continued Athos, imperturbably, “the happy restoration of his majesty Charles II. to the throne of his ancestors.”

This shade did not escape his cunning eminence. Mazarin was too much accustomed to mankind, not to see in the cold and almost haughty politeness of Athos, an index of hostility, which was not of the temperature of that hot-house called a court.

“You have powers, I suppose?” asked Mazarin, in a short, querulous tone.

“Yes, monseigneur.” And the word “monseigneur” came so painfully from the lips of Athos that it might be said it skinned them.

Athos took from an embroidered velvet bag which he carried under his doublet a dispatch. The cardinal held out his hand for it.