The younger members of high families received wages from the great lords,
and were devoted to their service in all things, challenging the first
comer at the wish of their patron. The pages wrote letters from the
outline previously given them by the Cardinal, and after their master had
glanced at them, passed them to the secretaries, who made fair copies.
The Duke, for his part, wrote on his knee private notes upon small slips
of paper, inserting them in almost all the packets before sealing them,
which he did with his own hand.

He had been writing a short time, when, in a mirror before him, he saw
the youngest of his pages writing something on a sheet of paper much
smaller than the official sheet. He hastily wrote a few words, and then
slipped the paper under the large sheet which, much against his
inclination, he had to fill; but, seated behind the Cardinal, he hoped
that the difficulty with which the latter turned would prevent him from
seeing the little manoeuvre he had tried to exercise with much dexterity.
Suddenly Richelieu said to him, dryly, "Come here, Monsieur Olivier."

These words came like a thunder-clap on the poor boy, who seemed about
sixteen. He rose at once, however, and stood before the minister, his
arms hanging at his side and his head lowered.

The other pages and the secretaries stirred no more than soldiers when a
comrade is struck down by a ball, so accustomed were they to this kind of
summons. The present one, however, was more energetic than usual.

"What were you writing?"

"My lord, what your Eminence dictated."