that you are in my nephew's company, if you would
not make me regret my clemency and repair the error of it by having you
hanged. And now, adieu!"

I stood aghast. Was I indeed dismissed? Albeit naught had been said, I
had not doubted, since my interview with him that morning, that did I
succeed in saving Andrea my rank in his guards--and thereby a means of
livelihood--would be restored to me. And now matters were no better than
they had been before. He dismissed me with the assurance that he was
merciful. As God lives, it would have been as merciful to have hanged
me!

He met my astonished look with an eye that seemed to ask me why I
lingered. Then reading mayhap what was passing in my thoughts, he raised
a little silver whistle to his lips and blew softly upon it.

"Bernouin," said he to his valet, who entered in answer to the summons,
"reconduct M. de Luynes."

I remember drawing down upon my bedraggled person the curious gaze of
the numerous clients who thronged the Cardinal's ante-chamber, as I
followed Bernouin to the door which opened on to the corridor, and which
he held for me. And thus, for the second time within twenty-four hours,
did I leave the Palais Royal to wend my way home to the Rue St. Antoine
with grim despondency in my heart.

I found Michelot on the point of setting out in search of me, with a
note which had been brought to my lodging half an hour ago, and which
its bearer had said was urgent. I took the letter, and bidding Michelot
prepare me fresh raiment that I might exchange for my wet clothes, I
broke the seal and read:

"A thousand thanks, dear friend, for the service you have rendered me
and of which his Eminence, my uncle, has informed me. I fear that you
have made many enemies for yourself through an action which will likely
go unrewarded, and that Paris is therefore as little suited at present
to your health as it is to mine. I am setting out for Blois on a mission
of exceeding delicacy wherein your advice and guidance would be of
infinite value to me. I shall remain at Choisy until to-morrow morning,
and should there be no ties to hold you in Paris, and you be minded to
bear me company, join me there at the Hotel du Connetable where I shall
lie to-night. Your grateful and devoted

"ANDRE."

So! There was one at least who desired my company! I had not thought it.
"If there be no ties to hold you in Paris," he wrote. Dame! A change
of air would suit me vastly. I was resolved