CHAPTER VI. Was I Mistaken? At the corner of the narrow street opposite the astrologer's house I stopped suddenly, and hid in the shelter of a doorway. Two men, wearing cloaks so arranged that their faces could not be seen, stood before the door, waiting for admission. One, a short man, was a stranger to me, but at the other I looked my hardest. It is not an easy matter to distinguish a person whose features are hidden, but if height, build, and general carriage counted for anything, then the tall man was no other than my cousin Henri. Presently, after a whispered conversation with some one inside, they entered the house, and the door was shut. Now, although Mazarin kept his own counsel, I had learned that the house of the good Martin was a kind of spider's web, and that the silly flies entangled in its meshes were for the most part members of the Fronde. The house was visited by persons of both sexes and of all ranks, from the members of the Royal family downwards. They went there for all sorts of purposes. Some required rare medicines, others charms to ward off or drive away disease; one desired to learn the date of his death, another the success or failure of his plans, which the astrologer was supposed to tell by the stars or by means of crystal globes. And the learned Martin, while plying his strange trade, discovered all their secrets, their hopes and fears, their ambitions, their loves and hates; and in due time the information reached that famous room in the Palais Royal, where the wily Italian sat, spinning the fate of men and nations alike. It was no rare event therefore for strangers to be observed at the astrologer's house, and in an ordinary way I should have taken no further notice of the incident. But if one of the visitors was really my cousin, there must be something strange happening. He had no faith in the stars, and would certainly not bother his head about the future as depicted in glass balls. Besides--and this made the mystery deeper--he must know that Martin was the Cardinal's friend, or rather dependant; and it seemed strange that so clever a man as my cousin should trust himself in an enemy's power. My head began to swim again as I tried to reason the matter out. Was it Henri after all? It was possible I had been mistaken, and in any case the note must be delivered, so, crossing the road, I knocked boldly at the door. After some delay the window above my head was opened, and a man glancing out asked my business. "To see your master, and that sharply," I replied. Saying he would admit me immediately, the fellow disappeared, and presently I heard him stumbling along the passage. He spent a long time undoing the bolts and bars, but at last the door was opened wide. "Enter, monsieur," said the fellow, "you will be welcome, though my master is not dressed to receive visitors. He has passed the night in reading the heavens, and is fatigued."