the question had operated a favourable change for him in the minds of all who heard him. Moreover, chance had served him well in his choice: the count du Lude came up to his horse, and saluting him, said:

"Dismount, sir, and I will give you some useful information regarding him."

After having spoken awhile in whispers, the two gentlemen separated with all the ceremonious politeness of the period. Cinq-Mars remounted his grey horse, and passing through numerous narrow streets, was soon out of the crowd with his retinue.

"How happy I am!" he soliloquized, as he proceeded on his way; "I shall, at all events, for a moment, see the good and kind minister who brought me up; even now I seem to have before me his features, his calm air, his voice so full of benevolence."

As these thoughts ran through his mind, he found himself in the small and very dark street which had been indicated to him; it was so narrow that the knee pieces of his boots touched the wall on either side. At the end of the street he came to a wooden house of a single story, and in his eagerness, knocked with repeated strokes.

"Who is there?" cried a furious voice within; and at the same moment, the door opening exhibited a little man, very short, very stout, and with a very red face, attired in a black suit, with an immense white ruff and riding boots which engulfed his short legs in their vast depths. In his hands were a pair of horse pistols.

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"I will sell my life dearly!" he cried; "and"Softly, abbé, softly," said his pupil, taking his arm; we are friends."

"Ah! my son, is it you?" said the worthy man, letting fall his pistols, which were picked up by a domestic, also armed to the teeth. "What do you here? The abomination has entered the town, and I only await the night to depart hence. Make haste in, my dear boy, with your people; I took you for the archers of Laubardemont, and, i'faith, I was going to take a part somewhat out of my line. You see the horses in the court yard there; they will convey me to Italy, where I shall rejoin our friend, the duke de Bouillon. Jean! Jean! hasten and close the

D

great gate after these brave domestics, and recommend them not to make too much noise, although for that matter we have no habitation near us.'

Grandchamp obeyed the intrepid little abbé, who then embraced Cinq-Mars four consecutive times, raising himself on the points of his boots, so as to attain the middle of his pupil's breast. He then hurried him into a small room, which looked like a deserted granary; and seating him beside himself upon a black leather trunk, he said with earnestness:

"Well, my son, whither go you? How came madame la maréchale to let you come here? See you not what they are doing against an unhappy man, whose death alone will content them? Alas! merciful Heaven! was this the first spectacle my dear pupil was to have before him? and you at that delightful period of life, when friendship, love, confidence, should alone encompass you, when all around you should be of a nature to give you a favourable opinion of your species, at your very entry into the great world! How unfortunate! alas, why are you come?"

When the good abbé had followed up this lamentation by affectionately pressing both hands of the young traveller in his own, so red and wrinkled, the latter at length answered:

"Can you not guess, my dear abbé, that I came to Loudun because you were here? As to the spectacle you speak of, it appears to me simply ridiculous; and I vow to you that I do not a whit the less on its account love that human race, of which your virtues and your good lessons have given me an excellent idea; as to the five or six mad women who

"Let us not lose time; I will tell you all about that matter; but answer me, whither go you, and for what?" "I am going to Perpignan, where the cardinal-duke is to present me to the king."

At this the worthy but hasty abbé rose from his box, and walked, or rather ran up and down the room, stamping: "The cardinal! the cardinal!" he repeated, almost choking, his face becoming scarlet, and the tears rising to his eyes; "Poor child! they will destroy him! Ah, mon

Dieu! what part would they have him play there! what would they with him? Ah, who will protect thee, my son, in that dangerous place?" continued he, reseating himself, and again taking his pupil's hands in his own with a paternal solicitude, as he endeavoured to read his thoughts in his countenance.

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Why, I do not exactly know," said Cinq-Mars, looking up at the ceiling; "but I suppose it will be the cardinal de Richelieu, who was the friend of my father."

"Ah! my dear Henri, you make me tremble; he will Alas, why cannot I go with you! Why must I act the young man of twenty in this unfortunate affair! Alas, I should be perilous to you; I must, on the contrary, conceal myself. But you will have M. de Thou near you, my son, will you not?" said he, trying to reassure himself; "he was your friend in childhood, though somewhat older than yourself. Heed his counsels, my child, he is a wise young man; he is a man of mature reflection, and of solid ideas."

ruin you, unless you become his docile instrument.

"Oh yes, my dear abbé, you may depend upon my tender attachment for him; I have never ceased to love him."

"But you have ceased to write to him, have you not?" asked the good abbê, half smilingly.

"I beg your pardon, my dear abbé, I wrote to him once, and again yesterday, to inform him that the cardinal has invited me to court."

"How! has he himself desired your presence?"

Cinq-Mars hereupon showed the letter of the cardinal. duke to his mother, and his old tutor grew gradually more tranquil.

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Come, come," said he to himself, "this is not so bad, perhaps, after all; it looks promising; a captain of the guards at twenty-that sounds well!" and the worthy abbé's face actually became all smiles.

The young man, delighted to see these smiles which so harmonised with his own thoughts, fell upon the neck of the abbé, and embraced him, as though he had thus assured to him a futurity of pleasure, glory, and love.

But the good abbé, with difficulty disengaging himself

from this warm embrace, resumed his walk, and his reflections, and his gravity. He often hemmed, and shook his head, and Cinq-Mars, not venturing to pursue the conversation, followed him with his eyes, and became sad as he saw him become serious.

The old man at last sat down, and in a mournful tone addressed his pupil thus:

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My friend, my son, I have for a moment yielded like a father to your hopes; but I must tell you, and it is not to afflict you, that they appear to me excessive and unnatural. If the cardinal's sole aim were to show attachment and gratitude towards your family, he would not have carried his favours so far; no, the extreme probability is, that he has designs upon you. From what has been told him, he thinks you adapted to play some part as yet impossible for us to divine, but which he himself has traced out in the deepest recesses of his mind. He would educate you up for this, he would drill you into it-allow me the expression in consideration of its accuracy, and think seriously of it when the time shall come. But still, I am inclined to believe that as matters are, you had better follow up this vein in the great mine of state; it is thus that high fortunes have begun; you must only take heed not to be blinded and led at will. Let not favours make you giddy, my poor child, and let not elevation turn your head: be not so indignant at the suggestion; the thing has happened to older men than yourself. Write to me often, as well as to your mother; see M. de Thou, and we will together try to keep you in good counsel. Now, my son, be good enough to close that window through which the wind comes upon my head, and I will tell you what has been going on here."

Henri, trusting that the moral part of the discourse was over, and anticipating nothing in the second part but a narrative, more or less interesting, closed the old casement, festooned with cobwebs, and resumed his seat without speaking.

"Now that I reflect further," continued the abbé, "I think it will not perhaps be unprofitable for you to have passed through this place, although it be a sad experience you shall have acquired; but it will supply what I may

not have formerly told you of the wickedness of men; I hope, moreover, that the result will not be fatal; and that the letter we have written to the king will arrive in time."

"I heard that it had been intercepted," interposed CinqMars.

"Then all is over," said the abbé Quillet, "the curé is lost. But listen. God forbid, my son, that I, your old tutor, should seek to assail my own work, and attempt to weaken your faith. Preserve ever and everywhere that simple creed of which your noble family has given you the example, which our fathers possessed in a still higher degree than we, and of which the greatest captains of our time are not ashamed. Always, while you wear a sword, remember that you hold it for the service of God. But, at the same time, when you are among men, avoid to be deceived by the hypocrite; he will encompass you, my son; he will assail you on the vulnerable side of your ingenuous heart, in addressing your religion; and, seeing the extravagancy of his affected zeal, you will fancy yourself lukewarm as compared with him; you will think that your conscience cries out against you; but it will not be the voice of conscience that you hear. And what cries would not that conscience send forth; how fiercely would it not rise upon you, did you contribute to the destruction of innocence by invoking Heaven itself, as a false witness against it?"

Oh, my father! can such things be possible?" exclaimed Henri d'Effiat, clasping his hands.

you saw

"It is but too true," continued the abbé; “ the execution of it, in part, this morning. God grant you may not witness still greater horrors! But, listen; whatever you may see here, whatever crime they dare to commit, I conjure you, in the name of your mother and of all that you hold dear, utter not a word; make not a gesture, that may indicate any opinion whatever upon the affair. I know the impetuous character that you derive from the maréchal your father; curb it, or you are lost; these little ebullitions of passion procure but slight satisfaction, and bring about great misfortunes. I have observed you give way to them too much; oh! did you but know the advan