e to his eyes; he bent over the dying
man, already half a corpse, and then hastily retired.

Chapter XLIX. The First Appearance of Colbert.

The whole night was passed in anguish, common to the dying man and to
the king: the dying man expected his deliverance, the king awaited his
liberty. Louis did not go to bed. An hour after leaving the chamber
of the cardinal, he learned that the dying man, recovering a little
strength, had insisted upon being dressed, adorned and painted, and
seeing the ambassadors. Like Augustus, he no doubt considered the world
a great stage, and was desirous of playing out the last act of the
comedy. Anne of Austria reappeared no more in the cardinal's apartments;
she had nothing more to do there. Propriety was the pretext for her
absence. On his part, the cardinal did not ask for her: the advice the
queen had giver her son rankled in his heart.

Towards midnight, while still painted, Mazarin's mortal agony came on.
He had revised his will, and as this will was the exact expression of
his wishes, and as he feared that some interested influence might take
advantage of his weakness to make him change something in it, he had
given orders to Colbert, who walked up and down the corridor which led
to the cardinal's bed-chamber, like the most vigilant of sentinels. The
king, shut up in his own apartment, dispatched his nurse every hour to
Mazarin's chamber, with orders to bring him back an exact bulletin
of the cardinal's state. After having heard that Mazarin was dressed,
painted, and had seen the ambassadors, Louis herd that the prayers
for the dying were being read for the cardinal. At one o'clock in the
morning, Guenaud had administered the last remedy. This was a relic of
the old customs of that fencing time, which was about to disappear to
give place to another time, to believe that death could be kept off
by some good secret thrust. Mazarin, after having taken the remedy,
respired freely for nearly ten minutes. He immediately gave orders that
the news should be spread everywhere of a fortunate crisis. The king, on
learning this, felt as if a cold sweat were passing over his brow;--he
had had a glimpse of the light of liberty; slavery appeared to him more
dark and less acceptable than ever. But the bulletin which followed
entirely changed the face of things. Mazarin could no longer breathe
at all, and could scarcely follow the prayers which the cure of
Saint-Nicholas-des-Champs recited near