killed at La Rochelle?"

"The pretty widow who refuses to come to court?"

"The same, sire. She continues to reside at the antique chateau of her
late husband, alone, and without companionship; and, if report speak
truly, the brightest eyes of France are wasting their brilliancy in that
obscure retreat."

"Well, what is to be done? You would not, surely, order her up to
Versailles by a '_lettre de cachet?_'"

"No, sire, the measure were too bold; nay, perhaps my counsel will
appear far bolder: it is, that since Madame de Vaugirarde will not come
to court, your Majesty should go to Madame de Vaugirarde."

It was not very difficult to make this notion agreeable to the king. It
had one ingredient pleasurable enough to secure its good reception--it
was new--nobody had ever before dreamt of his Majesty making a tour
into the provinces _incog._ This was quite sufficient; and Richelieu had
scarcely detailed his intentions than the King burned with impatience
to begin his journey. The wily minister, however, had many things to
arrange before they set out; but of what nature he did not reveal to his
master. Certain is it that he left for Paris within an hour, hastening
to the capital with all the speed of post-horses. Arrived there, he
exchanged his court suit for a plain dress, and in a _fiacre_ drove to
the private entrance of the Theatre Francais.

"Is M. Duroset engaged?" said he, descending from the carriage.

"He is on the stage, monsieur," said the porter, who took the stranger
for one of the better _bourgeois_ of Paris, coming to secure a good
_loge_ by personal intercession with the manager. Now, M. Duroset was at
the very moment occupied in the not very uncommon task of giving a poor
actor his _conge_ who had just presented himself for an engagement.

As was the case in those days--(we have changed since then)--the
Director, not merely content with declining the proffered services,
was actually adding some very caustic remarks on the pretension of the
applicant, whose miserable appearance and ragged costume might have
claimed exemption from his gratuitous lecture.

"Believe me, _mon cher_," said he, "a man must have a very different air
and carriage from yours who plays 'Le Marquis' on the Parisian boards.
There should be something of the style and bearing of the world about
him--his address should be easy, without presumption--his presence
commanding, without severity."

"I always played the noble parts in