THE PALAIS ROYAL, PARIS.
The morning Council of State over, Richelieu accompanied the King into his writing closet, to discuss in private some important matters.
As the Queen's coterie had predicted, Louis soon wearied of business; everything was now replaced, as before, in the hands of the minister.
Louis leant back in his chair. He scarcely heard the Cardinal's remarks.
From time to time, when specially appealed to, he bowed his head in acquiescence. Then turning away his eyes abstractedly towards the windows, which faced the inner court, he anxiously watched the driving clouds that scudded across the sky. He had fixed a hunting-party at Rambouillet, and longed to start as soon as the weather cleared, and Richelieu had left him.
The mellow voice of the Cardinal, who, however imperative in action, never startled his feeble master by any outward display of vehemence, had continued speaking for some time, in a monotonous tone, when the King, seeing the sunshine appear, suddenly rose.
"Your eminence has, I imagine, done with me for to-day," said he, looking eagerly towards the door.
"Yes, Sire; but there is still a trifling matter upon which I would ask your decision."