"But still there must be some one to rouse him," said Fontrailles, fixing his eyes on Cinq Mars with a peculiar expression, as if to denote that he was the man alluded to. "Suppose this were France," he proceeded, unbuckling his sword from the belt, and drawing a few lines on the ground with the point of the sheath: "show me a province or a circle that will not rise at an hour's notice to cast off the yoke of this hated Cardinal. Here is Normandy, almost in a state of revolt;--here is Guienne, little better;--here is Sedan, our own;--here are the Mountains of Auvergne, filled with those whom his tyranny has driven into their solitude for protection; and here is Paris and its insulted Parliament, waiting but for opportunity." "And here," said Cinq Mars, with a melancholy smile, following the example of his companion, and pointing out with his sword, as if on a map, the supposed situations of the various places to which he referred--"And here is Peronne, and Rouen, and Havre, and Lyons, and Tours, and Brest, and Bordeaux, and every town or fortress in France, filled with his troops and governed by his creatures; and here is Flanders, with Chaunes and Mielleray, and fifteen thousand men, at his disposal; and here is Italy, with Bouillon, and as many more, ready to march at his command!" "But suppose I could show," said Fontrailles, laying his hand on his companion's arm, and detaining him as he was about to walk on--"but suppose I could show, that Mielleray would not march,--that Bouillon would declare for us,--that England would aid us with money, and Spain would put five thousand men at our command,--that the King's own brother--" Cinq Mars waved his hand: "No! no! no!" said he, in a firm, bitter tone: "Gaston of Orleans has led too many to the scaffold already. The weak, wavering Duke is ever the executioner of his friends. Remember poor Montmorency!" "Let me proceed," said Fontrailles; "hear me to an end, and then judge. I say, suppose that the King's own brother should give us his name and influence, and the King himself should yield us his consent." "Ha!" exclaimed Cinq Mars, pausing abruptly.--The idea of gaining the King had never occurred to him; and now it came like a ray of sunshine through a cloud, brightening the prospect which had been before in shadow. "Think you the King would consent?"