleeve; it was he that made me get
into the coach."

"Apropos of the Abbe, my lord, the Queen insists upon making him
coadjutor."

"She is mad! he will ruin her if she connects herself with him; he's a
musketeer in canonicals, the devil in a cassock. Read his 'Histoire de
Fiesque'; you may see himself in it. He will be nothing while I live."

"How is it that with a judgment like yours you bring another ambitious
man of his age to court?"

"That is an entirely different matter. This young Cinq-Mars, my friend,
will be a mere puppet. He will think of nothing but his ruff and his
shoulder-knots; his handsome figure assures me of this. I know that he
is gentle and weak; it was for this reason I preferred him to his elder
brother. He will do whatever we wish."

"Ah, my lord," said the monk, with an expression of doubt, "I never
place much reliance on people whose exterior is so calm; the hidden
flame is often all the more dangerous. Recollect the Marechal d'Effiat,
his father."

"But I tell you he is a boy, and I shall bring him up; while Gondi is
already an accomplished conspirator, an ambitious knave who sticks at
nothing. He has dared to dispute Madame de la Meilleraie with me. Can
you conceive it? He dispute with me! A petty priestling, who has
no other merit than a little lively small-talk and a cavalier air.
Fortunately, the husband himself took care to get rid of him."

Father Joseph, who listened with equal impatience to his master when
he spoke of his 'bonnes fortunes' or of his verses, made, however, a
grimace which he meant to be very sly and insinuating, but which was
simply ugly and awkward; he fancied that the expression of his mouth,
twisted about like a monkey's, conveyed, "Ah! who can resist your
Eminence?" But his Eminence only read there, "I am a clown who knows
nothing of the great world"; and, without changing his voice, he
suddenly said, taking up a despatch from the table:

"