“The other boy grew red also at that and put back his purse.
“‘At least tell me your name,’ he asked. ‘I shall never forget your name.’
“And the boy on horseback smiled again.
“‘My name is Jean de Brancas,’ he said, and the other boy could see that he was proud of the name. And just then his tutor came and separated them, but as the coach drove away he leaned far out of the window and waved his hand to the other boy.
“‘Good-by, Jean!’ he cried. ‘We shall meet again some day, and then it will be my turn.’”
Richelieu paused for a moment, and I felt that my eyes were wet.
“So you see,” he continued, “I had reason to be pleased this evening when I heard that it was Jean de Brancas to whom I had been of service, and whom I intend to keep by my side. For I was the boy in the coach, and I remember that ride through the river as though it had happened yesterday.”
“And I also remember it, M. le Duc,” I said, “and the boy who sprang from the coach and who thanked me so prettily has been my beau ideal from then until this day. I questioned many people, but no one knew him. I have dreamed of him many times, and in my dreams it was always I who was at his right hand, aiding him to win a thousand battles, even as you aided me to-night.”
“And that is where I would have you,” cried Richelieu, “and where you shall be henceforth.”
We were both more moved than we cared to show, for the memory of that boyish exploit was sweet to both of us, and a little silence followed. It was Richelieu who broke it.