fault.

One of the Italian gentlemen had hardly finished asking the Marechal what
he thought of the way in which the Cardinal treated the daughter of the
Duc de Mantua, when he exclaimed, in his familiar language:

"Heavens, man! what are you talking about? what do I comprehend of this
new system under which France is living? We old companions-in-arms of his
late Majesty can ill understand the language spoken by the new court, and
that in its turn does not comprehend ours. But what do I say? We speak no
language in this sad country, for all the world is silent before the
Cardinal; this haughty little, vassal looks upon us as merely old family
portraits, which occasionally he shortens by the head; but happily the
motto always remains. Is it not true, my dear Puy-Laurens?"

This guest was about the same age as the Marechal, but, being more grave
and cautious, he answered in vague and few words, and made a sign to his
contemporary in order to induce him to observe the unpleasant emotions
which he had caused the mistress of the house by reminding her of the
recent death of her husband and in speaking thus of the minister, his
friend. But it was in vain, for Bassompierre, pleased with the sign of
half-approval, emptied at one draught a great goblet of wine--a remedy
which he lauds in his Memoirs as infallible against the plague and
against reserve; and leaning back to receive another glass from his
esquire, he settled himself more firmly than ever upon his chair, and in
his favorite ideas.

"Yes, we are in the way here; I said so the other day to my dear Duc de
Guise, whom they have ruined. They count the minutes that we have to
live, and shake the hour-glass to hasten the descent of its sands. When
Monsieur le Cardinal-Duc observes in a corner three or four of our tall
figures, who never quitted the side of the late King, he feels that he is
unable to move those statues of iron, and that to do it would require the
hand of a great man; he passes quickly by, and dares not meddle with us,
who fear him not. He believes that we are always conspiring; and they say
at this very moment that there is talk of putting me in the Bastille."

"Eh! Monsieur le Marechal, why do you delay your departure?" said the
Italian. "I know of no place, except Flanders, where you can find
shelter."

"Ah, Monsieur! you do not know me. So far from flying, I sought out the
King before his departure, and told him that I did so in order to save
peo