It was eleven o'clock on the following day when Edward Langdale appeared at the door of Monsieur de Tronson. The laquais said he did not know whether his master was visible or not, but he would see; and, leaving the young Englishman in an ante-chamber, he went in and remained some five minutes. At his return he asked Edward to follow, and introduced him into the bed-chamber of the secretary, who welcomed him, he thought, rather coldly. "I hear, Monsieur de Langdale," said De Tronson, "that you have accurately fulfilled the injunctions of his Eminence and your word. That, my good cousin, Madame de Lagny, has told me; but I think you should have been here earlier." "It was my intention, sir," replied Edward, seating himself in a chair to which the secretary pointed, near that in which he himself sat, wrapped in a large dressing-gown, by the fire, though it was the month of July. "After having left my name in the ante-chamber of his Eminence, I went to my auberge for a few minutes, and then came out, with the intention of paying my respects to you; but I was stopped by a great crowd of people and forced to witness a dreadful scene, which rendered me incapable of holding any rational conversation with any one." "Ha! you were there!" exclaimed the secretary, suddenly roused from the sort of listless mood in which he seemed plunged when Edward entered. "What happened? Tell me all. But first shut that door, if you please. I am ill, or I would not trouble you; but it is well to have no listening ears in this place, whatever one has to say." Edward closed the door, and, although unwillingly, detailed all that he had witnessed of the execution of the unhappy Chalais. De Tronson was moved far more than the young man expected. He put his hand over his eyes, murmuring, "Poor lady! Unhappy young man!" and Edward thought he saw some tears steal down his cheek. "I call God to witness," he exclaimed, at length, "that I had no share in this affair! Though my relations with Monsieur de Chalais were very slight, I would have saved him if I could,--saved him from himself, I mean." He sank into silence; and, to change the conversation, Edward said, "I would have been here earlier this morning, but I thought you would probably be at the council." "There will be no council to-day," replied the secretary, shaking his head: "we are all made sick by this affair. It has been like one of those epidemic blasts that sweep over the marshes, filling every one they touch with fever. I did not know you had waited on his Eminence: that was what I alluded to,--not a mere formal visit to me. That was all well; but you had better let him know that you are here. I know not that he will see you; but you must show every token of respect--especially just now." "Shall I go to his apartments, then?" asked Edward. "No, no," said De Tronson, with somewhat of the petulance of illness: "call a servant."