"Does Marie side with her aunt?" "She cannot help herself, though she has no liking for intrigue. But come, let us take a turn in the city; it will blow the cobwebs out of our brains." We had reached the Pont Neuf when a gaily dressed gallant, calling to Raoul, caused us to stop. "Armand!" exclaimed my comrade in surprise. "I understood you had gone to the Louvre!" "Are you not ashamed to be caught plotting with a _Mazarin_?" "Ah! I forgot that you knew M. de Lalande!" "Oh, yes," said I, "this gentleman and I are warm friends. He shows me to my inn, comes to my rooms, and invites me to go with him on his parties of pleasure." Laughing lightheartedly, young D'Arcy took my arm. "You rascal!" he cried, "it is fortunate we are at peace, or I should have to run you through for the honour of the Fronde. You made us the laughing-stock of Paris." I inquired if he had released the prisoner at the inn, on which he gave us such a comical account of the dwarf's unhappy plight that we could not keep from laughing aloud. "Who was he?" asked Raoul. "Pillot the dwarf, the trusty henchman of De Retz." "That is awkward for you," said Raoul turning to me. "Pillot is a cunning rogue, and is now hand in glove with your cousin. Really, Albert, you must take care of yourself, you have raised up a host of enemies already." "And the Italian cannot save you!" remarked D'Arcy, with a superior air; "his own downfall is at hand. Alas, my poor friend, I pity you." We were still laughing at him when he suddenly exclaimed, "Ah, here is Lautrec. Tell me, is he not a show picture? I feel almost tempted to change sides, if only to deck myself out so gorgeously." CHAPTER VII. The Cardinal takes an Evening Walk. D'Arcy's acquaintance was one of the _petits maitres_, as Conde's followers were called, and it was easy to see that he prided himself immensely on his fine clothes. He was dressed in a coat of dark blue cloth covered with fine lace; his mantle was scarlet, and his silk stockings, ornamented with lace, were of the same colour. He wore a black hat turned up _a la catalane_, and adorned by an enormous black feather, and his gloves were of a soft, gray buckskin. His scabbard was picked out with various designs, and jewels shone in the hilt of the sword. "Lautrec, my friend, come here!" cried D'Arcy. "_Ma foi!_ what an interesting group! Raoul and I for the Duke; Lautrec for Conde, and M. de Lalande for Mazarin. We only want a friend of De Retz to complete the party!" "What?" cried Lautrec, looking at me with a broad smile, "the hero of Scarron's poem? The youngster from the country who tricked De Retz? M. de Lalande, I am delighted to meet you!" "We will go to Perret's, and Lautrec shall sing us the famous song which Scarron wrote on our attempt to abduct the Cardinal," cried D'Arcy. "But," said I in surprise, "it is not possible that the affair is openly talked about?"