Chavigni entered the room with a countenance, from which all his efforts could not banish the anxiety of his mind. Naturally quick and impatient, it often happened that his long training in the school of political duplicity did not suffice to overcome the struggles of his original disposition; and even the violent effort to conquer the native earnestness and impatience of his character would sometimes produce more visible marks of its working than if he had suffered his passions to take their course. In the present instance, his fine features were drawn and sharpened by the attempt to drive from them any expression of his feelings, and his eye flashed with ill-subdued fire, as he irritated himself with a thousand conjectures concerning the latent movers of the recent occurrences. On entering, he pointed with his hand towards the door for the Governor to leave them; and seeing that he did not immediately obey, he exclaimed in no very placable voice, “Begone! I wish Monsieur de Blenau’s company alone.—What do you wait for? Oh, there is the order for his liberation—There, take your pack with you.” And he pointed to the lower officers of the prison, who thus dismissed, quickly followed the Governor as he shrunk away from the Statesman’s hasty and irritable glance.

“Monsieur de Blenau,” said Chavigni, as soon as the door was closed, “it was not worth while to detain you here for an hour or two, till such time as the order could be sent for your emancipation; I therefore drew it out in the lodge.—But you owe me nothing for that;” he continued, seeing that De Blenau was about to thank him for the supposed service. “I made it an excuse to stay behind, in order to seek an answer to a question or two. Now, I make no pretence of asking you these questions as a friend, for I know that you consider me not as such; but I do it merely on my own account, wishing for information on some points regarding which you alone can satisfy me. It is your business, therefore, to consider before you answer, whether so to do be for your interest or not. The only thing I will promise, which I do honestly, is, not to let your replies go beyond my own breast.”

“The method of your address is certainly extraordinary, Monsieur de Chavigni,” replied De Blenau: “but however we may differ on many points, I give you credit for so much frankness, that I believe you would not betray even your enemy if he relied on you: neither do I know, or rather recollect, at this moment, any question I should hesitate to answer. Therefore propose what you think fit, and I will satisfy you, or not, as suits my convenience.”

“Between you and me, Monsieur de Blenau, there is no need of fine words. I have always found you strictly honourable, and therefore I rely on what you tell me, as if it were within the scope of my own knowledge. In the first place, then, you have been witness to an extraordinary scene to-day.—Are you at all aware from what cause the King has acted as he has done, so at variance with his conduct for fifteen years?”

“Particularly, I am aware of no cause, and can only conjecture that his Majesty is tired of being dictated to by his servant?”

“Umph!” said Chavigni, in a tone of dissatisfaction; “there is no need to triumph, Monsieur de Blenau. Am I to believe that you know of no one who has instigated the King to take such singular steps in your favour?”

“Of none whatever!” answered the Count; “unless it were her Majesty the Queen,—the effect of any application from whom, would be quite different, I should conceive.”

“No, no, no!” said Chavigni. “It was not on her that my suspicions rested. I must have been mistaken. One word more.—Have you had any late communication with Monsieur de Cinq Mars?”

“About three weeks ago I wrote to him from St. Germain, sending some young hounds for the King’s service; but that was long before I dreamed of finding my way hither.”

“I must have been mistaken,” repeated Chavigni. “I thank you, Monsieur de Blenau. This must be a whim of the King’s own—God grant it! for then the humour will soon pass.”

“And now, Sir,” said De Blenau, “that I have answered your questions, there are one or two subjects on which you might give me satisfaction. Are you inclined to do so?”

“If I can, without injuring myself or others, or disclosing any plan that I am desirous to conceal,” replied the Statesman.

“My questions shall regard the past, and not the future,” said De Blenau; “and are intended merely to gratify my own curiosity. In the first place then, I once saw you at St. Germain, in conversation with a demoiselle attached to Mademoiselle de Beaumont—to what did your business with her refer?”

“I did not think you had seen us,” replied Chavigni. “I might answer that I was making love, and probably you thought so as well as she did herself; but my conversation referred to you. I found that she had been present when Seguin, the surgeon, brought the news of your having been wounded to the Queen: and from her also I learned the words he made use of to let her know that you had not lost the packet which you had upon you in the wood of Mantes.”

“Monsieur de Chavigni,” said De Blenau, with more cordiality in his manner than he usually evinced towards the Statesman; “the world is too well aware of your domestic happiness for any one to suspect you of degrading yourself to a soubrette; I thank you for your candour. Now tell me, is a poor man, called Philip, the woodman, detained here on my account? and why is he so?”

“He is,” replied Chavigni, “and the reason is this:—he happened to recognize amongst those who attacked you a servant of mine, and was fool enough to tell it abroad, so that it reached the King’s ears. Now, though every thing is justifiable in the service of the State, I did not particularly wish that business investigated, and I therefore put Monsieur Philip in here to keep him out of the way for a time. You are now of course aware why you were attacked. It was to secure the papers on your person, which papers we supposed were part of a treasonable correspondence between the Queen and the Spanish Government. All that is now over; and therefore, if you will promise me not to stir the business of that affray in any way—which indeed would do you no good—this meddling Woodman shall have his liberty.”

“I never had the slightest intention of stirring it,” replied De Blenau; “and therefore rest satisfied on that score. But at the same time I must tell you that the whole affair came to the King’s ears through me, and not through the Woodman, I believe. I observed your servant, as well as he did, and did not fail to write of it to several of my friends, as well as speak of it openly on more than one occasion; and this, depend upon it, has been the means by which it reached the ears of the King, and not by poor Philip.”

“Then I have done him wrong,” said Chavigni, “and must make him some amends.—Let me see.—Oh, he shall be Sub-lieutenant of the forest; it will just suit him. And now, Monsieur de Blenau, as a friend, let me give you one piece of advice. This country is in a troubled and uncertain state, and there will be, doubtless, many plots and cabals going on. Retire, as you are commanded, into Bourbon; and if any one attempt to lead you into any conspiracy, so far from acceding, do not even listen to them; for the Cardinal owes you something for what has happened to-day, and he is not one to forget such debts. The eye of an angry man is upon you!—so be as guarded as if you trod amongst vipers. The time will come when you will say that Chavigni has advised you well.”

“And it is certainly advice which I shall follow, both from reason and inclination. But let me ask—am I to consider the King’s prohibition strict in regard to communicating with any