must be sought in a higher quarter, of making a permanent change in his position.

Jules still hesitated; but seeing from the look of St. Maur that his own behaviour was conveying the impression that the gratuity given was not bountiful enough, he hastened to assure the Secretary that he was deceived.

"Deceived!” cried St. Maur, quickly, "how deceived? I hope

not !"

" I mean,” replied Martin, "that you think you have not given me gold enough."

"I think no such thing," said the Secretary, "or I should have corrected my error; but if thinkyou

"I am wrong, again, Monsieur St. Maur," exclaimed the barber, solemnly; "what I meant was, that you would doubtless believe by my delay, that I was wishing for more money, and I was very anxious, before I mentioned other matters, to inform Monsieur, that if such were his thoughts, he was deceived."

"Well!" cried St. Maur, bursting into laughter at the precision of the explanation, "speak as you will; but remember, I have duties to perform this very evening."

And so speaking, the youth flung himself into a large chair, and awaited tranquilly the communication.

"I know it well," said Jules; "what I have said will travel upward. But I have another subject to speak of, which relates only to yourself."

"And what is that?" asked the Secretary, starting from his recumbent position with some confusion; a movement which he felt heartily ashamed of the moment it occurred. But the barber had touched a string which vibrated to the heart. What can he mean? said the youth to himself; has he a message from-no, it is impossible. "Monsieur de Broussel is very rich," said Jules, looking at the Secretary attentively.

"I know it," observed St. Maur, eyeing the barber with surprise and curiosity; "but that does not concern me."

66

I have seen Mademoiselle de Broussel," continued Jules, growing more fluent; “she is very beautiful; indeed, I will pledge myself and Josephine says she is more amiable than her married sister."

to it;

He paused here, partly, perhaps, to observe the effect his discourse would produce; but seeing that St. Maur remained a passive listener, he continued:

"The family, certainly, is merely of yesterday; but they are very rich, and Mademoiselle is very beautiful; and if Monsieur du Tremblay, a very old name-old as the Languedocian rocks-did not object; and he is a man of honour and courage, and 1 am thinking -I am thinking two things, Monsieur."

"What are they, Jules ?" said the Secretary, very calmly.

"If Monsieur St. Maur married the lady, and studied very hard, perhaps for two years only, he would doubtless be eligible to the reversion of the presidency before the old gentleman died; and it might be then transferred without the great cost of repurchase from the crown."

"That is one thought, friend Jules; what is the other?" inquired St. Maur.

If Monsieur had the same foolish pride as du Tremblay," said the barber, "why he might still marry Mademoiselle, and pursue his present fortunes. The Secretary to an Archbishop, a friend of the Prince of Condé, is a far better match than a poor Chatelain with a ruined château and a muddy carp-pond, supposing the antiquities of their families to be equal. I feel the President would receive Monsieur with open arms."

"I am thinking, Sieur Martin," said the Secretary with feigned gravity, "that to nineteen men out of twenty, such a proposal as yours would result thus; that the polite friend in the Archbishop's livery who ushered you to my door, would cudgel you soundly beyond the palace-gates."

Jules looked rather abashed; he knew not how far St. Maur was in earnest, but he still kept his ground, saying:

"I know I have been making a very delicate proposal, which not one man in twenty would dare utter, because he would not have your interest so much at heart as I have, Monsieur."

"Begone, Jules," cried the youth, determined to get rid of his visitor before he grew angry with him.

"But still reflect, Monsieur," remarked the barber, lingering near the door, if we once throw our chance away-”

St. Maur pointed authoritatively to the door, which cut short Jules' argument. He was forced to obey, and left the apartment.

CHAPTER XV.

When I record within my musing mind,
The noble names of wights bewicht in love,
Such solace for myself therein I find,

As nothing may my fixed fansie move.

GASCOIGNE.

TWENTY-FOUR hours had elapsed since the last conversation with the Coadjutor, and St. Maur was again in the Prelate's closet, awaiting his return from the Hôtel de Chevreuse. When de Retz appeared, he complained of fatigue, and of the weight of care upon his mind.

"As soon as the affair of the herald is despatched, we must rescue the Prince, or Mazarin will prove an overmatch for us," was the first remark he uttered; to which, after a pause, he added

Of what avail is all our clever plotting? If the Prince were free, but for one day, he would effect more than all that has been done since the Cardinal played us that scurvy trick."

St. Maur perceived that his temper was ruffled; and knowing that the usual course of political events exercised but little influence on his lively and volatile mind, he attributed the change to some fresh storm at the Hôtel de Chevreuse, or that the old quarrel had broken out afresh. Instead of requiring, as the youth expected, a report of his commission, de Retz indulged in a rambling train of reflections, mixed with murmurs, and half-confidential hints, as though he wished to be drawn out on the subject of his distress.

r

"I am watched, St. Maur; there are secret spies who track me wherever I go," said the Prelate. "I have been told this evening of all my actions throughout the day. In the afternoon, I went out privately-even that was discovered, and the dress I wore."

"The life of Monsigneur is too precious to be wantonly exposed without an escort; within these walls he is safe from all machinations," remarked the youth.

"Time alone teaches skill," said de Retz, brightening, * and you have not the art of concealing your purpose. But I will give you my confidence. I admire your silence on the scene at the hotel, and may trust to your prudence."

Recalling to the youth's recollection Mademoiselle's ebullition of rage, he said she bore too hard upon him. Was it not enough that

he paid her a homage and devotion which scandalized all Pairs, in the person of its future Archbishop? Not that he cared for the scandal; let that rest with both father and uncle, who would have him a priest. But with respect to a man of his character, the lady to whom his knee was bent should have the forbearance not to exercise too close a scrutiny over his conduct and actions. She would gain more from his generosity of nature, than by striving to storm him into constancy. The Duchess, he said, expected much through his interest, when the time arrived for the court to buy its peace with the Fronde. But if he were to be slowly roasted at the fire of Mademoiselle's indignation, it were better he should break at once: though there was a fascination and a charm in this youthful, wild, and impetuous beauty, which he admitted he could not resist, despite her want of decorum, and of the graces of cultivated society. His own life, he said with enthusiasm, was a romance. There was nothing excelling, nothing equalling it, in the fictions of the French novelists; and it pleased him to find a being like Isabella de Chevreuse, whose very existence, in such a polished era, was a mystery and a wonder. They were born each for the sake of the other. Still, it behoved not even her to tempt him too strongly to break his silken chains. It was only yesterday, he proceeded to say, that he had seen, while preaching at Notre Dame, a damsel whose face forcibly struck his fancy, as resembling the Clotildes and Ermengardes of the darker ages, such as are oft depicted in the monkish missals of the period-innocent, yet high-minded and full of character. It was this admiration which brought destruction so near his head; but if it had ended there, he should not have cared. Unfortunately, in talking to his principal valet, a confident in his love affairs, he found that the man knew the lady by sight, and had often seen her going to prayers, on lay days, to the Church of St. Paul and St. Louis, in the Rue St. Antoine.

Tempted, as the Coadjutor declared, out of revenge to Mademoiselle, to see the unknown once more, he went privately this morning to the Church of St. Paul, and had the felicity of being rewarded for his pains. He should have followed the damsel home, and ascertained her name and lineage, had he not found himself most unexpectedly dogged and watched by two men, who seemed to act independently of each other, but were certainly both intent on watching his motions, and who, as he had afterwards reason to sup.. pose, knew his person, notwithstanding the disguise. He, therefore, gave up the attempt, and should, in future, he said, employ his

valet, the Italian Jocoso, in making inquiries respecting the lady; for, he added, he would not be driven from any pursuit he might undertake, however willing he might be to be coaxed out of it.

On supping, as usual, at the Hôtel, a fresh storm, he said, awaited him, and the events of the day were detailed so succinctly, as to leave no doubt that Mademoiselle, in her jealousy, had employed spies. And such was his infatuation and weakness, as the Prelate admitted, that these trifling matters gave him more concern, and vexed his soul more, than all the machinery of the Fronde.

"But there is some portion of this adventure," continued de Retz, "which you may throw light upon. Jocoso accompanied me to the church, and he now assures me that one of the spies was admitted to your apartment this evening.".

This was a rather startling announcement; it took the Secretary by surprise, and he could not help betraying an emotion which did not pass unperceived. He saw that an explanation was necessary, and told de Retz that the man with whom he had the interview was his countryman, whose fidelity he could vouch for, and who had been employed in gathering information respecting de Broussel.

Well, it is strange !" observed the Coadjutor, musing. "I told you the men were not allies, and possibly your pioneer was led into a wrong scent. But let me hear your report. I quite forget the Fronde in these foolish adventures."

Like many others similarly circumstanced, St. Maur did not state how much was owing to his own industry, and how much to the perseverance of his protégé, but took the entire merit to himself, although acknowledging, as he indeed had already done in accounting for the reception of Jules, that he had taken advantage of the services of others.

The information pleased the Coadjutor extremely. He admitted that he knew but little of the private concerns of these families of the Robe, though de Broussel's vanity he had certainly heard of before, and had built some hopes on that foundation, which was the cause of St. Maur's commission. Of Philippe du Tremblay he knew nothing.

"But I am now safe with the President," continued de Retz, "for the pride and poverty of this du Tremblay is a sure card in my hands. What can I offer him? There is nothing better 1 can think of than transferring Beaufort's friend to the Pont de l'Arche, which will be near his own lands, and giving du Tremblay the Bastille ? What think you, St. Maur; would not the old man be pleased to