and bright. Presently, as I stood in a corner of
the room, he began talking as if to some person. Then suddenly he
sprang up, his face was white, and his eyes stared as if they had seen
something dreadful, and he trembled all over. I called his name, and
he glanced round in a frightened way as if surprised to find himself in
a room."

"Did he make any remark?"

"He said he had been dreaming, and made me take him into the street to
clear the cobwebs from his brain. I think the same dream came again
afterwards, but he would not speak of it, though once I heard him
mutter to himself, 'It was the Porte St. Antoine!'"

"The Porte St. Antoine?" I cried, more astonished than ever; "that is
where he declared I should meet him next!"

"There are many strange things for which we cannot account, monsieur!"
exclaimed Pillot--a remark which, though true enough, gave me small
comfort.

The little man did his best to cheer me, but it was a dreary ride
notwithstanding, and he must have been glad when towards evening we
reached St. Germain. Having given Mazarin the Marshal's note, and
finding the time at my own disposal, I went to seek Humphreys.

"Well, my friend, so you have returned," exclaimed the jovial
Englishman. "You look tired and troubled. Is anything wrong?"

"I have seen Raoul."

"That should not have depressed you! So he is back with the army? I
thought he would not stay quiet long."

"It is on Raoul's account I am uneasy," I replied, and without more
ado, described the change that had come over him, and repeated his
mysterious words.

"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, fan