As the Prince stepped in, Vaux, who was still there, came forward with hanging head and tears in his eyes; but Condé, who took no notice of his captors, embraced him, saying, kindly:
“Come, Vaux! ’Tis the fortune of war,” and than he looked at the card table where Vaux had rebuilt his house of cards. He touched it with his fingers, and as it crumbled on the table, he laughed as he turned to De Bresy.
“Dreams of our youth—eh, de Bresy?” And then with a perfect coolness he went on, taking a seat at the table: “The long ride has tired me, and I need a rest. Come, de Bresy! Play me a rubber.”
“I am at your Highness’ commands,” and de Bresy, taking a place opposite to the Prince, rapidly shuffled the cards. They were cut to him, and he dealt out two hands amid a wondering silence. Vaux had slunk to the window, and the Prince completely ignored the presence of Achon and Richelieu. As for Comminges, he was at the door near me, and I heard him mutter under his breath:
“Ay! He is brave.”
“The old stakes?” The Prince was laughing as he spoke.
“Your Highness.”
“You lose, de Bresy. I would put my life on this hand.”
“Monseigneur!” It was Achon’s harsh voice that broke in upon them, and Condé looked up, a cold inquiry in his eyes.
“Monseigneur!” the bishop went on, “I have that to tell you which admits of no delay——” He stopped, the unspoken words still on his lips, for the deep boom of a heavy gun fell upon our ears, and from outside there was a shouting from ten thousand throats: