waiting for him on the stairs. Ten minutes later the curate of St. Sulpice was announced. As soon as the door of Gondy’s study was opened a man rushed in. It was the Count de Rochefort.
“‘Tis you, then, my dear count,” cried Gondy, offering his hand.
“You have made up your mind at last, my lord?” said Rochefort.
“It has been made up a long time,” said Gondy.
“Let us say no more on the subject; you tell me so, I believe you. Well, we are going to give a ball to Mazarin.”
“I hope so.”
“And when will the dance begin?”