er of
himself, he answered without hesitation:

"Yes, Sire; and I was about to declare it to you, for I am accustomed to
open my soul to you."

"Declare it to me!" exclaimed the King, turning red and white, as under
the shivering of a fever; "and you dare to contaminate my ears with
these horrible avowals, Monsieur, and to speak so calmly of your
disorder! Go! you deserve to be condemned to the galley, like Rondin;
it is a crime of high treason you have committed in your want of faith
toward me. I had rather you were a coiner, like the Marquis de Coucy,
or at the head of the Croquants, than do as you have done; you dishonor
your family, and the memory of the marechal your father."

Cinq-Mars, deeming himself wholly lost, put the best face he could upon
the matter, and said with an air of resignation:

"Well, then, Sire, send me to be judged and put to death; but spare me
your reproaches."

"Do you insult me, you petty country-squire?" answered Louis. "I know
very well that you have not incurred the penalty of death in the eyes
of men; but it is at the tribunal of God, Monsieur, that you will be
judged."

"Heavens, Sire!" replied the impetuous young man, whom the insulting
phrase of the King had offended, "why do you not allow me to return
to the province you so much despise, as I have sought to do a hundred
times? I will go there. I can not support the life I lead with you; an
angel could not bear it. Once more, let me be judged if I am guilty,
or allow me to return to Touraine. It is you who have ruined me in
attaching me to your person. If you have caused me to conceive lofty
hopes, which you afterward overthrew, is that my fault? Wherefore have
you made me grand ecuyer, if I was not to rise higher? In a word, am I
your friend or not? and, if I am, why may I not be duke, peer, or even
constable, as well as Monsieur de Luynes, whom you loved so much because
he trained falcons for you? Why am I not admitted to the council? I
could speak as well as any of the old ruffs there; I have new ideas,
and a better arm to serve you. It is your Cardinal who has prevented you
from summoning me there. And it is because he keeps you from me that I
detest him," continued Cinq-Mars, clinching his fist, as if Richelieu
stood before him; "yes, I would kill him with my own hand, if need
were."

D'Effiat's eyes were inflamed with anger; he stamped his foot as he
spoke, and turned his back to the King, like a sulky child, leaning