"I am waiting till the King is ready," answered the Master of the Horse composedly, scarcely taking his eyes from the romance.
"And is it possible," asked Fontrailles in a tone of angry astonishment, "that you have lain here reading that drivelling book, and suffered Chavigni to be again so long with the King?"
"Again!" said Cinq Mars, becoming more attentive; "he only passed once that I saw."
"And ought he to have been there once, if that were all?" asked Fontrailles. "But let me tell you, Cinq Mars, he was there last night for more than an hour. Oh, Cinq Mars! Cinq Mars! is this a time, when our lives, our fortunes, and our country's weal are at stake, to sit there dozing over a romance, and see our bitterest enemy have access to the King's ear, but too easy to be abused? Depend on it, something more will come of this."
"But why did you not let me know," demanded the Master of the Horse, "that he had seen the King last night?"
"I learned it but this moment," replied Fontrailles. "But here comes a Page from the King's apartments. A message to you, Cinq Mars, on my life."
The Page approached. "I am commanded by the King's Majesty to acquaint you, Monseigneur," said he, addressing the Grand Ecuyer, "that he feels himself too unwell to enjoy the pleasures of the chase to-day. But he desires that his indisposition may not prevent you, and the other gentlemen invited, from following your sport."--And having delivered this message, the attendant withdrew without waiting for any reply.
"Well, now you see, Fontrailles," exclaimed Cinq Mars, "there is nothing wrong here. Nothing can be more kind and considerate than, when ill himself, to wish us to follow the sport without him."
An expression of heavy, deep-seated thought sat upon the brow of the clear-sighted, suspicious Fontrailles. He took two or three steps up and down the apartment, and then, turning to Cinq Mars with a countenance in which painful anxiety and bitter irony were strangely mingled, he considered his companion with an attentive glance, which ran rapidly over his tall elegant figure. "Cinq Mars," said he, "you are more than six feet high, and could spare a few inches of your height upon an occasion--even were they to make you shorter by the head, you would still be a tall man. As for me, I am short already, and cannot afford to be cut down. A word to the wise--I go to shelter myself from pruning-knives. Do as you please. We shall meet in this world or the next. Adieu!" And turning on his heel, he quitted the saloon.