Sully is seated in a sombre closet--looking towards the towers of Notre-Dame--at a table covered with papers. Condé is tall, thin, and slightly made. He is singularly ill-favoured, with dark hair and swarthy skin, a nose quite out of proportion with the rest of his face, and a sinister expression in his eyes. On entering he cannot conceal his uneasiness. “Be seated, monseigneur,” says Sully, scanning him from under his heavy eyebrows. “I have no time to spare--therefore I must use plain words. You speak of the King my master in terms that do you little credit. You are playing the devil, Prince. The King’s patience is well-nigh exhausted. I am commanded to keep back the payment of the pension you receive to mark his Majesty’s displeasure. If this has no effect upon you, other means must be tried.” While Sully speaks, Condé sits opposite to him unmoved, save that his dark face hardens, and he fixes his sullen eyes steadfastly upon Sully. “If I am what you say,” replies he at last doggedly, “if I speak ill of his Majesty, am I not justified? He is determined to ruin me. He persecutes me because I choose to keep my wife in the country. It is my desire to leave France--then I shall no longer give his Majesty offence.” “Impossible, monseigneur! As a Prince of the blood your place is at Court, beside the Sovereign.” “What! have I not liberty even to visit my own sister, the Princess of Orange, at Breda, in company with the Princess, my wife? That can be no affront to his Majesty. Surely, Monsieur de Sully, you cannot advise the King to refuse so reasonable a request?” “I shall advise him to refuse it, monseigneur, nevertheless. Persons of your rank cannot leave the kingdom--the very act is treason.” Condé casts up his eyes, and his hands-- “Was ever a man so ill used? My personal liberty denied me! My very allowance stopped!” “It is said, Prince, that you have plenty of Spanish doubloons at Chantilly,” returns Sully significantly. “It is false--tales to ruin me. Ever since my marriage I have been pursued by informers. It was by his Majesty’s command I married. Now he desires to seduce my wife--that is the truth. If I appear ungrateful, there is my reason.” “His Majesty assures me, Prince,” breaks in Sully, “that his sentiments towards your illustrious consort are those of a father.” “A father! Why, then, does he come disguised to Chantilly? He has been seen hiding in the woods there and at Muret. A pretty father, indeed! By the grace of God, I will submit to the tyranny of no such a father. It is a thraldom unbecoming my birth, my position, and my honour! While the King acts thus I will not come to Court, to be an object of pity and contempt!”