Ah, mon Dieu! what
part would they have him play there? What would they do with him? Ah, who
will protect thee, my son, in that dangerous place?" he continued,
reseating himself, and again taking his pupil's hands in his own with a
paternal solicitude, as he endeavored to read his thoughts in his
countenance.

"Why, I do not exactly know," said Cinq-Mars, looking up at the ceiling;
"but I suppose it will be the Cardinal de Richelieu, who was the friend
of my father."

"Ah, my dear Henri, you make me tremble; he will ruin you unless you
become his docile instrument. Alas, why can not I go with you? Why must I
act the young man of twenty in this unfortunate affair? Alas, I should be
perilous to you; I must, on the contrary, conceal myself. But you will
have Monsieur de Thou near you, my son, will you not?" said he, trying to
reassure himself; "he was your friend in childhood, though somewhat older
than yourself. Heed his counsels, my child, he is a wise young man of
mature reflection and solid ideas."

"Oh, yes, my dear Abbe, you may depend upon my tender attachment for him;
I never have ceased to love him."

"But you have ceased to write to him, have you not?" asked the good Abbe,
half smilingly.

"I beg your pardon, my dear Abbe, I wrote to him once, and again
yesterday, to inform him that the Cardinal has invited me to court."

"How! has he himself desired your presence?"

Cinq-Mars hereupon showed the letter of the Cardinal-Duke to his mother,
and his old preceptor grew gradually calmer.

"Ah, well!" said he to himself, "this is not so bad, perhaps, after all.
It looks promising; a captain of the guards at twenty--that sounds well!"
and the worthy Abbe's face became all smiles.

The young man, delighted to see these smiles, which so harmonized with
his own thoughts, fell upon the neck of the Abbe and embraced him, as if
the good man had thus assured to him a futurity of pleasure, glory, and
love.

But the good Abbe, with difficulty disengaging himself from this warm
embrace, resumed his walk, his reflections, and his gravity. He coughed
often and shook his head; and Cinq-Mars, not venturing to pursue the
conversation, watched him, and became sad as he saw him become serious.

The old man at last sat down, and in a mournful tone addressed his pupil:

"My friend, my son, I have for a moment yielded like a father to your
hopes; but I must tell you, and it is not to afflict you, that they
appear to me exces