The rapid pace with which he always proceeded, soon brought the King close to Cinq Mars and Fontrailles. "Good-morrow, Monsieur de Fontrailles," said he, as the Count bowed low at his approach. "Do not remain uncovered. 'Tis a fine day for forest sports, but not for bare heads; though I have heard say, that if you were in the thickest mist of all Holland, you would see your way through it.--What! _mon Grand Ecuyer_," he continued, turning to Cinq Mars; "as sad as if thou hadst been plotting, and wert dreaming even now of the block and axe?" And with a kind and familiar air, he laid his hand upon his favourite's arm: who on his part started, as if the Monarch had read his thoughts and foretold his doom. A single word has sometimes lost or won an empire. Even less than a single word, if we may believe the history of Darius's horse, who, being a less loquacious animal than Balaam's ass, served his master without speaking. However, Fontrailles fixed his eye on Cinq Mars, and seeing plainly the effect of Louis's speech, he hastened to wipe it away. "To calculate petty dangers in a great undertaking," said he, "were as weak as to think over all the falls one may meet with in the chase, before we get on horseback." Both Cinq Mars and the King were passionately fond of the noble forest sport, so that the simile of Fontrailles went directly home, more especially to the King, who, following the idea thus called up, made a personal application of it to him who introduced it. "Jesu, that were folly indeed!" he exclaimed, in answer to the Count's observation. "But you are not fond of the chase either, Monsieur de Fontrailles, if I think right; I never saw you follow boar or stag, that I can call to mind." "More my misfortune than my fault, Sire," replied Fontrailles. "Had I ever been favoured with an invitation to follow the royal hounds, your Majesty would have found me as keen of the sport as even St. Hubert is said to have been of yore." "Blessed be his memory!" cried the King. "But we will hunt to-day; we will see you ride, Monsieur de Fontrailles. What say you, Cinq Mars? The parties who went out to turn a stag last night (I remember now) presented this morning, that in the _bosquet_ at the end of the forest, near Argenin, is quartered a fat stag of ten, and another by Boisjardin; but that by Argenin will be the best, for he has but one _refuite_ by the long alley.--Come, gentlemen, seek your boots,--seek your boots; and as our _Grand Veneur_ is not at Chantilly, you, Cinq Mars, shall superintend the chase. Order the _Maitre valet de chiens_ to assemble the old pack and the _relais_ at the _Carrefour d'Argenin_, and then we will quickly to horse." So saying, he turned away to prepare for his favourite sport; but scarcely had gone many paces ere he slackened his pace, and allowed the two gentlemen to rejoin him. "What think you, friend?" said he, addressing Cinq Mars; "they tell me, the Cardinal is sick. Have you heard of it?"