As soon as De Chavigni had retired for the purpose of seeking La Rivière, Richelieu ran his eye over some memoranda, as if about to put farther questions to De Blenau; but the King, not noticing these indications of his purpose, addressed the prisoner himself. “Well, Monsieur le Comte,” said he, “while Chavigni is gone, there are two or three points on which I shall be glad to speak with you.”
Richelieu was surprised, and not particularly delighted, thinking that the King was about to continue the examination himself, which might not be conducted precisely in such a manner as to produce the effect he wished; but, in the independent mood with which Louis was affected, he dared not, with all his daring, attempt to interrupt the course of his Sovereign’s proceedings, and therefore remained silent, watching the opportunity of interposing, to give what turn he best could to the interrogatory that appeared about to commence. In the mean while De Blenau bowed his head, calmly prepared to bear the mental torture of a long cross-examination, where every word might be subject to dangerous misconstruction.
“I understand, Monsieur de Blenau,” continued the King, while the whole Council listened with attentive expectation—“I understand that you have the best breed of boar-dogs in France. Pray are they of the Pomeranian or the Exul race?—and how can they be procured?”
Richelieu bit his lip; but to De Blenau the King’s question was like the clearing away of a threatened storm; and habitually attached to the chase, as well as deeply learned in all its mysteries, he was delighted to find that Louis turned the conversation to a subject equally familiar to both.
“Mine are the true Pomeranian breed, Sire,” he replied; “flewed an inch deep, with eyes like Sandarak—would light your Majesty home at night, if by chance you lost your way. In truth, they are only fit for a monarch; and Cinq Mars has now four couple of the best in education for your Majesty, which, when well trained, and recovered from their wildness, he will present to your Majesty in my name; and I humbly hope that you will accept them in aid of your Royal sport.”
“We shall, we shall; and thank you well, Sir Count,” replied the King, smiling most graciously at the prospect of possessing a breed which he had been long seeking for in vain. “Monsieur le Cardinal, do you hear that? We will hunt with them some day. You used to hunt in your day too; have you quite given it over?”
“I have been too much busied, Sire,” answered Richelieu gravely, “in hunting from your Majesty’s dominions Huguenot wolves and Spanish foxes, to pursue other game.”
Louis turned from him with an uneasy shrug, expressive of fully as much distaste for Richelieu’s employments as the statesman experienced for his; and once more addressing De Blenau, he plunged deep into the science of hunting, hawking, and fowling; giving the young Count a thousand receipts, instructions, and anecdotes, which he listened to with the most reverential deference, not only in as much as they proceeded from his Sovereign, but also as coming from the most experienced sportsman of the age.
In the mean while, Richelieu was fain to employ himself in writing notes and memoranda, to allay the spleen and irritation that he felt at what he internally termed the King’s weak trifling; till at length he was relieved by the return of Chavigni, bringing with him the Queen’s Usher, La Rivière.
De Blenau well knew that this person, who was by birth just within the rank of a gentleman (which word was then in France one of great significance), had been placed in the service of Anne of Austria for the purpose of acting as a spy upon her, from Richelieu’s fear of her correspondence with Spain; but informed, as the Count now was, of the Queen’s wishes, it was perfectly indifferent to him who appeared on her behalf; his only object being, that his mistress’s commands, publicly expressed, should, in the minds of all, free him from the imputation of having betrayed her.