ri; and we were at least
free to tell him that we loved him."

Cinq-Mars, with eyes fixed upon those of Bassompierre, as if to force
himself to attend to his discourse, asked him what was the manner of the
late king in conversation.

"Lively and frank," said he. "Some time after my arrival in France, I
played with him and with the Duchesse de Beaufort at Fontainebleau; for
he wished, he said, to win my gold-pieces, my fine Portugal money. He
asked me the reason why I came into this country. 'Truly, Sire,' said I,
frankly, 'I came with no intention of enlisting myself in your service,
but only to pass some time at your court, and afterward at that of Spain;
but you have charmed me so much that, instead of going farther, if you
desire my service, I will devote myself to you till death.' Then he
embraced me, and assured me that I could not find a better master, or one
who would love me more. Alas! I have found it so. And for my part, I
sacrificed everything to him, even my love; and I would have done more,
had it been possible to do more than renounce Mademoiselle de
Montmorency."

The good Marechal had tears in his eyes; but the young Marquis d'Effiat
and the Italians, looking at one another, could not help smiling to think
that at present the Princesse de Conde was far from young and pretty.
Cinq-Mars noticed this interchange of glances, and smiled also, but
bitterly.

"Is it true then," he thought, "that the affections meet the same fate as
the fashions, and that the lapse of a few years can throw the same
ridicule upon a costume and upon love? Happy is he who does not outlive
his youth and his illusions, and who carries his treasures with him to
the grave!"

But--again, with effort breaking the melancholy course of his thoughts,
and wishing that the good Marechal should read nothing unpleasant upon
the countenances of his hosts, he said:

"People spoke, then, with much freedom to King Henri? Possibly, however,
he found it necessary to assume that tone at the beginning of his reign;
but when he was master did he change it?"

"Never! no, never, to his last day, did our great King cease to be the
same. He did not blush to be a man, and he spoke to men with force and
sensibility. Ah! I fancy I see him now, embracing the Duc de Guise in his
carriage, on the very day of his death; he had just made one of his
lively pleasantries to me, and the Duke said to him, 'You are, in my
opinion, one of the most agreeable men i