"
"What! and Beauvais, too?" exclaimed the Marshal.
"Yes. My plans require it. I have formed a new cabinet, which
will meet to-night at eight. I shall expect you to be present."
The two old men rose. Suddenly, a kindly smile broke through the
austereness of the prelate's countenance, and he thrust out his
hand; the old soldier met it.
"Providence always watches over the innocent," said the prelate,
"else we would have been still at war. Good morning."
The Marshal returned home, thoughtful and taciturn. What would
be the end?
Ten minutes after the Marshal's departure, von Wallenstein and
Mollendorf entered the prelate's breakfast room.
"Good morning, Messieurs," said the churchman, the expression on
his face losing its softness, and the glint of triumph stealing
into his keen eyes. "I am acting on behalf of his Majesty this
morning," presenting a document to each. "Observe them carefully."
He turned and left the room. The archbishop had not only eaten
a breakfast, he had devoured a cabinet.
Count von Wallenstein watched the retreating figure of the
prelate till the door closed behind it; then he smiled at
Mollendorf, who had not the courage to return it, and who stared
at the parchment in his hand as if it were possessed of basilisk
eyes.
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