Gaston breathed again.

"You are sure, then, that you have not been recognized. You understand,
my dear friend, how painful it would be to me. You must admit
yourself--"

"Sure of it!" exclaimed the Prince's gentleman. "I would stake my head
and my share in Paradise that no one has seen my features or called my
by my name."

"Well," continued Gaston, again seating himself on his bed, and assuming
a calmer air, in which even a slight satisfaction was visible, "tell me,
then, what has happened."

Fontrailles took upon himself the recital, in which, as we may suppose,
the populace played a great part and Monsieur's people none, and in his
peroration he said:

"From our windows even, Monseigneur, respectable mothers of families
might have been seen, driven by despair, throwing their children into
the Seine, cursing Richelieu."

"Ah, it is dreadful!" exclaimed the Prince, indignant, or feigning to be
so, and to believe in these excesses. "Is it, then, true that he is so
generally detested? But we must allow that he deserves it. What! his
ambition and avarice have, then, reduced to this extremity the good
inhabitants of Paris, whom I love so much."

"Yes, Monseigneur," replied the orator. "And it is not Paris alone, it
is all France, which, with us, entreats you to decide upon delivering
her from this tyrant. All is ready; nothing is wanting but a sign from
your august head to annihilate this pygmy, who has attempted to assault
the royal house itself."

"Alas! Heaven is my witness that I myself forgive him!" answered Gaston,
raising up his eyes. "But I can no longer bear the cries of the people.
Yes, I will help them; that is to say," continued the Prince, "so that
my dignity is not compromised, and that my name does not appear in the
matter."

"Well, but it is precisely that which we want," exclaimed Fontrailles, a
little more at his ease.

"See, Monseigneur, there are already some names to put after yours, who
will not fear to sign. I will tell you them immediately, if you wish
it."

"But--but," said the Duc d'Orleans, timidly, "do you know that it is a
conspiracy which you propose to me so coolly?"

"Fie, Monseigneur, men of honor like us! a conspiracy! Oh! not at all;
a league at the utmost, a slight combination to give a direction to the
unanimous wish of the nation and the court--that is all."

"But that is not so clear, for, after all, this affair will be neither
general nor public; therefore, it is