It was now the task of Fontrailles to keep off the hounds, while the King, anxious to have all the honours of the day to himself, began what is called in France the "_section_" and "_curée aux chiens_" without waiting for _piqueurs_ or ordinaries. Nevertheless, he had only time to make the longitudinal division of the skin, and one of the transverse sections from the breast to the knee, when the sound of a horse's feet made him raise his head from his somewhat unkingly occupation, thinking that some of the other hunters must be now come up. "_Que Diable!_" cried the King, viewing the strange figure of the Astrologer we have already noticed in this profound chapter. "_Je veux dire, Vive Dieu!_ What do you want? and who are you?" "A friend to the son of Henri Quatre," replied the stranger, advancing his horse closer to the King, who stood gazing on him with no small degree of awe--for be it remembered, that the superstitious belief in all sorts of necromancy was at its height both in England and France. "A friend to the son of Henri Quatre! and one who comes to warn him of near-approaching dangers." "What are they, friend?" demanded the King, with a look of credulous surprise: "Let me know whence they arise and how they may be avoided, and your reward is sure." "I seek no reward," replied the stranger, scornfully. "Can all the gold of France change the star of my destiny? No! Monarch, I come uncalled, and I will go unrewarded. The planets are still doubtful over your house, and therefore I forewarn you ere it be too late--A Spaniard is seeking your overthrow, and a woman is plotting your ruin--A Prince is scheming your destruction, and a Queen is betraying your trust. "How!" exclaimed Louis. "Am I to believe--" "Ask me no questions," cried the stranger, who heard the trampling of horses' feet approaching the scene of conference. "In this roll is written the word of fate. Read it, O King! and timely guard against the evil that menaces." So saying, he threw a scroll of parchment before the King, and spurred on his horse to depart; but at that moment, the figure of Cinq Mars, who by this time had run down the stag he had followed, presented itself in his way, "What mumming is this?" cried the Master of the Horse, regarding the stranger. "Stop him! Cinq Mars," cried Fontrailles, who foresaw that the stranger's predictions might derange all his schemes. "He is an impostor: do not let him pass!" And at the same time he laid his hand upon the Astrologer's bridle. But in a moment, the stranger spurring on his charger, overturned Fontrailles, shivered the hunting sword, which Cinq Mars had drawn against him, to atoms with one blow of his truncheon, and scattering the grooms and huntsmen like a flock of sheep, was soon out of reach of pursuit. "What means all this?" exclaimed Cinq Mars;--"explain Fontrailles! Sire, shall we follow yon impostor?"