ans go. You are one
of us. I am somewhat late; but our beautiful Aspasia will pardon me. Why
are you going? Is it all over?"

"Why, it seems so. When the dancing begins, the reading is done."

"The reading, yes; but the oaths?" said the Abbe, in a low voice.

"What oaths?" asked De Thou.

"Is not Monsieur le Grand come?"

"I expected to see him; but I suppose he has not come, or else he has
gone."

"No, no! come with me," said the bare-brained Abbe. "You are one of us.
Parbleu! it is impossible to do without you; come!"

De Thou, unwilling to refuse, and thus appear to disown his friends,
even for parties of pleasure which annoyed him, followed De Gondi, who
passed through two cabinets, and descended a small private staircase. At
each step he took, he heard more distinctly the voices of an assemblage
of men. Gondi opened the door. An unexpected spectacle met his view.

The chamber he was entering, lighted by a mysterious glimmer, seemed the
asylum of the most voluptuous rendezvous. On one side was a gilt bed,
with a canopy of tapestry ornamented with feathers, and covered with
lace and ornaments. The furniture, shining with gold, was of grayish
silk, richly embroidered. Velvet cushions were at the foot of each
armchair, upon a thick carpet. Small mirrors, connected with one another
by ornaments of silver, seemed an entire glass, itself a perfection then
unknown, and everywhere multiplied their glittering faces. No sound
from without could penetrate this throne of delight; but the persons
assembled there seemed far remote from the thoughts which it was
calculated to give rise to. A number of men, whom he recognized as
courtiers, or soldiers of rank, crowded the entrance of this chamber and
an adjoining apartment of larger dimensions. All were intent upon that
which was passing in the centre of the first room. Here, ten young men,
standing, and holding in their hands their drawn swords, the points of
which were lowered toward the ground, were ranged round a table. Their
faces, turned to Cinq-Mars, announced that they had just taken an oath
to him. The grand ecuyer stood by himself before the fireplace, his
arms folded with an air of all-absorbing reflection. Standing near him,
Marion de Lorme, grave and collected, seemed to have presented these
gentlemen to him.

When Cinq-Mars perceived his friend, he rushed toward the door, casting
a terrible glance at Gondi, and seizing De Thou by both arms, stopped
him on t