dry reproaches
to make himself with reference to all persons whom he addressed, and as
many resources in his mind for getting out of the difficulty, he fancied
that they had discovered the object of his visit, and felt that he
should not select a moment of ill humor for preparing the way to
friendship. Therefore, seating himself near the bed, he said, coldly:

"I come, Monsieur, to speak to you on the part of the
Cardinal-Generalissimo, of the two Spanish prisoners you have made; he
desires to have information concerning them as soon as possible. I am
to see and question them. But I did not suppose you were still awake; I
merely wished to receive them from your people."

After a forced interchange of politeness, they ordered into the tent the
two prisoners, whom Cinq-Mars had almost forgotten.

They appeared--the one, young and displaying an animated and rather wild
countenance, was the soldier; the other, concealing his form under a
brown cloak, and his gloomy features, which had something ambiguous in
their expression, under his broad-brimmed hat, which he did not remove,
was the officer. He spoke first:

"Why do you make me leave my straw and my sleep? Is it to deliver me or
hang me?"

"Neither," said Joseph.

"What have I to do with thee, man with the long beard? I did not see
thee at the breach."

It took some time after this amiable exordium to make the stranger
understand the right a Capuchin had to interrogate him.

"Well," he said, "what dost thou want?"

"I would know your name and your country."

"I shall not tell my name; and as for my country, I have the air of a
Spaniard, but perhaps am not one, for a Spaniard never acknowledges his
country."

Father Joseph, turning toward the two friends, said: "Unless I deceive
myself, I have heard his voice somewhere. This man speaks French without
an accent; but it seems he wishes to give us enigmas, as in the East."

"The East? that is it," said the prisoner. "A Spaniard is a man from the
East; he is a Catholic Turk; his blood either flags or boils; he is lazy
or indefatigable; indolence makes him a slave, ardor a tyrant; immovable
in his ignorance, ingenious in his superstition, he needs only a
religious book and a tyrannical master; he obeys the law of the pyre;
he commands by that of the poniard. At night he falls asleep in his
bloodthirsty misery, nurses fanaticism, and awakes to crime. Who is this
gentleman? Is it the Spaniard or the Turk? Guess! A