"You, too, papa--I love you, too, with all my heart." Léodgard raised himself once more to embrace his daughter passionately; but a terrifying pallor overspread his features, and Bathilde cried: "In heaven's name, do at least take some of that cordial that revived you last night!" "Not now; I need nothing but rest. Adieu, Bathilde! adieu, my daughter!" "No, not _adieu_, my dear, but _au revoir_! we will return soon." "Wait until I ring.--Dear darling, go, and pray to the good Lord for me." "Yes, papa; I will pray to have you get well very quick." "My dear, if you will allow us to, we might stay with you; we would make no noise." "Yes, papa, let me stay; I will be very good; I won't play." "Not now--go; later, later, you may come again. Go, I beg you; leave me!" Bathilde felt a heavy weight at her heart; she left her husband with profound regret; but she dared not disobey him. She took Blanche away, throwing kisses to her father; while he, surmounting his pain, succeeded in smiling at her once more. Jarnonville and the officer arrived in due time at the palace occupied by the cardinal. No guards followed them, for the chevalier had given his word not to try to escape, and they knew that he would not break it. Having escorted Jarnonville to a reception room adjoining Richelieu's cabinet, the officer left him there while he went to notify his eminence. He returned in a few moments and informed his prisoner that the cardinal begged him to wait until he was at liberty. The chevalier was left alone, and half an hour passed, during which he saw no one. But the time sped very quickly for him; for, having been deeply impressed by all the events which he had witnessed, and in which he now found himself playing an important part, he gave no thought to the risk he himself was running; he thought of the tears Bathilde would shed, of poor little Blanche, who would soon have no father; and he said to himself: "But it must be so! Yes, he must cease to live; his death will not lessen his crimes, but it will make it possible to conceal them." At last, a servant appeared and informed Jarnonville that the cardinal could receive him, and the chevalier was ushered into Richelieu's study. The minister was alone; dressed in his red soutane, and pale, thin, fatigued by overwork. That fragile, ailing man, who made all Europe tremble, retained in his glance, instinct with fire and vivacity, all the youthful vigor that his body had lost. Seated at his desk, examining reports, Richelieu toyed with a cat that lay on his knees, while two others played on a rug at his feet. When the Sire de Jarnonville entered, the cardinal raised his head, looked at him a few seconds, and said at last in a tone that bore no trace of anger: "What is this that I hear, Sire de Jarnonville? That you have been fighting a duel with the Comte de Marvejols? Is that the truth?" "Yes, monseigneur."