parties, crying
out at the top of his voice, 'A moi, D'Aubijoux! You gained three
thousand ducats from me; here are three sword-thrusts for you. 'A moi',
La Chapelle! I will have ten drops of your blood in exchange for my ten
pistoles!' and I myself saw him attack these gentlemen and many more of
both sides, loyally enough, it is true--for he struck them only in front
and on their guard--but with great success, and with a most revolting
impartiality."

"Yes, Monsieur, and I was about to tell him my opinion," interposed De
Lude, "when I saw him escape through the crowd like a squirrel, laughing
greatly with some suspicious looking men with dark, swarthy faces; I
do not doubt, however, that Monsieur de Cinq-Mars sent him, for he gave
orders to that Ambrosio whom you must know--that Spanish prisoner, that
rascal whom he has taken for a servant. In faith, I am disgusted with
all this; and I was not born to mingle with this canaille."

"This, Monsieur," replied Fournier, "is very different from the affair
at Loudun. There the people only rose, without actually revolting; it
was the sensible and estimable part of the populace, indignant at an
assassination, and not heated by wine and money. It was a cry raised
against an executioner--a cry of which one could honorably be the
organ--and not these howlings of factious hypocrisy, of a mass of
unknown people, the dregs of the mud and sewers of Paris. I confess that
I am very tired of what I see; and I have come to entreat you to speak
about it to Monsieur le Grand."

De Thou was very much embarrassed during this conversation, and sought
in vain to understand what Cinq-Mars could have to do with the people,
who appeared to him merely merrymaking; on the other hand, he persisted
in not owning his ignorance. It was, however, complete; for the last
time he had seen his friend, he had spoken only of the King's horses and
stables, of hawking, and of the importance of the King's huntsmen in the
affairs of the State, which did not seem to announce vast projects in
which the people could take a part. He at last timidly ventured to say:

"Messieurs, I promise to do your commission; meanwhile, I offer you
my table and beds as long as you please. But to give my advice in
this matter is very difficult. By the way, it was not the fete of
Sainte-Barbe I saw this morning?"

"The Sainte-Barbe!" said Fournier.

"The Sainte-Barbe!" echoed Du Lude. "They burned powder."

"Oh, yes, yes! that