"His innocence. You see I was correct;" and madame's face grew placid

again. So satisfied was she that she did not notice Beaufort's pallor

nor the fever which burned in his brilliant eyes.

When the Chevalier was ushered into Mazarin's presence he was in great

perturbation. Diane had not met him in the gallery as she had fairly

promised, and the young page who had played Mercury to their intrigue

stared him coolly in the face when questioned, and went about his

affairs cavalierly. What did it mean? He scarce saw Mazarin or the

serious faces of the musketeers. With no small effort he succeeded in

finding his voice.

"Monseigneur, I have the honor to report to you the success of my

mission. His Holiness directed me to give you this message." He

choked; he could utter no more.

Mazarin read wrongly these signs of agitation. He took the missive and

laid it aside. He drummed with his fingers, a sign that he was

contemplating something disagreeable.

"Monsieur, when did you arrive?" he asked.

"At six this evening, Monseigneur," answered the Chevalier

listlessly . . . He had entered Paris with joy in his heart, but now

everything seemed to be going wrong.

"Take care, Monsieur," said Mazarin, lifting a warning finger. "You

arrived yesterday, secretly."

"I? Why, Monseigneur, this is the twentieth of February, the evening

we agreed upon. I slept last night at the Pineapple in Fontainebleau.

I repeat to you, I arrived scarce two hours ago." It was now for the

first time that he noted the seriousness of the faces confronting him.

"And I repeat that you arrived last night."

"Monseigneur, that is telling me that I lie!"

"Then tell the truth." Mazarin did not particularly relish the

Chevalier's haughtiness. "You were in Paris last night."

"Monseigneur, I am a gentleman. While I lack many virtues, I do not

lack courage and truthfulness. When I say that I slept in

Fontainebleau, I say so truthfully. Your Eminence will tell me the

cause of this peculiar interrogatory. There is an accusation pending."

There was no fear in the Chevalier's face, but there was pride and

courage and something bordering closely on contempt.

"Very well, then," replied Mazarin icily. "You were in Paris last

night. You had an appointment at the Hôtel de Brissac. You entered by

a window. Being surprised by the aged Brissac, you killed him."

The musketeers, who knew the Chevalier's courage, exchanged glances of

surprise and disbelief. As for the accused, he stepped back, horrified.

"Monseigneur, one or the other of us is mad! I pray God that it be

myself; for it can not be possible that the first minister in France

would accuse of such a crime a gentleman who not only possesses courage

but pride."

"Weigh your words, Monsieur le Chevalier," warned the cardinal. The

Chevalier's tone was not pleasing to his cardinal's ear.




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