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"I write these sad details in haste, on board a Genoese galley, into which Fontrailles, Gondi, Entraigues, Beauvau, Du Lude, myself, and others of the chief conspirators have retired. We are going to England to await until time shall deliver France from the tyrant whom we could not destroy. I abandon forever the service of the base Prince who betrayed us.
"You have spoiled all, my dear Abbe, with this mob," said Fontrailles, stamping his foot, to Gondi, who was already sufficiently nonplussed; "your good uncle has fine parishioners!" "It is not my fault," replied Gondi, in a sullen tone; "these idiots came an hour too late.
Fontrailles, this young man will get on, I prophesy. But we must make haste; in two hours we shall have some of the archbishops of Paris, my, uncle's parishioners. I have instructed them well; and they will cry, 'Long live Monsieur! Long live the Regency! No more of the Cardinal! like madmen. They are good devotees, thanks to me, who have stirred them up. The King is very ill.
"See what is going on, Monsieur D'Artagnan," said he. D'Artagnan went to the window with his habitual composure. "Oho!" said he, "what is this? Marechal de la Meilleraie returning without a hat Fontrailles with his arm in a sling wounded guards horses bleeding; eh, then, what are the sentinels about? They are aiming they are going to fire!"
Fontrailles took upon himself the recital, in which, as we may suppose, the populace played a great part and Monsieur's people none, and in his peroration he said: "From our windows even, Monseigneur, respectable mothers of families might have been seen, driven by despair, throwing their children into the Seine, cursing Richelieu."
"As to continuing, I will not consent to it, gentlemen," said Fontrailles; "Monsieur de Cinq-Mars has behaved too nobly toward me. My pistol went off too soon, and his was at my very cheek I feel the coldness of it now but he had the generosity to withdraw it and fire in the air. I shall not forget it; and I am his in life and in death."
Fontrailles, this young man will get on, I prophesy. But we must make haste; in two hours we shall have some of the archbishops of Paris, my uncle's parishioners. I have instructed them well; and they will cry, 'Long live Monsieur! Long live the Regency! No more of the Cardinal! like madmen. They are good devotees, thanks to me, who have stirred them up. The King is very ill.
"It is gone." "Who bears it?" "Fontrailles." "Recall him." "He will, ere this, have passed the defiles of Oleron," said Cinq-Mars, rising up. "All is ready at Madrid, all at Sedan. Armies await me, Marie armies! Richelieu is in the midst of them. He totters; it needs but one blow to overthrow him, and you are mine forever forever the wife of the triumphant Cinq-Mars."
If we return we shall meet the Swiss and the foot-soldiers, who are marching in this direction." "Monsieur de Fontrailles says well," said De Thou; "but if we do not return, here are these Spaniards, who are running to arms, and whose balls we shall presently have whistling about our heads."
"Why, hardly anything, Monseigneur," said Fontrailles. "Chance led us to meet in the crowd some of our friends who had a quarrel with Monsieur de Chavigny's coachman, who was driving over them. A few hot words ensued and rough gestures, and a few scratches, which kept Monsieur de Chavigny waiting, and that is all." "Absolutely all," repeated Montresor.
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