The servant was soon called, and De Tronson bade him go to the apartment of his Eminence. "Seek out one of his secretaries," he said, "and, if you cannot find one, ask for his chaplain. Request him to present my duty to the cardinal and tell him that Monsieur de Langdale, the young English gentleman he knows of, is with me, waiting his Eminence's pleasure. Say I would have come myself, but I am ill of fever."
The man retired and was absent only a few minutes ere he returned with the simple words, "His Eminence cannot be interrupted to-day." Edward heard the reply with regret; for time was passing away, his journey was just beginning when those who sent him imagined it was ended, and his funds were diminishing every hour. But, even while taking leave of Monsieur de Tronson and expressing a sincere hope that he would soon be better, a servant in purple livery entered, and, bowing to Monsieur de Tronson, announced that his Eminence would see Monsieur de Langdale.
"Go, go! quickly!" said De Tronson, in a low voice; "but be careful." And Edward followed the attendant from the room.
"Now for my fate," thought the young man, as he crossed the little bridge over the moat. "Such scenes as that of yesterday harden rather than soften. Methinks I could meet death more easily now than I could have done four-and-twenty hours ago. Yet why should I think the cardinal wishes me ill? He has been kind to me, however cruel he may be to others. But why should I call him cruel? I know nothing of that young count's guilt or innocence; and the horrid accessories of his fate were certainly none of the minister's devising."
Thus thinking, he followed through the long passages of the castle till he came to a door where stood one of the cardinal's guard, and there the servant paused and knocked. A page opened it, and to his guidance Edward was consigned. He was then led through an ante-room, and then through the room where he had seen Richelieu before, to another smaller chamber, where he once more found himself in the presence of the man whose life and power were so often in the balance, but whose will in reality, from that time forward, was fate in France.
Richelieu, though habited in clerical garb, was in what may be called half-dress, and the robe de chambre which he wore above his cassock was of bright colors and a mere mundane form. His pointed beard, or royal, as it was then called, with the dark mustache and the rich lace collar, which might have suited any gay cavalier of the court, also had a very lay appearance; and at once it flashed across the mind of the young Englishman that he had seen him somewhere in another costume. Where, for an instant he could not recollect; but he had not half traversed the room before the magic power of association brought back a night not more than a week before, when, walking in one of the corridors of that very chateau, he had met a man descending to the dungeons in which the unhappy Chalais was confined; and that man was before him. He shuddered when his mind instinctively combined the visit of that night with the scene of the day before; but in the look and manner of the cardinal at that moment there was nothing to inspire awe or indicate any cruelty or even harshness of character. His face was grave,—very grave; but with a mild gravity much like that of the famous bust which is, perhaps, the only good likeness of that extraordinary man. In his hand was a book,—the famous Imitation of Christ; but he had let it drop upon his knee when the door opened; and one who did not know him would have said, to see him, "There is some calm student of theology a little disturbed by being interrupted."
"Come in, young gentleman, and take a seat," said Richelieu, as the page closed the door. "You have kept your word well with me, I find."
"I always try to do so, my lord cardinal," replied Edward, seating himself near the minister.
"Lord cardinal!" said Richelieu, with a faint smile: "that is English, and somewhat Roman too. But what matters it? You heretics from the other side of the sea sometimes give us a lesson about dignities. Eminence! Any man can reach that title of right in other paths besides the Church, if he be wise, and brave, and firm,—ay, firm: he must be firm! Many a man who might be great, by some small weakness in his own nature yielded to, even once too often, mars all the results of higher qualities. Well, you have returned, as you promised; but you have come at a time when we are all sad,—very sad. I thought I would not see any one this morning, but take counsel with the only happy ones,—the dead. However, on second thoughts, I resolved to admit you, as you had performed your part of our bargain well, and your last conversation pleased me."
He spoke in a sort of meditative tone, and, when he stopped, Edward had nothing to reply but, "Your Eminence is gracious."