t he placed the prisoners in the hands of the Sieur Thome,
provost of the merchants of Lyons; he then took leave of them, followed
by the whole of the body-guard, silently, and in tears.

"Weep not," said Cinq-Mars; "tears are useless. Rather pray for us; and
be assured that I do not fear death."

He shook them by the hand, and De Thou embraced them; after which they
left the apartment, their eyes filled with tears, and hiding their faces
in their cloaks.

"Barbarians!" exclaimed the Abbe Quillet; "to find arms against them, one
must search the whole arsenal of tyrants. Why did they admit me at this
moment?"

"As a confessor, Monsieur," whispered one of the commissioners; "for no
stranger has entered this place these two months."

As soon as the huge gates of the prison were closed, and the outside
gratings lowered, "To the terrace, in the name of Heaven!" again
exclaimed Grandchamp. And he drew his master and De Thou thither.

The old preceptor followed them, weeping.

"What do you want with us in a moment like this?" said Cinq-Mars, with
indulgent gravity.

"Look at the chains of the town," said the faithful servant.

The rising sun had hardly tinged the sky. In the horizon a line of vivid
yellow was visible, upon which the mountain's rough blue outlines were
boldly traced; the waves of the Saline, and the chains of the town
hanging from one bank to the other, were still veiled by a light vapor,
which also rose from Lyons and concealed the roofs of the houses from the
eye of the spectator. The first tints of the morning light had as yet
colored only the most elevated points of the magnificent landscape. In
the city the steeples of the Hotel de Ville and St. Nizier, and on the
surrounding hills the monasteries of the Carmelites and Ste.-Marie, and
the entire fortress of Pierre-Encise were gilded with the fires of the
coming day. The joyful peals from the churches were heard, the peaceful
matins from the convent and village bells. The walls of the prison were
alone silent.

"Well," said Cinq-Mars, "what are we to see the beauty of the plains, the
richness of the city, or the calm peacefulness of these villages? Ah, my
friend, in every place there are to be found passions and griefs, like
those which have brought us here."

The old Abbe and Grandchamp leaned over the parapet, watching the bank of
the river.

"The fog is so thick, we can see nothing yet," said the Abbe.

"How slowly our last sun appears!"