I glanced at his honest face.
“Yes, he has lost in a way,” I answered. “But he has also won a great victory, my friend.”
“He had not the air of a victor, monsieur.”
“Ah, Jacques,” and I smiled rather grimly, “there are some victories which cost the victor more than the vanquished. This was one of that kind. But they are victories just the same, Jacques, though men, sometimes, do not so consider them.”
I turned to the fire and sat down before it. This, then, was the end. And was it the end, also, of my love for Louise Dacour? When should I see her? What did the future hold for us? I gazed into the depths of the glowing embers and saw again her sweet face looking up at me, her eyes on mine, and I knew that come what might that vision would never leave me. The clock chimed midnight, and as I started bedward, I heard Richelieu walking back and forth in the room overhead. And a great wave of pity for him swept over me as I thought of the battle he was fighting and the ordeal he had yet to face.
CHAPTER XXII
AT THE PALAIS ROYAL
I had scarce opened my eyes the next morning when there came a rap at the door.
“Come in!” I cried.
The door opened and Jacques entered.
“An order for you, M. de Brancas,” he said, “left here a moment ago by one of the regent’s guards,” and he handed me a folded paper.