n the world, and destiny ordained
us for each other. For, had you been but an ordinary man, I should have
taken you into my service at whatever price; but since heaven ordained
that you should be born a great King, it is inevitable that I belong to
you.' Oh, great man!" cried Bassompierre, with tears in his eyes, and
perhaps a little excited by the frequent bumpers he had drunk, "you said
well, 'When you have lost me you will learn my value.'"

During this interlude, the guests at the table had assumed various
attitudes, according to their position in public affairs. One of the
Italians pretended to chat and laugh in a subdued manner with the young
daughter of the Marechale; the other talked to the deaf old Abbe, who,
with one hand behind his ear that he might hear, was the only one who
appeared attentive. Cinq-Mars had sunk back into his melancholy
abstraction, after throwing a glance at the Marechal, as one looks aside
after throwing a tennis-ball until its return; his elder brother did the
honors of the table with the same calm. Puy-Laurens observed the mistress
of the house with attention; he was devoted to the Duc d'Orleans, and
feared the Cardinal. As for the Marechale, she had an anxious and
afflicted air. Careless words had often recalled the death of her husband
or the departure of her son; and, oftener still, she had feared lest
Bassompierre should compromise himself. She had touched him many times,
glancing at the same time toward M. de Launay, of whom she knew little,
and whom she had reason to believe devoted to the prime minister; but to
a man of his character, such warnings were useless. He appeared not to
notice them; but, on the contrary, crushing that gentleman with his bold
glance and the sound of his voice, he affected to turn himself toward
him, and to direct all his conversation to him. M. de Launay assumed an
air of indifference and of assenting politeness, which he preserved until
the moment when the folding-doors opened, and "Mademoiselle la Duchesse
de Mantua" was announced.

The conversation which we have transcribed so lengthily passed, in
reality, with rapidity; and the repast was only half over when the
arrival of Marie de Gonzaga caused the company to rise. She was small,
but very well made, and although her eyes and hair were black, her
complexion was as dazzling as the beauty of her skin. The Marechale arose
to acknowledge her rank, and kissed her on the forehead, in recognition
of her