“My children!” exclaimed Louis, raising his head, “dare you?”
“Would you rather that I should retire?” said Richelieu.
The King again signed.
“Is all finished now?” he inquired, with a deep sigh.
All was not finished; one other grief was still in reserve for him. The door was suddenly opened, and Cinq-Mars entered. It was the Cardinal who trembled now.
“What would you here, sir?” said he, seizing the bell to ring for assistance.
The master of the horse was as pale as the King, and without condescending to answer Richelieu, he advanced steadily toward Louis XIII, who looked at him with the air of a man who has just received a sentence of death.
“You would, Sire, find it difficult to have me arrested, for I have twenty thousand men under my command,” said Henri d’Effiat, in a sweet and subdued voice.
“Alas, Cinq-Mars!” replied the King, sadly; “is it thou who hast been guilty of these crimes?”
“Yes, Sire; and I also bring you my sword, for no doubt you came here to surrender me,” said he, unbuckling his sword, and laying it at the feet of the King, who fixed his eyes upon the floor without making any reply.