The coadjutor went to him and held out his hand.  The young man gazed at him as if he would have read the secret of his heart.

“My dear Monsieur Louvieres,” said the coadjutor, “believe me, I am truly concerned for the misfortune which has happened to you.”

“Is that true, and do you speak seriously?” asked Louvieres.

“From the depth of my heart,” said Gondy.

“In that case, my lord, the time for words has passed and the hour for action is at hand; my lord, in three days, if you wish it, my father will be out of prison and in six months you may be cardinal.”

The coadjutor started.

“Oh! let us speak frankly,” continued Louvieres, “and act in a straightforward manner.  Thirty thousand crowns in alms is not given, as you have done for the last six months, out of pure Christian charity; that would be too grand.  You are ambitious —­ it is natural; you are a man of genius and you know your worth.  As for me, I hate the court and have but one desire at this moment —­ vengeance.  Give us the clergy and the people, of whom you can dispose, and I will bring you the citizens and the parliament; with these four elements Paris is ours in a week; and believe me, monsieur coadjutor, the court will give from fear what it will not give from good-will.”

It was now the coadjutor’s turn to fix his piercing eyes on Louvieres.

“But, Monsieur Louvieres, are you aware that it is simply civil war you are proposing to me?”

“You have been preparing long enough, my lord, for it to be welcome to you now.”

“Never mind,” said the coadjutor; “you must be well aware that this requires reflection.”

“And how many hours of reflection do you ask?”

“Twelve hours, sir; is it too long?”

“It is now noon; at midnight I will be at your house.”

“If I should not be in, wait for me.”

“Good! at midnight, my lord.”

“At midnight, my dear Monsieur Louvieres.”

When once more alone Gondy sent to summon all the curates with whom he had any connection to his house.  Two hours later, thirty officiating ministers from the most populous, and consequently the most disturbed parishes of Paris had assembled there.  Gondy related to them the insults he had received at the Palais Royal and retailed the jests of Beautin, the Count de Villeroy and Marechal de la Meilleraie.  The curates asked him what was to be done.

“Simply this,” said the coadjutor.  “You are the directors of all consciences.  Well, undermine in them the miserable prejudice of respect and fear of kings; teach your flocks that the queen is a tyrant; and repeat often and loudly, so that all may know it, that the misfortunes of France are caused by Mazarin, her lover and her destroyer; begin this work to-day, this instant even, and in three days I shall expect the result.  For the rest, if any one of you have further or better counsel to expound, I will listen to him with the greatest pleasure.”