This strange sight dazzled his worn eyes; he closed them and fell asleep on his horse.
Presently, he felt himself stopped, but he was numbed with cold and could not move.

He saw peasants, lights, a house, a great room into which they carried him, a wide bed, whose heavy curtains were closed by Grandchamp; and he fell asleep again, stunned by the fever that whirred in his ears.
Dreams that followed one another more rapidly than grains of sand before the wind rushed through his brain; he could not catch them, and moved restlessly on his bed.

Urbain Grandier on the rack, his mother in tears, his tutor armed, Bassompierre loaded with chains, passed before him, making signs of farewell; at last, as he slept, he instinctively put his hand to his head to stay the passing dream, which then seemed to unfold itself before his eyes like pictures in shifting sands.
He saw a public square crowded with a foreign people, a northern people, who uttered cries of joy, but they were savage cries; there was a line of guards, ferocious soldiers--these were Frenchmen.

"Come with me," said the soft voice of Marie de Gonzaga, who took his hand.

"See, I wear a diadem; here is thy throne, come with me." And she hurried him on, the people still shouting.