"Give it to me," said the stranger, holding out his hand. My eye glanced over his unclerical habiliments, and I replied, "You must excuse me. This paper, and the farther news I bring, can only be given to the cardinal himself."
"It shall go safe," he answered in a stern tone. "Give it to me, young sir."
There was an authority in his tone that almost induced me to comply; but reflecting that I might be called to a severe account by the unrelenting minister, even for a mere error in judgment, I persisted in my original determination. "I must repeat," answered I, "that I can give this to no one but his eminence himself, without an express order from his own hand to do so."
"Pshaw!" cried he, with something of a smile; and taking up a pen, which lay with some sheets of paper on the table, he dipped it in the ink, and scrawled in a large, bold hand,--
"Deliver your packet to the bearer.
"Richelieu."
I made him a low bow, and placed the letter in his hands. He read it, with the quick and intelligent glance of one enabled by long habit to collect and arrange the ideas conveyed to him with that clear rapidity possessed alone by men of genius. In the meantime I watched his countenance, seeking to detect, amongst all the lines with which years and thought had channelled it, any expression of the stern, vindictive, despotic passions, which the world charged him withal, and which his own actions sufficiently evinced; it was not there, however,--all was calm.
Suddenly raising his eyes, his look fell full upon me as I was thus busily scanning his countenance; and I know not why, but my glance sunk in the collision.
"Ha!" said he, rather mildly than otherwise, "you were gazing at me very strictly, sir. Are you a reader of countenances?"
"Not in the least, monseigneur," replied I; "I was but learning a lesson:--to know a great man when I see one another time."