I had made up my mind to lay my information before Sully. That he was in Paris I knew, having obtained the information from Pantin, and it was my intention to repair the next day to the Hotel de Bethune, and tell the minister all. The night was one of those in which sleep would not come, not because the place was a strange one--I was too old a campaigner to lose rest because the same feather pillow was not under my head every night--but because my thoughts kept me awake. What these were I have already described, and they were in force sufficient to banish all sleep until the small hours were well on, and I at last dropped off, with the solemn notes of the Bourdon ringing in my ears. It was about ten o'clock the next morning that I mounted Couronne, and, followed by Jacques, well armed, took my way towards the Hotel de Bethune. We found the Barillierie thronged with people on their way to St. Denis to witness the burial of Madame de Beaufort, and the Pont au Change was so crowded that we had to wait there for a full half-hour. At last we got across the bridge, on which in their eagerness for gain the money-changers had fixed their stalls, and pushed and struggled and fought over their business on each side of the narrow track they left for the public. Finally, we passed the grey walls of the Grand Chatelet, and turning to our right, past St. Jacques, the Place de Greve, and the Hotel de Ville, got into the Rue St. Antoine by a side street that ran from St. Gervais to the Baudets. Here we found the main street almost deserted, all Paris having crowded to the funeral, and a quarter-mile or so brought us to the gates of the Hotel de Bethune. Sully had just received the Master-Generalship of the Ordnance, and at his door was a guard of the regiment of La Ferte. I knew the blue uniforms with the white sashes well, and they had fought like fiends at Fontaine Francaise and Ham. The officer on guard very civilly told me that the minister did not receive that day, but on my insisting and pointing out that my business was of the utmost importance, he gave way with a shrug of his shoulders. 'Go on, monsieur le chevalier, but I can tell you it is of no use; however, that is a business you must settle with Ivoy, the duke's secretary.' I thanked him, and, dismounting and flinging the reins to Jacques, passed up the courtyard and up the stone steps to the entrance door. Here I was met by the same statement, that Sully was unable to receive to-day; but, on my insisting, the secretary Ivoy appeared and asked me my name and business. 'I have given my name twice already, monsieur,' I answered. 'I am the Chevalier d'Auriac, and as for my business it is of vital import, and is for Monseigneur's ear alone--you will, therefore, excuse me if I decline to mention it to you.' Ivoy bowed. 'It will come to me in its own good time, monsieur. Will you be seated? I will deliver your message to the duke; but I am afraid it will be of little use.'