lding a black portfolio, and the curtains
closed upon the King.

The Cardinal, left sole master of the court, concentrated all its
homage; but it was observed that he no longer received it with his
former presence of mind. He inquired frequently what time it was, and
exhibited an anxiety which was not assumed; his hard, unquiet glances
turned toward the smaller tent. It suddenly opened; the King appeared
alone, and stopped on the threshold. He was paler than usual, and
trembled in every limb; he held in his hand a large letter with five
black seals.

"Gentlemen," said he, in a loud but broken voice, "the Queen has just
died at Cologne; and I perhaps am not the first to hear of it," he
added, casting a severe look toward the impassible Cardinal, "but God
knows all! To horse in an hour, and attack the lines! Marechals, follow
me." And he turned his back abruptly, and reentered his cabinet with
them.

The court retired after the minister, who, without giving any sign of
sorrow or annoyance, went forth as gravely as he had entered, but now a
victor.

BOOK 3.

CHAPTER IX. THE SIEGE

There are moments in our life when we long ardently for strong
excitement to drown our petty griefs--times when the soul, like the lion
in the fable, wearied with the continual attacks of the gnat, earnestly
desires a mightier enemy and real danger. Cinq-Mars found himself in
this condition of mind, which always results from a morbid sensibility
in the organic constitution and a perpetual agitation of the heart.
Weary of continually turning over in his mind a combination of the
events which he desired, and of those which he dreaded; weary of
calculating his chances to the best of his power; of summoning to his
assistance all that his education had taught him concerning the lives
of illustrious men, in order to compare it with his present situation;
oppressed by his regrets, his dreams, predictions, fancies, and all that
imaginary world in which he had lived during his solitary journey-he
breathed freely upon finding himself thrown into a real world almost
as full of agitation; and the realizing of two actual dangers restored
circulation to his blood, and youth to his whole being.

Since the nocturnal scene at the inn near Loudun, he had not been
able to resume sufficient empire over his mind to occupy himself with
anything save his cherished though sad reflections; and consumption
was already threatening him, when happily he