"This youth is like his cousin," replied the astrologer, "but I imagine he knows little of Paris. I should say he is more at home in the fields than in the streets."
"It seems he knows enough to be mixed up in a daring plot," said Mazarin with a grim smile. "But, after all, my enemies do not rate my powers highly when they send a boy like this against me. I believed I was of more importance."
"No one sent me," I replied; "on the contrary, I came to warn you, but I need have had no fear for you, I find."
The Cardinal sighed. "The wolves do not always get into the sheep-fold," he murmured gently, at which, remembering the body of armed men below, I felt amused.
He was about to speak again, when, after tapping at the door, an officer entered the room. His clothes were torn and soiled, there was a smear of blood on the sleeve of his coat, and he glanced at his master sheepishly.
"Alone!" exclaimed the latter in astonishment, upon which the soldier approached him and began to speak in whispers. Mazarin was evidently displeased, but he listened courteously to the end.
"What bad luck!" he cried. "I thought they were all nicely trapped. However, no doubt you did your best. Now go and let a surgeon attend to your hurts. I see you have been wounded."
"A mere scratch, your Eminence," replied the officer saluting, and, when he had withdrawn, the Cardinal again turned his attention to me.
"Yes," said he, as if in answer to a question, "your companions have escaped: so much the better for them. But, deprived of the bell-wether, the flock counts for little. Now, as you value your life, tell me who sent you here. I warn you to speak the truth; there are deep dungeons in the Bastille."
"My story is a curious one, your Eminence, but it throws little light on the affair. My father is the head of the De Lalande family, but he is poor, and has lost his estates. The other day our friend, M. Belloc——"