mounted squadrons announced that the heavy cavalry were making the same
dispositions. After half an hour of movement the noise ceased, the
torches were extinguished, and all again became calm, but the army was on
foot.

One of the last tents of the camp shone within as a star with flambeaux.
On approaching this little white and transparent pyramid, we might have
distinguished the shadows of two men reflected on the canvas as they
walked to and fro within. Outside several men on horseback were in
attendance; inside were De Thou and Cinq-Mars.

To see the pious and wise De Thou thus up and armed at this hour, you
might have taken him for one of the chiefs of the revolt. But a closer
examination of his serious countenance and mournful expression
immediately showed that he blamed it, and allowed himself to be led into
it and endangered by it from an extraordinary resolution which aided him
to surmount the horror he had of the enterprise itself. From the day
when Henri d'Effiat had opened his heart and confided to him its whole
secret, he had seen clearly that all remonstrance was vain with a young
man so powerfully resolved.

De Thou had even understood what M. de Cinq-Mars had not told him,
and had seen in the secret union of his friend with the Princesse Marie,
one of those ties of love whose mysterious and frequent faults,
voluptuous and involuntary derelictions, could not be too soon purified
by public benediction. He had comprehended that punishment, impossible
to be supported long by a lover, the adored master of that young girl,
and who was condemned daily to appear before her as a stranger, to
receive political disclosures of marriages they were preparing for her.
The day when he received his entire confession, he had done all in his