With the embarrassment of the Count de Blenau's mind we have something more to do; and, to tell the truth, the more he reflected upon his situation, the more he was puzzled in regard to his future conduct. A fresh examination, either by Lafemas or some member of the Council, was to be expected speedily, under which he must either still refuse to answer, which would infallibly be followed by the _peine forte et dure_; or he must acknowledge that the Queen had privily conveyed him an order to confess all, which would involve his royal mistress and himself and Pauline in dangers, the extent of which he hardly knew; or he must reply to the questions he had before refused to answer, and disclose what had been intrusted to his honour, without showing that he was authorized to do so; in which case, the reproach of treachery and cowardice must inevitably fall upon his name. This was a dilemma with three horns, and each very sharp; so that it was difficult to determine which to jump upon, and seemingly impossible to avoid them all. De Blenau was sadly chewing the cud of these bitter doubts, when he heard some one enter the outer chamber; and the moment after, the very privacy of his bedroom was invaded by the Governor, who entered with a countenance pale and agitated; and who, like all people who have something horrible to communicate, begged him not to be alarmed, in a tone that was enough to frighten him out of his wits. "Alarmed at what?" demanded the Count, summoning courage to encounter the danger, whatever it might be. "Why, Monsieur de Blenau," answered the Governor, "you must prepare yourself to meet the Cardinal himself; a messenger has just come to say that he will be here in person without loss of time. He arrived last night at the Palais Cardinal, and brought the King to Paris with him." "You seem to hold this Cardinal in some fear," said De Blenau, almost smiling, amidst his own embarrassment, at the evident terror of the Governor. "I could have wished that he had given me a little more time for consideration; but I am not so frightened at him as you seem to be, who have nothing to do with it." "But pray remember, _mon cher Comte_," cried the Governor, "that you promised not to betray me to the Cardinal in any case." De Blenau's lip curled with contempt. "I think, you ought to know before this time," answered he, "that I am not likely to betray any one.--But there seems a noise and bustle in the court, in all probability caused by the arrival of the Cardinal. Go and receive him, and depend upon me."--Of all misfortunes on the earth, thought De Blenau, the curse of cowardice is the most dreadful.