and or the departure of her son; and, oftener still, she had
feared lest Bassompierre should compromise himself. She had touched him
many times, glancing at the same time toward M. de Launay, of whom she
knew little, and whom she had reason to believe devoted to the prime
minister; but to a man of his character, such warnings were useless.
He appeared not to notice them; but, on the contrary, crushing that
gentleman with his bold glance and the sound of his voice, he affected
to turn himself toward him, and to direct all his conversation to him.
M. de Launay assumed an air of indifference and of assenting politeness,
which he preserved until the moment when the folding-doors opened, and
"Mademoiselle la Duchesse de Mantua" was announced.

The conversation which we have transcribed so lengthily passed, in
reality, with rapidity; and the repast was only half over when the
arrival of Marie de Gonzaga caused the company to rise. She was small,
but very well made, and although her eyes and hair were black, her
complexion was as dazzling as the beauty of her skin. The Marechale
arose to acknowledge her rank, and kissed her on the forehead, in
recognition of her goodness and her charming age.

"We have waited a long time for you to-day, dear Marie," she said,
placing the Duchess beside her; "fortunately, you remain with me to
replace one of my children, who is about to depart."

The young Duchess blushed, lowered her head and her eyes, in order that
no one might see their redness, and said, timidly:

"Madame, that may well be, since you have taken toward me the place of
a mother;" and a glance thrown at Cinq-Mars, at the other end of the
table, made him turn pale.

This arrival changed the conversation; it ceased to be general, and each
guest conversed in a low voice with his neighbor. The Marechal alone
continued to utter a few sentences concerning the magnificence of the
old court, his wars in Turkey, the tournaments, and the avarice of the
new court; but, to his great regret, no one made any reply, and the
company were about to leave the table, when, as the clock struck two,
five horses appeared in the courtyard. Four were mounted by servants,
cloaked and armed; the other horse, black and spirited, was held by old
Grandchamp--it was his master's steed.

"Ah!" exclaimed Bassompierre; "see, our battlehorses are saddled and
bridled. Come, young man, we must say, with our old Marot:

'Adieu la cour, adieu les d