Henry nodded his head approvingly, and turned quickly round to issue orders at once to follow this advice, which suited the urgency of the case; all at once he remembered that Sully was not present, and he hesitated.
“Where is Sully?” cried he.
“Monsieur de Praslin,” replied Bassompierre, who had just left him, “has been again despatched to fetch him from the Arsenal; but he is not yet arrived.”
At this moment the door opened, and Sully appeared. It was evident that he was in one of his surliest moods. Henry, preoccupied as he was, observed this, and, fearing some outburst, dismissed the Council and Bassompierre, and carefully shut the door.
“Sully, what am I to do? By the mass! that monster, my nephew, has fled, and carried off my dear Charlotte with him!”
This was not, as has been seen, the first time that the grave statesman Sully had been consulted in his master’s love affairs. He had passed very many hours in endeavouring to cajole Henriette d’Entragues to give up the fatal marriage contract signed by the King; he had all but quarrelled with his master in opposing his marriage with Gabrielle d’Estrées; and he had been called up in the dead of night to remonstrate with the Queen when, in consequence of a violent quarrel, she had sworn that she would leave the Louvre. Sully, like the King, had grown old, and was tired of acting adviser to a headstrong master, whose youthful follies never seemed to end. Now he gave a grunt of disapproval.
“I am not surprised, Sire. I told you the Prince would go. If he went himself, it was not likely he would leave his wife behind him—was it? That would have been too complaisant in his highness. If you wanted to secure him, you should have shut him up in the Bastille.”
“Sully, this raillery is ill-timed. I am distressed beyond all words. The Princess is in an awful predicament. Laperrière’s son brought the news. His father was their guide. He left them in the middle of a dismal forest. He shall be paid a mine of gold for his information.”