ll add that he is gone to pay court to the future favorite.
I will replace this monk in the favor of the minister. The moment is
propitious. It is midnight; he will be alone for an hour and a half yet.
Let me run."

He arrived at the tent of the guards, which was before the pavilion.

"Monseigneur gives audience to some one," said the captain, hesitating;
"you can not enter."

"Never mind; you saw me leave an hour ago, and things are passing of
which I must give an account."

"Come in, Laubardemont," cried the minister; "come in quickly, and
alone."

He entered. The Cardinal, still seated, held the two hands of the nun
in one of his, and with the other he imposed silence upon his stupefied
agent, who remained motionless, not yet seeing the face of this woman.
She spoke volubly, and the strange things she said contrasted horribly
with the sweetness of her voice. Richelieu seemed moved.

"Yes, I will stab him with a knife. It is the knife which the demon
Behirith gave me at the inn; but it is the nail of Sisera. It has
a handle of ivory, you see; and I have wept much over it. Is it not
singular, my good General? I will turn it in the throat of him who
killed my friend, as he himself told me to do; and afterward I will burn
the body. There is like for like, the punishment which God permitted
to Adam. You have an astonished air, my brave general; but you would be
much more so, were I to repeat to you his song--the song which he
sang to me again last night, at the hour of the funeral-pyre--you
understand?--the hour when it rains, the hour when my hand burns as now.
He said to me: 'They are much deceived, the magistrates, the red judges.
I have eleven demons at my command; and I shall come to see you when the
clock strikes, under a canopy of purple velvet, with torches--torches of
resin to give us light--' Ah, that is beautiful! Listen, listen to what
he sings!"

And she sang to the air of De Profundis.

"Is it not singular, my good General?" said she, when she had finished;
"and I--I answer him every evening."

"Then he speaks as spirits and prophets speak. He says: 'Woe, woe to him
who has shed blood! Are the judges of the earth gods? No, they are men
who grow old and suffer, and yet they dare to say aloud, Let that man
die! The penalty of death, the pain of death--who has given to man
the right of imposing it on man? Is the number two? One would be an
assassin, look you! But count well, one, two, three. Behold,