Edward smiled. "My opinion would be little worth," he answered. "I have but little experience in those things of which your Eminence has a thorough knowledge."

"And yet," said Richelieu, "I am told that you have great taste and skill in arts which reached their height not long ago, but which we have nearly lost in these days: I mean the designing in precious metals. A very extraordinary man told me you were a thorough connoisseur."

"The little knowledge I possess," answered Edward, "is derived from seeing every day in my early youth some very precious specimens which my father brought over from Italy. They are all gone, alas! but one; and that, I am afraid, will soon be lost also."

"Nay," said Richelieu, rather eagerly; "if you want to part with it I will buy it. I am making a collection of the works of Cellini and the men of his time."

"Could I obtain it," answered Edward, "I would humbly offer it to your Eminence without price, as a token of my grat.i.tude. And, indeed, it is beyond price. But some day soon I fear it will be in less worthy hands, or melted down into gold crowns and the jewels picked out to adorn the brown neck of some Parisian seamstress. It is within the walls of yon devoted town, my lord. I was foolish not to bring it away with me."

Richelieu paused, and did not speak for a moment or two; but then he asked, "What sort of object is it?"

"It is a golden cup, or what we in England call a hanap," answered Edward, "with figures exquisitely sculptured, and the rim surrounded by a garland of jewels in the form of flowers. The figures are in high relief, and with their hands seem to support the garland."

"It must be beautiful indeed!" said Richelieu.

"The only defect," continued Edward, "is that my name is engraved upon the stem."

"What may be its value?" asked the cardinal: "it is a pity indeed so rare an object should be lost."

"I never heard it valued," replied the young man; "and I will sell it to no one on this earth,--though I should have pride to see it in the hands of a benefactor."

"Well, it is a pity," said the cardinal. "But, as there is no help, let us change the theme. Have you seen or heard from Mademoiselle de Mirepoix--I should say Madame de Langdale--lately?" He spoke with a smile. But Edward had learned that Richelieu's questions, even in his lightest moments, always meant something, and he replied, at once, "Not very lately, my lord. I have seen her once since we parted in Aunis, as she was pa.s.sing through Aix on her way to Venice; and she has written to me once since her arrival, by the hands of a gentleman whom you know,--Signor Morini."

"He is a very singular man," said Richelieu, in a meditative tone. "Do you know, young gentleman, he says that your fate and mine are connected by an inseparable link?--that we were born under the same aspect?"

"Your star must have been in the ascendant, sir," said Edward, with a smile. "Yet there must be some truth in it; for who could have thought a year ago that I should be sitting here, conversing with your Eminence as calmly as if you were some ordinary literary man? who could have thought that I should be indebted to you for more than life?"

"Act honestly and truly by me, young gentleman, and my friendship shall go further still," replied Richelieu. "As to these visions of astrologers," he continued, "they are only to be regarded as curious speculations. The star of a man's destiny is in his heart or in his brain. It is that star raises to power, shields against danger, guides amidst intrigue. G.o.d's will is above all; but he it is who gives the clear mind and the strong will, the wisdom and the courage; he renders them successful as far as their success is necessary to his own wise purposes, and then throws a bean-stalk in their way, and they stumble and fall. We have naught to do but to bow the head and say, Thy will be done!"

He ceased, and fell into a fit of thought, and Edward rose and took up his hat as if about to retire; but Richelieu motioned him to his chair again, saying, "Sit, sit! I have yet an hour. Have you read any of this man Corneille's verses?"

Edward, luckily, could say he had not, for Richelieu's dislike for Corneille was already strong, and, taking up a book from the table, he read some lines, commenting severely upon what he called their rudeness.

He went on with his criticisms for some ten minutes, to an attentive ear; but Edward fancied he perceived an under-current of thought running through his literary disquisition.

"Perhaps I may be wrong," said Richelieu; "but in all matters of taste I like the graceful and the polished better than the strong and rude. This cup which you were speaking of must be a beautiful specimen of art. The design as you have described it shows the conception of a great genius.

Is it known who was the artist?"

"I cannot a.s.sure your Eminence with certainty," replied Edward; "but he was always said to be a countryman and rival of Benvenuto Cellini. I forget the name; but it is engraved on the inside of the foot."

"John of Bologna," said the cardinal,--"probably John of Bologna."

"The same, the same," said the young Englishman. "I now remember that is the name."

"It is invaluable!" exclaimed Richelieu, warmly. "His works are much more rare than those of Cellini, and some are amongst the most triumphant efforts of genius. There is a Mercury, for instance: the heavy bronze seems instinct with G.o.dlike life,--actually springing from the ground. What a pity that a work of his should be lost! Is there no way of getting it out of Roch.e.l.le, think you?"

"But one," answered Edward, gravely; "and that I do not suppose either your Eminence or the people of Roch.e.l.le would permit."

"What is it?" demanded Richelieu, abruptly.

Edward's heart beat high, for he had brought him to the very point he desired; but yet a single misplaced word might spoil all, and he struggled against his eagerness with sufficient success to answer with seeming indifference. "I left the cup," he said, "in the hands of the syndic of the goldsmiths, one Clement Tournon, who had taken me to his house and nursed me most kindly----"

"He is a pestilent heretic," said the cardinal, sharply.

"And so am I, my lord," answered Edward; "but he is an honest and a good man. I am willing, if your Eminence desires it, to try and get back into La Roch.e.l.le and bring you the cup; but I could only do so on being permitted to offer poor old Monsieur Tournon a pa.s.s to quit the city and escape the famine which they say is raging there."

Richelieu sat silent for a minute or two, and Edward then added, "I am not sure I shall be able to accomplish what I desire; but I will do my best, and shall be well pleased to see such a treasure of art in the hands of one who can appreciate it as your Eminence can."

"I could not accept it," said Richelieu, "except on making compensation."

"Nothing like sale, my lord," replied Edward: "the price has been paid beforehand, and it must be an offering of grat.i.tude, or not at all. But I much fear that the Roch.e.l.lois will not admit me within their walls. I can but make the attempt, however."

"But this Clement Tournon," said Richelieu, thoughtfully. "You know not what you ask, young man. Every mouth within that city hastens its fall; and I have been obliged already to show myself obdurate to all entreaties,--to see women and children and old men driven back into their rebellious nest. They say, too, your great Duke of Buckingham is preparing another fleet for their relief. He will find himself mistaken; but still we must waste no time."

"Old Clement Tournon is no great eater," said Edward, bluntly. "His feeble jaws will not hasten the fall of the city five minutes; and it is possible that, if admitted to your Eminence's presence, he might be the means of persuading his fellow-citizens to submission, if he sees that defence is hopeless and that favorable terms may be obtained."

"Ha! say you so?" exclaimed Richelieu; and, leaning his head upon his hand, he fell into profound thought. Edward would not say a word more, and after some five or ten minutes the cardinal looked up and shook his head. "They will receive no messengers, reject all offers: even the king's proclamation sent by a herald they would not admit within the walls, and Montjoie had to leave it before the gates."

"Perhaps they have learned better by this time," said Edward; "and, if not, they can but drive me back with bullets and cannon-b.a.l.l.s."

"Well," said Richelieu, with a clearer brow, "you give me a better reason now for suffering you to go. So help me Heaven as I would spare this poor infatuated people the horrors they now suffer, if they would let me! But rebellion must not exist in this land, and shall not while I live. They must submit; but they shall have terms that even you will call fair. So you may tell them if you can but find your way in."

Edward saw that the message was vague and not at all likely to have any effect upon the people of Roch.e.l.le; but he did not try to bring the cardinal to any thing more definite, for he had no inclination to take part in a negotiation for the surrender of Roch.e.l.le, remembering that all the plans of his own Government might be frustrated by such a result.

He and the cardinal both kept silent for several minutes, Richelieu's eyes remaining fixed upon the table, and his face continuing perfectly motionless, though he was evidently deep in thought. At length he said, abruptly, "You will come back yourself?"

"Upon my honor, sir," replied Edward, "if I live and they will let me.

They shall either keep me as a prisoner, or I will be here in four-and-twenty hours."

"So be it, then," said the cardinal. "You shall not only have a pa.s.s, but some one shall be sent with you to the very outmost post; for there is something uncommonly suspicious in your appearance. Twice in your case already men have set at naught my hand and seal. The second case shall be punished: the third, for your sake and my own, must be guarded against. As to your entrance into Roch.e.l.le, there may be--probably will be--some difficulty; but if you are skilful--and I think you are--you may succeed. I need not recommend to you caution in what you say and do.

We have some disease in the camp, it is true; but they have pestilence in the city. Our supplies are not over-abundant; but they are suffering from the direst famine. Every day increases our supplies and diminishes theirs."

"I shall say as little as possible, your Eminence," answered Edward.

"First, because I cannot, knowing what I know, advise them to hold out; secondly, because if I advise them to surrender I might be wrong.

Clement Tournon, when he has seen your Eminence, after having witnessed what is pa.s.sing in the city, can advise better, and will be more readily believed. It is well you should have some means of communication with the Roch.e.l.lois. I know none of their chief men, even by name; and they would put no faith in me."

"In a week from this time," said Richelieu, "they must surrender. The d.y.k.e will be finished which shuts them out from all the world. Vain will be English fleets, vain all their imaginary armies. The gaunt spectre which already strides through their streets will have knocked at every door. Where will be the hand to fire the cannon? where the arm to defend the gate? The dead and the dying will be the garrison; and the soldiers of the king will rush in to wrest the undefended plunder from a host of skeletons. I would fain avoid such a result, young man," he added, with a shudder. "I delight not in misery and suffering; I have no pleasure in tears and woe. But France must have peace, the king must have loyal subjects; and, were my brother amongst those rebels, they should be forced to obey. You are frank, and I believe you honest. I therefore expect that you bear them no message from the enemies of France, that you delude them with no vain hopes, that you return yourself as speedily as possible, and that you bring this old man with you if he will come. Remember that I am not to be trifled with, and that I bear open enmity more patiently than deceit."

"I have no fear, sir," answered Edward. "I have come back and placed myself in your power without the least hesitation, and I will do so again; but then I will beseech your Eminence to let me pa.s.s over into England. I am nearly without money; and, although I have sufficient on the other side of the Channel, I cannot get it without going for it."

"We will talk of that hereafter," answered Richelieu. "I think I will let you go; but, at all events, you shall not want for money. What is money, Monsieur Langdale? It is but dross,--at least, so the poets tell us; and yet I have found few men who like it better than the poets."

"Without it men cannot travel," replied Edward,--"cannot eat or drink or even sleep; and it would be hard for want of money to want meat and drink and sleep when I have plenty for all my wants on the other side of that arm of the sea; but harder still, my lord cardinal, to take from any man money that does not belong to me."

"How proud these islanders are!" said Richelieu, with a smile. "Why, there is hardly a Frenchman in the land who would not thank me for a crown."

"If I had worked for it," answered Edward, "I might thank you too; but till there be peace between France and England I can do your Eminence no service."

"Now, let any one say," exclaimed the cardinal, with a laugh, "that I am not the sweetest-tempered man in all this realm of France,--ay, as sweet and gentle as Signor Mazarin himself. Why, no man will believe that you say to me such things and I do not send you to the Bastille at once. Oh, tell it not in the camp, or you will lose credit forever."