o them by honor, and engaged to an
inviolable secrecy. Since that time he had seen Monsieur, the Duc de
Bouillon, and Fontrailles; they had become accustomed to speak before
him without constraint, and he to hear them.

The dangers which threatened his friend now drew him into their vortex
like an invincible magnet. His conscience accused him; but he followed
Cinq-Mars wherever he went without even, from excess of delicacy,
hazarding a single expression which might resemble a personal fear. He
had tacitly given up his life, and would have deemed it unworthy of both
to manifest a desire to regain it.

The master of the horse was in his cuirass; he was armed, and wore large
boots. An enormous pistol, with a lighted match, was placed upon his
table between two flambeaux. A heavy watch in a brass case lay near the
pistol. De Thou, wrapped in a black cloak, sat motionless with folded
arms. Cinq-Mars paced backward and forward, his arms crossed behind his
back, from time to time looking at the hand of the watch, too sluggish
in his eyes. He opened the tent, looked up to the heavens, and returned.

"I do not see my star there," said he; "but no matter. She is here in my
heart."

"The night is dark," said De Thou.

"Say rather that the time draws nigh. It advances, my friend; it
advances. Twenty minutes more, and all will be accomplished. The army
only waits the report of this pistol to begin."

De Thou held in his hand an ivory crucifix, and looking first at the
cross, and then toward heaven, "Now," said he, "is the hour to complete
the sacrifice. I repent not; but oh, how bitter is the cup of sin to my
lips! I had vowed my days to innocence and to the works of the soul, and
here I am about to commit a crime, and to draw the sword."

But forcibly seizing the hand of Cinq-Mars, "It is for you, for you!" he
added with the enthusiasm of a blindly devoted heart. "I rejoice in my
errors if they turn to your glory. I see but your happiness in my fault.
Forgive me if I have returned for a moment to the habitual thought of my
whole life."

Cinq-Mars looked steadfastly at him; and a tear stole slowly down his
cheek.

"Virtuous friend," said he, "may your fault fall only on my head! But
let us hope that God, who pardons those who love, will be for us; for we
are criminal--I through love, you through friendship."

Then suddenly looking at the watch, he took the long pistol in his hand,
and gazed at the smoking match with a fi