“Heritage enough for any gentleman of spirit,” cried the duke, heartily. “In truth, M. de Brancas, I think we shall be friends.”
“My heritage is at your service, monsieur,” I said. “I could ask no better employment for it.”
“’Tis done,” and Richelieu laughed gayly. “Here, strike hands upon it. Henceforth M. de Brancas is the friend of Richelieu. He will use his heritage in Richelieu’s service. And in return Richelieu will see that M. de Brancas has many chances to use this heritage and to make good returns upon it. Is it agreed?”
“With all my heart!” I cried, and we paused to clasp hands, to the infinite astonishment of the passers-by.
We had traversed a number of streets as we had talked, whose names I did not know, but I saw that we were entering a better quarter of the town. A moment later, we came out in front of a long row of stately buildings which I knew to be the Tuileries. At one of the pavilions, which seemed more brilliantly lighted than the others, the duke entered, and, as I hesitated, bade me enter with him.
“There is no need to postpone your appearance upon the future scene of your adventures,” he said, as we crossed the wide vestibule, the lackeys on either side bowing before him. “Besides, we will tarry but a moment. We are both somewhat travel-stained, ’tis true, but that will count rather in our favor than against us, for men of action have come into fashion with the need for them, and one good swordsman is valued more highly than a dozen poets.”
My eyes caught the sumptuous details of the place as we ascended the broad staircase, where many people were hurrying up and down, all apparently upon some business. But none of them was too hurried to bow to my companion as to a person of importance and to glance curiously at me.
“And what is this place we are about to enter?” I asked, as we paused at the stair-head.
“It is the salon of Madame du Maine,” said Richelieu, and in another moment we had entered the brilliant room.