"What of De Retz?"

"That is the most comical part of all; he is hand in glove with the Queen, and has become Condé's bitterest enemy. At least that was the situation this morning. To-morrow perhaps will furnish a fresh move."

"One has to blush for being a Frenchman! I shall go to Marshal Turenne; he is the only honest man in the country."

"Another broken reed, my friend! If rumour speaks truly, he has made a bargain with Condé, and will support him even in open rebellion. By the way, do not wander about the city too much at night."

"Why?" I asked, looking at him in surprise.

"Because you have made two bitter enemies—Maubranne and Peleton. They have both joined De Retz, and Peleton will work you all the mischief he can. He is a dangerous man."

"A fig for Peleton! He is a coward."

"A coward can often strike a sure blow in the dark."

We were in the streets by this time, and, passing with difficulty through the crowds of people, I was strongly reminded of the evening when I accompanied the now exiled minister to the house of the astrologer.

The riff-raff of the city were out in large numbers; the hawkers were crying their literary wares; the Black Mantles had gathered in knots to guard their property; while the young bloods swaggered along, laughing and joking, but toying with their swords as if longing for a chance to use them. On the previous occasion the rabble had roared themselves hoarse with cries against Mazarin and the Queen-Mother; now they shouted with equal vigour against Condé and his friends.