"A bagatelle!" declared Humphreys, "a mere trifle! He has been moping, and has got queer fancies into his head; sick people often do. Think no more of it, that is my advice; in a week he will be laughing at his dreams. The jingle of spurs and the blare of trumpets will soon drive away those notions."

"I am not so certain of that, my friend. Besides, he is not suffering from his wound now; he has recovered his strength."

"Of body, I grant you; and when his mind becomes clearer, these whimseys will vanish like ghosts at cock-crow."

The Englishman seemed so sure, and spoke so confidently, that while in his company I felt half inclined to smile at my childish ideas; but later, in the solitude of my own room, they did not appear so childish. The notion that Raoul was in some danger had disturbed my brain, and several times during the night I awoke with a start, fancying I heard him call my name.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

"Remember the Porte St. Antoine."

It was, perhaps, fortunate that about this time Mazarin kept me very busy. Events moved quickly; the situation changed every day; no one knew at one hour what would happen the next. The Cardinal remained with the Court, but I spent most of my time on horseback, galloping with hastily written letters from one leader to another.

One day I was sent to Villeneuve St. Georges, where Turenne, having made a daring march, had just arrived. The Marshal was in a position of extreme danger. Lorraine was in front of him with a large army; Condé's troops were approaching swiftly from Etampes. There was an even greater peril, of which, however, I had no idea, till the famous soldier had read Mazarin's note.

"Here is news," said he, speaking to an officer of high rank; "Condé has left Paris and has joined his troops. We must settle this affair soon, or the prince will be too quick for us."