to this room," he
said to the valet. He then stationed two gentlemen of the musketeers
behind his chair, sat down and waited, a grimace of pain twisting his
lips.

Meanwhile the Chevalier entered the gallery, following Bernouin. His
face wore a puzzled, troubled expression. All this ado somewhat
confused him.

"He is handsome," said Madame de Montbazon; "handsomer than ever his
father was."

"He is more than handsome," said Beaufort, whose astonishment was
genuine; "he is brave. What the devil brings him here into the wolf's
maw?"

"His innocence. You see I was correct;" and madame's face grew placid
again. So satisfied was she that she did not notice Beaufort's pallor
nor the fever which burned in his brilliant eyes.

When the Chevalier was ushered into Mazarin's presence he was in great
perturbation. Diane had not met him in the gallery as she had fairly
promised, and the young page who had played Mercury to their intrigue
stared him coolly in the face when questioned, and went about his
affairs cavalierly. What did it mean? He scarce saw Mazarin or the
serious faces of the musketeers. With no small effort he succeeded in
finding his voice.

"Monseigneur, I have the honor to report to you the success of my
mission. His Holiness directed me to give you this message." He
choked; he could utter no more.

Mazarin read wrongly these signs of agitation. He took the missive and
laid it aside. He drummed with his fingers, a sign that he was
contemplating something disagreeable.

"Monsieur, when did you arrive?" he asked.

"At six this evening, Monseigneur," answered the Chevalier
listlessly . . . He had entered Paris with joy in his heart, but now
everything seemed to be going wrong.

"Take care, Monsieur," said Mazarin, lifting a warning finger. "You
arrived yesterday, secretly."

"I? Why, Monseigneur, this is the twentieth of February, the evening
we agreed upon. I slept last night at the Pineapple in Fontainebleau.
I repeat to you, I arrived scarce two hours ago." It was now for the
first time that he noted the seriousness of the faces confronting him.

"And I repeat that you arrived last night."

"Monseigneur, that is telling me that I lie!"

"Then tell the truth." Mazarin did not particularly relish the
Chevalier's haughtiness. "You were in Paris last night."

"Monseigneur, I am a gentleman. While I lack many virtues, I do not
lack courage and truthfulness. When I say that I