rt of the narrative, Cinq-Mars could not avoid forgetting his
resignation, and clasping his friend's hand, "Arrested!" he exclaimed.
"Must we renounce even the honor of having voluntarily surrendered
ourselves? Must we sacrifice all, even the opinion of posterity?"

"There is vanity again," replied De Thou, placing his fingers on his
lips. "But hush! let us hear the Abbe to the end."

The tutor, not doubting that the calmness which these two young men
exhibited arose from the joy they felt in finding their escape assured,
and seeing that the sun had hardly yet dispersed the morning mists,
yielded himself without restraint to the involuntary pleasure which old
men always feel in recounting new events, even though they afflict the
hearers. He related all his fruitless endeavors to discover his pupil's
retreat, unknown to the court and the town, where none, indeed, dared to
pronounce the name of Cinq-Mars in the most secret asylums. He had only
heard of the imprisonment at Pierre-Encise from the Queen herself, who
had deigned to send for him, and charge him to inform the Marechale
d'Effiat and all the conspirators that they might make a desperate
effort to deliver their young chief. Anne of Austria had even ventured
to send many of the gentlemen of Auvergne and Touraine to Lyons to
assist in their last attempt.

"The good Queen!" said he; "she wept greatly when I saw her, and said
that she would give all she possessed to save you. She reproached
herself deeply for some letter, I know not what. She spoke of the
welfare of France, but did not explain herself. She said that she
admired you, and conjured you to save yourself, if it were only through
pity for her, whom you would otherwise consign to everlasting remorse."

"Said she nothing else?" interrupted De Thou, supporting Cinq-Mars, who
grew visibly paler.

"Nothing more," said the old man.

"And no one else spoke of me?" inquired the master of the horse.

"No one," said the Abbe.

"If she had but written to me!" murmured Henri.

"Remember, my father, that you were sent here as a confessor," said De
Thou.

Here old Grandchamp, who had been kneeling before Cinq-Mars, and
dragging him by his clothes to the other side of the terrace, exclaimed
in a broken voice:

"Monseigneur--my master--my good master--do you see them? Look
there--'tis they! 'tis they--all of them!"

"Who, my old friend?" asked his master.

"Who? Great Heaven! look at that window! Do you not