the narrow passage between the waiting lines, conversed in
whispers as they walked. But even these were swift to take alarm, and
continually looked askance; while the general company stood at gaze,
starting and looking up eagerly whenever the door swung open or a
newcomer was announced. The strange silence which prevailed reminded me
of nothing so much as of the Court at Blois on the night of the Duke
of Mercoeur's desertion; but that stillness had brooded over empty
chambers, this gave a peculiar air of strangeness to a room thronged in
every part.

M. la Varenne, who was received by those about the door with silent
politeness, drew me into the recess of a window; whence I was able
to remark, among other things, that the Huguenots present almost
outnumbered the king's immediate following. Still, among those who were
walking up and down, I noticed M. de Rambouillet, to whom at another
time I should have hastened to pay my respects; with Marshal d'Aumont,
Sancy, and Humieres. Nor had I more than noted the presence of these
before the door of the chamber opened and added to their number Marshal
Biron, who came out leaning on the arm of Crillon. The sight of these
old enemies in combination was sufficient of itself to apprise me that
some serious crisis was at hand; particularly as their progress through
the crowd was watched, I observed, by a hundred curious and attentive
eyes.

They disappeared at last through the outer door, and the assemblage
turned as with one accord to see who came next. But nearly half an hour
elapsed before the Chamber door, which all watched so studiously, again
opened. This time it was to give passage to my late visitor, Turenne,
who came out smiling, and leaning, to my great surprise, on the arm of
M. de Rosny.

As the two walked down the room, greeting here and there an obsequious
friend, and followed in their progress by all eyes, I felt my heart sink
indeed; both at sight of Turenne's good-humour, and of the company in
which I found him. Aware that in proportion as he was pleased I was like
to meet with displeasure, I still might have had hope left had I had
Rosny left. Losing him, however--and I could not doubt, seeing him as I
saw him, that I had lost him--and counting the King of Navarre as gone
already, I felt such a failure of courage as I had never known before.
I told myself with shame that I was not made for Courts, or for such
scenes as these; and recalling with new and keen mort