Monsieur le Comte's lackey.

It will be a clever trick.

Mazarin will pay as many as ten thousand livres for that paper.

That fat fool of a Gaston, to conspire at his age! Bah; what a muddled ass I was, in faith! I, to sign my name in writing to a cabal! Only the devil knows what yonder old fool will do with the paper.

Let him become frightened, let that painted play-woman coddle him; and it's the block for us all, all save Gaston and Conde and Beaufort.