“Come, come, Cinq Mars!” exclaimed Fontrailles, “for grace, leave the land of romance—remember I have a long story to tell, and not much time to tell it in. Truce with imagination therefore, for we have more serious work before us.”
“It’s truth—it’s truth, thou unbelieving Jew,” cried Cinq Mars. “No romance, I can assure you. Well, soon as this white horseman saw two others wending their way towards him, he suddenly reined in his beast, and turning round, galloped off as hard as he could go. Now, if curiosity be a failing, it is one I possess in an eminent degree; so, clapping spurs to my horse, after him I went, full faster than he ran away. As for De Thou, he calls out after me, loud enough to drown the thunder, crying, ‘Cinq Mars, where are you going? In God’s name stop—We know the place is full of banditti—If these are robbers, they may murder you,’—and so on; but finding that I did not much heed, he also was smitten with a galloping fit, and so we followed each other, like a procession, though with no procession pace: the white horseman first—I next—and De Thou last—with about a hundred yards between each of us—going all at full speed, to the great peril of our necks, and no small danger of our heads from the boughs. I was best mounted however, on my stout black horse Sloeberry—you know Sloeberry;—and so distancing De Thou all to nothing, I began to come closer to my white horseman, who, finding that he could not get off, gradually pulled in, and let me come up with him. ‘Well, Sir,’ said he directly, with all possible coolness—‘you have ridden hard to-night.’—‘In truth, I have, my man,’ answered I, ‘and so have you, and I should much like to know why you did so.’—‘For the same reason that you did, I suppose,’ replied the boy, for such it was who spoke.—‘And what reason is that?’ I asked.—‘Because we both liked it, I suppose,’ replied he.—‘That may be,’ answered I; ‘but we have all a reason for our likings.’—‘True, Sir,’ said the boy, ‘and I dare say your’s was a good one; pray, believe that mine was so also,’—All the time he spoke, he kept looking round at me, till at last he got a good sight of my face. ‘Are not you Monsieur de Cinq Mars?’ cried he at length.—‘And if I am, what follows then?’—‘Why it follows that you are the person I want,’ said the boy.—‘And what want you with me?’—‘Who is that?’ demanded he, pointing to De Thou, who now came up. I soon satisfied him on that score, and he went on. ‘My name is Henry de La Mothe, and I am Page to your good friend, the Count de Blenau, whom I have seen arrested and carried to the Bastille.’
“Now, you know, Fontrailles, how dear I hold De Blenau; so you may guess how pleasantly this rang upon my ear. My first question to the Page was, whether my friend had sent him to me. ‘No, no, Seigneur,’ answered the boy; ‘but as I knew you loved my master, and the King loved you, I thought it best to let you know, in case you might wish to serve him. He was taken as he was about to go with the Queen to Chantilly, and they would not let me or any other go with him, to serve him in prison. So I cast about in my mind, how I could serve him out of it, and consequently came off to seek you.’—‘But how did you know where to find me?’ demanded I, not a little fearing that our movements were watched; but the boy relieved me from that by answering, ‘Why, Sir, there was a messenger came over from Chantilly to desire the Queen’s presence; and amongst all the questions I asked him, there was one which made him tell me that you had gone to Troyes upon some business of inheritance, and as I heard that the path through this wood would save me a league, I took it, hoping to reach the town to-night.’
“Well, all the Page’s news vexed me not a little, and I thought of a thousand things to relieve De Blenau ere I could fix on any. But it happened, as it often does in this world, that chance directed me when reasoning failed. Having made the best of my way, I arrived with De Thou and the boy at Chantilly, at the hour of nine the next night, and passing towards my own apartments in the Palace, I saw the King’s cabinet open, and on inquiry, found that he had not yet retired to rest. My resolution was instantly taken; and without waiting even to dust my boots, I went just as I was, to pay my duty to his Majesty. My short absence had done me no harm with Louis, who received me with more grace than ever; so while the newness was on, I dashed at the subject next my heart at once. Like a well-bred falcon, I soared my full pitch, hovered an instant in my pride of place, and then stooped at once with irresistible force. In short, Fontrailles, for the first time I believe in my life, I boasted. I told Louis how I loved him; I counted over the services I had done him. His noble heart—you may smile, Sir, but he has a noble heart—was touched; I saw it, and gave him a moment to think over all old passages of affection between us, and to combine them with the feelings of the moment, and then I told him that my friend—my bosom friend—was suffering from the tyranny of the Cardinal, and demanded his favour for De Blenau. ‘What can I do, Cinq Mars?’ demanded he, ‘you know I must follow the advice of my ministers and counsellors.’
“It was an opportunity not to be lost,” exclaimed Fontrailles, eagerly; “I hope you seized it.”—“I did,” replied Cinq Mars. “I plied him hard on every point that could shake the influence of Richelieu. I showed him the shameful bondage he suffered. I told him, that if he allowed the sovereign power, placed by God in his hands, to be abused by another, he was as guilty as if he misused it himself; and then I said—‘I plead alone for the innocent, Sire. Hear De Blenau yourself, and if you find him guilty, bring him to the block at once. But if he have done nothing worthy of death, I will trust that your Majesty’s justice will instantly set him free.’ Well, the King not only promised that he would go to Paris and examine De Blenau himself, but he added—‘And I will be firm, Cinq Mars; I know the power is in my own hands, and I will exert it to save your friend, if he be not criminal.’
“This was all fair, Fontrailles; I could desire no more; but Louis even out did my expectation. Something had already irritated him against the Cardinal—I think it was the banishment of Clara de Hauteford. However, he went to the Bastille with Richelieu, Chavigni, and others of the council. Of course I was not admitted; but I heard all that passed from one who was present. De Blenau bore him nobly and bravely, and downright refused to answer any questions about the Queen, without her Majesty’s own commands. Well; Richelieu, according to custom, was for giving him the torture instantly. But the King had many good reasons for not suffering that to be done. Besides wishing to pleasure me, and being naturally averse to cruelty, he had a lingering inclination to cross Richelieu, and De Blenau’s firmness set him a good example: so the Cardinal was overruled; and the Queen’s commands to De Blenau to confess all being easily procured, he owned that he had forwarded letters from her Majesty to her brother the King of Spain. Now, you see, Richelieu was angry, and irritated at being thwarted; and he did the most foolish thing that man ever did; for though he saw that Louis was roused, and just in the humour to cross him, he got up, and not considering the King’s presence, at once pronounced a sentence of exile against De Blenau, as if the sovereign power had been entirely his own, without consulting Louis, or asking his approbation at all. Though, God knows, the King cares little enough about using his power, of course he does not like to be treated as a mere cipher before his own Council; and accordingly he revoked the Cardinal’s sentence without hesitation, sending De Blenau, merely for form’s sake, into Bourbon, and then rising, he broke up the Council, treating Richelieu with as scanty consideration as he had shown himself. By Heaven! Fontrailles, when I heard it, I could have played the fool for joy. Richelieu was deeply touched, you may suppose; and what with his former ill health and this new blow, he has never been himself since; but I knew not that he was so far gone as you describe.”
“It is so reported in Paris,” replied Fontrailles, “and he has become so humble that no one would know him. But mark me, Cinq Mars. The Cardinal is now upon the brink of a precipice, and we must urge him quickly down; for if he once again gain the ascendency, we are not only lost for ever, but his power will be far greater than it was before.”
“He will never rise more in this world,” answered Cinq Mars. “His day, I trust, is gone by: his health is broken; and the King, who always hated him, now begins to fear him no longer. I will do my best to strengthen Louis’s resolution, and get him into a way of thinking for himself. And now, Fontrailles, for the news from Spain.”
“Why, my story might be made longer than yours, if I were to go through all that happened to me on the road. It was a long and barren journey, and I believe I should have been almost starved before I reached Madrid, if I had not half filled my bags with biscuits. However, I arrived at length, and not without some difficulty found a place to lodge, for these cold Spaniards are as fearful of admitting a stranger to their house, as if he were a man-tiger. My next step was to send for a tailor, and to hire me a lacquais or two, one of whom I sent instantly to Madame de Chevreuse, praying an audience of her, which was granted immediately.”
“Why thou wert not mad enough to make a confidante of Madame de Chevreuse?” exclaimed Cinq Mars; “why, it is carrying water in a sieve. A thousand to one, she makes her peace with Richelieu, by telling him the whole story.”