“And what did you reply to his most illustrious eminence?”

“That if the astrologer in question made almanacs I would advise him not to buy one.”

“Why not?”

“Because before you could escape you would have to be turned into a bird.”

“Unfortunately, that is true.  Let us go and have a game at tennis, La Ramee.”

“My lord —­ I beg your highness’s pardon —­ but I must beg for half an hour’s leave of absence.”

“Why?”

“Because Monseigneur Mazarin is a prouder man than his highness, though not of such high birth:  he forgot to ask me to breakfast.”

“Well, shall I send for some breakfast here?”

“No, my lord; I must tell you that the confectioner who lived opposite the castle —­ Daddy Marteau, as they called him ——­ "

“Well?”

“Well, he sold his business a week ago to a confectioner from Paris, an invalid, ordered country air for his health.”

“Well, what have I to do with that?”

“Why, good Lord! this man, your highness, when he saw me stop before his shop, where he has a display of things which would make your mouth water, my lord, asked me to get him the custom of the prisoners in the donjon. `I bought,’ said he, `the business of my predecessor on the strength of his assurance that he supplied the castle; whereas, on my honor, Monsieur de Chavigny, though I’ve been here a week, has not ordered so much as a tartlet.’ `But,’ I then replied, `probably Monsieur de Chavigny is afraid your pastry is not good.’ `My pastry not good!  Well, Monsieur La Ramee, you shall judge of it yourself and at once.’ `I cannot,’ I replied; `it is absolutely necessary for me to return to the chateau.’ `Very well,’ said he, `go and attend to your affairs, since you seem to be in a hurry, but come back in half an hour.’ `In half an hour?’ `Yes, have you breakfasted?’ `Faith, no.’ `Well, here is a pate that will be ready for you, with a bottle of old Burgundy.’  So, you see, my lord, since I am hungry, I would, with your highness’s leave ——­ " And La Ramee bent low.

“Go, then, animal,” said the duke; “but remember, I only allow you half an hour.”

“May I promise your custom to the successor of Father Marteau, my lord?”

“Yes, if he does not put mushrooms in his pies; thou knowest that mushrooms from the wood of Vincennes are fatal to my family.”

La Ramee went out, but in five minutes one of the officers of the guard entered in compliance with the strict orders of the cardinal that the prisoner should never be left alone a moment.

But during these five minutes the duke had had time to read again the note from Madame de Montbazon, which proved to the prisoner that his friends were concerting plans for his deliverance, but in what way he knew not.

But his confidence in Grimaud, whose petty persecutions he now perceived were only a blind, increased, and he conceived the highest opinion of his intellect and resolved to trust entirely to his guidance.