few night-birds who were slinking off to their own
quarters. The Rue des Catonnes was in darkness, but I knew the way,
and, mounting the stairs quickly, reached my room.

"The Cardinal must not be kept waiting," I muttered, "but there is time
for a short nap," and I got into bed.

A few minutes before seven o'clock I crossed the courtyard of the
Palais Royal, ascended the grand staircase, stopped a moment as usual
to joke with the Guards; and, traversing the corridor, reached
Mazarin's room just as his secretary came out.

"Go straight in, M. de Lalande. His Eminence expects you at seven, and
the clock has given warning."

The last stroke had not sounded as I entered the room.

The Cardinal had been at work for hours. He sat at a table covered
with documents, and, still perusing one of them, exclaimed in his
silky, purring voice, "You are punctual, M. de Lalande!"

"Yes, my lord."

"I feared," said he slowly, and rustling the paper, "that last night's
festivities might have fatigued you."

He turned and looked at me so as to enjoy my surprise, but, managing
with an effort to preserve my composure, I remarked that I left the
Luxembourg early.

"Very sensible," he murmured. "And may I ask how you found your
charming friend, Madame de Chevreuse?"

"Madame de Chevreuse is no friend of mine," I stammered awkwardly. "I
met her for the first time last night, when she mistook me for my
cousin."

"That likeness must be very embarrassing. It would be unfortunate if
the public executioner should make a similar mistake! But let us not
dwell on these things; tell me about the latest plot of Madame
Coutance."

I ignored the first part of this speech, though it sounded odd, and
laughed at the last, but Mazarin checked me.

"You do not take Madame Coutance seriously?" said he. "You are wrong,
she is a very troublesome woman. She is like a child playing with
tinder, and may make a blaze at any moment without knowing it. The
safety of the State demands that such persons should be deprived of the
power to work mischief."

"She did not tell me her plans," I said. "She was aware that I had the
honour of serving you."

"Well, these matters are of trifling interest," he replied briskly,
"since one has enemies no longer. Really your post is a sinecure. I
have no more important business for you than to carry this letter to
our old acquaintance, Martin, the astrologer, and to bring back an
answer. Perhaps it w