"It is business," replied I, "with which you, my friend, can have no concern; and business of such import, that I must stay till I see him." "Come with me," said the porter, after thinking a moment; and he then led me across a court wherein a carriage was standing, with horses harnessed, and torches burning at the doors. "Monsieur de Noyers, one of the secretaries of state, is here," he added, seeing me remark the carriage, "and you can speak with him." "My business is with his eminence the Cardinal," replied I, "and with him alone." "Well, come with me, come with me!" said the porter. "If your business be really important, you must see some one who is competent to speak on it; and if it be not important, you had better not have come here." Thus saying, he led me into a small hall, and thence into a cabinet beyond, hung with fine tapestry, and lighted by a single silver lamp. Here he bade me sit down, and left me. In a few minutes a door on the other side of the room opened, and a cavalier entered, dressed in a rich suit of black velvet, with a hat and plume. He was tall, thin, and pale, with a clear bright eye, and fine decided features. His beard was small and pointed, and his face oval, and somewhat sharp; and though there was a slight stoop of his neck and shoulders, as if time or disease had somewhat enfeebled his frame, yet it took nothing from the dignity of his demeanour. He started, and seemed surprised at seeing anyone there; but then immediately advanced, and looking at me for a moment, with a glance which read deeply whatever lines it fell upon, "Who are you?" demanded he. "What do you want? What paper is that in your hand?" "My name," replied I, "is Louis Count de l'Orme; my business is with the Cardinal de Richelieu, and this paper is one which I am charged to deliver into his hand." "Give it to me," said the stranger, holding out his hand. My eye glanced over his unclerical habiliments, and I replied, "You must excuse me. This paper, and the farther news I bring, can only be given to the cardinal himself." "It shall go safe," he answered in a stern tone. "Give it to me, young sir." There was an authority in his tone that almost induced me to comply; but reflecting that I might be called to a severe account by the unrelenting minister, even for a mere error in judgment, I persisted in my original determination. "I must repeat," answered I, "that I can give this to no one but his eminence himself, without an express order from his own hand to do so." "Pshaw!" cried he, with something of a smile; and taking up a pen, which lay with some sheets of paper on the table, he dipped it in the ink, and scrawled in a large, bold hand,-- "Deliver your packet to the bearer. "Richelieu."