"My friend," said he at length, "what is it you would have me do? This man--this bad man if you will--but still this great man--is like an oak whose roots are deep in the earth; you may hew them asunder one by one, but it requires a giant's strength to pluck the tree up at once. Richelieu's power may be taken from him gradually; but to attempt what you propose, would instantly cause a rebellion amongst my subjects. He has so many who depend upon him; he has so many that are allied to him--" "What!" exclaimed Cinq Mars, "shall it be said that King Louis was afraid to dismiss his own minister?" "Not afraid for myself, Sir," replied the King, somewhat sharply; "but afraid of bringing the miseries of civil war upon my people." Perceiving that Cinq Mars was urging the King too impetuously, Fontrailles, who had hitherto remained silent, now joined in the conversation in a soft insinuating tone, calculated to remove any newly raised irritation from Louis's mind. "All danger, Sire," said he, still labouring to quiet the King's fears without opposing his opinion, "all danger, which might otherwise be imminent, could easily be obviated, by commanding the noble Duke of Bouillon--" At the name of the Duke of Bouillon Louis made an impatient motion with his hand. "He is Spanish at his heart," said he; "that Duke of Bouillon is Spanish, rank Spanish. But what of him, Monsieur de Fontrailles?" "Believe me, my Liege," replied Fontrailles, "the Duke of Bouillon, whom I know well, is not so much a friend to Spain as he is an enemy to Richelieu. Remember, Sire, how he is linked with the Prince of Orange, the sworn adversary of Spain." Louis shook his head doubtingly. "But what of him, Fontrailles? Come, to the point." "Only this, Sire," said Fontrailles. "The Duke commands an army in Italy devoted to your Majesty's service; but permit me or Cinq Mars to give him private orders in your name to march them into France, and who shall dare to murmur at your royal will?" "Why, that might be done, it is true," answered Louis; "but I am afraid, _mon Grand_," he continued, applying to Cinq Mars the term by which he distinguished him in his kindest and most familiar moments--"I am afraid, _mon Grand_, that though thou art a keen huntsman and a good soldier, thou wouldst make but a sorry minister." "I minister!" exclaimed the Grand Ecuyer; "God forbid! No, no, my Lord! never did such a thought cross my imagination. Believe me, Sire, I had no view of personal aggrandizement in the proposal I submitted to your Majesty." "But if you take from Richelieu his office, whom do you wish to substitute in his place?" demanded Louis; "some one must be minister."