We have now brought the history of De Pontis to that period when Marguerite, having left the prison with the intention of seeking an interview with Richelieu, to stay the proceedings of the _procureur_, so indecently hurried through the courts, did not repair till the following morn to the _Conciergerie_ to report her want of success. There was, indeed, no hope yet, as she had remarked so despondingly to her father. Nearly the whole day had she spent in a waiting-room of the _Palais Cardinal_, flattered with the expectation held out by the secretaries, that the cardinal would be visible when the important affairs of state were despatched; but, to her infinite grief, there came at length an official to say there would be no audience that day, for his eminence was sent for in a hurry to repair to the Tuileries. Giraud was distracted with the intelligence—he plainly foresaw the predetermined ruin of the veteran, and advised the damsel to throw herself once more at the feet of Louis—it was her only resource. Marguerite, in her lone chamber that night, prayed to the Holy Virgin for help—for strength to undergo the trials which awaited her—for fortitude to bear up against the contumely and rebuffs to which she was exposed. She prayed not to be relieved of the task, but for energy to meet it. From whatever source came the confidence, there was a secret prompting of the heart, urging her to persevere. Her father had been ever unlucky so long as his affairs were under his own management. Why should there not be a change when he was bereft of the power either to mend or mar his fortunes? His destiny in other hands, perhaps that would be vouchsafed to the daughter which was denied the parent. These might be fancies, but they lulled her to a quiet repose. “And what must be done,” said De Pontis, “with the _procureur_? It is hard that a king’s servant, in the name of his master, should be employed to oppress a king’s servant, against the royal inclination. What does Giraud mean to do now?” “Leave all to me,” replied Marguerite, with a smile. “I am making great proficiency in my new profession—and though I am very wretched and heart-broken at times—yet I feel a strange courage. But you must not expect to see me before to-morrow morning, for there is much to be done to-day.” Affairs were in that state, that the veteran himself was a cipher—he felt it, and made no reply. His daughter soon after left the prison, and De Pontis had to struggle with the terrible _ennui_ of the solitary chamber, and the deprivation of the usual means of passing the hours. CHAPTER III.