Villa Grande approached his horse, and raising the flap of the saddle, with shaking hands, drew forth, from a pocket concealed in the padding, a large paper sealed in an envelope. Chavigni caught it eagerly from his grasp, and running his eye over the address, he read--"To Monseigneur the Duke de Bouillon, Commander-in-Chief of all the armies of France, warring in Italy."--"Ha!" continued the Statesman, "this is not the road to Italy. What brings you here?" and he turned towards Villa Grande. But while the Statesman's eyes were fixed upon the paper, the wily Italian had begun to creep towards the wood; Chavigni, however, perceiving his design, caught one of the pistols from the horse's saddle-bow, and pointing it towards the fugitive, soon brought him back again. "Stand you there, Sir," said he. "Now tell me what makes you here, when this packet was intended for Italy?" "Why, Monseigneur--why--why--to tell the truth, there was another little despatch to be delivered on the frontiers of Spain; here it is;" and diving into a deep pocket in his doublet, he produced a packet smaller than the other, and gave it into Chavigni's hand. "And now, Monseigneur, I have freely discovered all I know," continued Villa Grande, "I hope that you, Monseigneur, will promise me your protection; for if the other party get hold of me, they will murder me to a certainty." Chavigni made no answer, but without any ceremony broke the seals of the two packets, and passing his horse's bridle over his arm while he read them, he opened the treaty, and turned to the list of names by which it was signed. In the mean while, Villa Grande kept his eyes fixed upon him, watching for a favourable moment to escape, if the Statesman's attention should be sufficiently engaged to allow him so to do. "Ah! here I have them fairly written," proceeded Chavigni, speaking to himself. "Philip, the most Catholic!--Olivarez!--then follow Gaston of Orleans; Cinq Mars, Grand Ecuyer--Fontrailles;--and a space--for Bouillon of course. Now let us see the letter to the noble Duke;" and he opened the one which he found in the same packet with the treaty. But as he read, his eye fixed with painful earnestness upon the paper, and the colour fled from his cheek. "God of Heaven! what is this?" said he, reading. "'Though I doubt not, my noble friend, that after all which has lately passed, you would put your forces in motion at my simple desire, the King's command is yet higher authority; and that I now send you, to march with all speed to the frontier, embarking five thousand foot at Porto Longone, to land at Marseilles. All this in case the friends and adherents of Richelieu should attempt to make head against the royal authority.'----"