this cunning Mazarin
promises and promises us money and men, while those who reckon on his
word struggle and die. Ah well, monseigneur has the gout; he will die
of it."

"And this Marquis de Perigny; will not Father Chaumonot waste his
time?" asked the mariner.

"Who can say? The marquis is a strange man. He is neither Catholic
nor Huguenot; he fears neither God nor the devil. He laughs at death,
since to him there is no hereafter. Yet withal, he is a man of justice
and of many generous impulses. But woe to the man who crosses his
path. His peasants are well fed and clothed warmly; his servants
refuse to leave him. He was one of the gayest and wildest courtiers in
Paris, a man who has killed twenty men in duels. There are two things
that may be said in his favor; he is without hypocrisy, and is an
honest and fearless enemy. Louis XIII was his friend, the Duc de Rohan
his comrade. He has called Gaston of Orleans a coward to his face.

"He was one of those gallants who, when Richelieu passed an edict
concerning the loose women of the city, placed one in the cardinal's
chamber and accused him of breaking his own edict. Richelieu annulled
the act, but he never forgave the marquis for telling the story to
Madame de Montbazon, who in turn related it to the queen. The marquis
threw his hat in the face of the Duc de Longueville when the latter
accused him of receiving billets from madame. There was a duel. The
duke carried a bad arm to Normandy, and the marquis dined a week with
the governor of the Bastille. That was the marquis's last affair. It
happened before the Fronde. Since then he has remained in seclusion,
fortifying himself against old age. His hotel is in the Rue des
Augustines, near the former residence of Henri II.

"The marquis's son you have seen--drunk most of the time. Happy his
mother, who died at his birth. 'Tis a pity, too, for the boy has a
good heart and wrongs no one but himself. He has been sent home from
court in disgrace, though what disgrace no one seems to know. Some
piece of gallantry, no doubt, which ended in a duel. He and his father
are at odds. They seldom speak. The Chevalier, having money, drinks
and gambles. The Vicomte d'Halluys won a thousand livres from him last
night in the private assembly."

"Wild blood," said Bouchard, draining his tankard. "France has too
much of it. Wine and dicing and women: fine snares the devil sets with
these. How have you recr