Princes and nobles, warriors and politicians had thought it no crime to undertake the death of this tyrant Minister; but yet there was something in the mind of Cinq Mars so opposite to every thing base and treacherous, that Fontrailles feared to approach boldly the proposal he was about to make. "Let us suppose, my noble friend," said he, in that slow and energetic manner which often lends authority to bad argument, "that all our schemes succeed--that the tyrant is stripped of the power he has so abused--that the tiger is enveloped in our toils. What are we to do? Are we to content ourselves with having caught him? Are we only to hold him for a moment in our power, and then to set him loose again, once more to ravage France, and to destroy ourselves? And if we agree to hold him in captivity, where shall we find chains sufficient to bind him, or a cage in which we can confine him with security, when there are a thousand other tigers of his race ready to attack the hunters of their fellow?" "I propose nothing of the kind," answered Cinq Mars; "once stripped of his authority, let him be arraigned for the crimes which he has committed, and suffer the death he has merited. The blood of thousands will cry out for justice, and his very creatures will spurn the monster that they served from fear." "Then you think him worthy of death," said Fontrailles, in that kind of undecided manner which showed that he felt he was treading on dangerous ground. "Worthy of death!" exclaimed Cinq Mars; "who can doubt it?--Fontrailles, what is it that you mean? You speak as if there was something in your mind that you know not how to discover. Speak, man. What is it you would say?" "Who will deny that Brutus was a patriot?" said Fontrailles; "a brave, a noble, and a glorious man? And Brutus stabbed Cæsar in the Capitol!--Cinq Mars, when the freedom of our country is at stake, shall we wait tamely till we have preached a timid Monarch into compliance, or drawn a foreign power to our aid, when _one--single--hand_ could do the work of justice, and rid the world of a tyrant who has lived so much too long?" "Ha!" exclaimed Cinq Mars, starting back, and laying his hand upon his sword; "dost thou suppose me an assassin? Art thou one thyself, that thou canst so well gloze over murder with a stale tale of antiquity?--Monsieur de Fontrailles," he continued more calmly, but still with stern indignation, "you have mistaken the person to whom you addressed yourself. Pardon me. We will speak no more upon this subject, lest we end worse friends than we began."