papers Madame de Chevreuse had just delivered — and burying his head in his hands for a few minutes, reflected profoundly. In the meantime, a tall, loosely-made man entered the room; his spare, thin face, steady look, and hooked nose, as he entered Colbert’s cabinet, with a modest assurance of manner, revealed a character at once supple and decided, — supple towards the master who could throw him the prey, firm towards the dogs who might possibly be disposed to dispute its possession.

M. Vanel carried a voluminous bundle of papers under his arm, and placed it on the desk on which Colbert was leaning both his elbows, as he supported his head.

“Good day, M. Vanel,” said the latter, rousing himself from his meditation.

“Good day, monseigneur,”