"Madness and folly!" exclaimed Chavigni, striking his hand against his forehead with vexation. "Madness and folly!--Rascal, saddle me a horse," he continued to a groom, who now loitered into the court with that sort of slow indifferent air which would put an angel in a passion. "Where, in the name of all the devils, have you been lingering? Pardon me, your Eminence--but I am vexed. I did not think his great mind was so overthrown.--Saddle me a horse, I say. Slave, must you stand eaves-dropping? Better you had been born deaf than overhear my conversation. There are such things as oubliettes to cure listeners. Saddle me a horse, I say." "Will you not take some of my servants with you?" said Mazarin; "they are all in readiness." "No, no," replied Chavigni, "I go alone. Do not let it get abroad that I am gone. I will be back betimes to-morrow." "You had better take one servant, at least," said the Cardinal. "The roads are not safe. It is dangerous." "Dangerous!" exclaimed Chavigni. "Who thinks of danger when his all is at stake? Your Eminence has a great regard for human lives, I know--for mine more especially. But depend upon it, I shall come home safe to-morrow, though I go alone to-night. Now, Sir," he continued to the groom, who led forth a strong black hunter for his service, "girth up the saddle a little tighter: unbuckle that cross from his poitral; I am neither going on a pilgrimage nor a procession." And now, walking twice round the horse to see that all the caparisons were in right order, he sprang into the saddle, and dashing his rowels into the hunter's flank, galloped out of the court-yard, bowing with a smile as he passed by Mazarin, who started back a step, as the horse's feet, in the rapidity of its course, struck fire with the stones of the pavement. CHAPTER IX. Which shows how a King made reparation, and what came of it.