ied he, in a furious tone. "If you remain another
instant, you are a dead man!"

He saw him gallop off, and reentered the tent. Alone with his friend, he
remained an instant standing, but pale, his eyes fixed, and looking on
the ground like a madman. He felt himself totter.

"De Thou!" he cried.

"What would you, my friend, my dear friend? I am with you. You have acted
grandly, most grandly, sublimely!"

"De Thou!" he cried again, in a hollow voice, and fell with his face to
the ground, like an uprooted tree.

Violent tempests assume different aspects, according to the climates in
which they take place. Those which have spread over a terrible space in
northern countries assemble into one single cloud under the torrid
zone--the more formidable, that they leave the horizon in all its purity,
and that the furious waves still reflect the azure of heaven while tinged
with the blood of man. It is the same with great passions. They assume
strange aspects according to our characters; but how terrible are they in
vigorous hearts, which have preserved their force under the veil of
social forms? When youth and despair embrace, we know not to what fury
they may rise, or what may be their sudden resignation; we know not
whether the volcano will burst the mountain or become suddenly
extinguished within its entrails.

De Thou, in alarm, raised his friend. The blood gushed from his nostrils
and ears; he would have thought him dead, but .for the torrents of tears
which flowed from his eyes. They were the only sign of life. Suddenly he
opened his lids, looked around him, and by an extraordinary energy
resumed his senses and the power of his will.

"I am in the presence of men," said he; "I must finish with them. My
friend, it is half-past eleven; the hour for the signal has passed. Give,
in my name, the order to return to quarters. It was a false alarm, which
I will myself explain this evening."

De Thou had already perceived the importance of this order; he went out
and returned immediately.

He found Cinq-Mars seated, calm, and endeavoring to cleanse the blood
from his face.

"De Thou," said he, looking fixedly at him, "retire; you disturb me."

"I leave you not," answered the latter.

"Fly, I tell you! the Pyrenees are not far distant. I can not speak much
longer, even to you; but if you remain with me, you will die. I give you
warning."

"I remain," repeated De Thou.

"May God preserve you, then!" answered Cinq-Mars