At this moment the door opened, and Sully appeared. It was evident that he was in one of his surliest moods. Henry, preoccupied as he was, observed this, and, fearing some outburst, dismissed the Council and Bassompierre, and carefully shut the door. “Sully, what am I to do? By the mass! that monster, my nephew, has fled, and carried off my dear Charlotte with him!” This was not, as has been seen, the first time that the grave statesman Sully had been consulted in his master’s love affairs. He had passed very many hours in endeavouring to cajole Henriette d’Entragues to give up the fatal marriage contract signed by the King; he had all but quarrelled with his master in opposing his marriage with Gabrielle d’Estrées; and he had been called up in the dead of night to remonstrate with the Queen when, in consequence of a violent quarrel, she had sworn that she would leave the Louvre. Sully, like the King, had grown old, and was tired of acting adviser to a headstrong master, whose youthful follies never seemed to end. Now he gave a grunt of disapproval. “I am not surprised, Sire. I told you the Prince would go. If he went himself, it was not likely he would leave his wife behind him--was it? That would have been too complaisant in his highness. If you wanted to secure him, you should have shut him up in the Bastille.” “Sully, this raillery is ill-timed. I am distressed beyond all words. The Princess is in an awful predicament. Laperrière’s son brought the news. His father was their guide. He left them in the middle of a dismal forest. He shall be paid a mine of gold for his information.” [Illustration: COUCY--INTERIOR, SHOWING THICKNESS OF WALLS.] Sully shook his head and cast up his hands. “God help us!” muttered he. “Never was anything more dreadful,” continued the King. “My beloved Charlotte was lured from Muret under the pretence of a hunting-party. She was to be carried to the rendezvous in a coach. The dear creature started before daylight, says Laperrière’s son, and as the morning broke, found herself in a strange part of the country--in a plain far from the forest. She stopped the coach, and called to Virrey, who rode by the door, and asked him whither they were going? Virrey, confused, said he would ride on and ask the Prince, who was in advance, leading the way, the cowardly scoundrel!” and Henry shook his fist in the air. “My nephew came up, and told her she was on her road to Breda, upon which the sweet soul screamed aloud, says Laperrière, and lamented, entreating to be allowed to return. But that ruffian, Condé, rode off and left her in the middle of the road, bidding the driver push forward. At last they came to Couçy, where they changed horses. Just as they were about again to start the coach broke down.” “Praised be God!” ejaculated Sully. “I hope no one was found to mend it.” “Sully, I believe you are without heart or feeling,” cried the King, reproachfully.