A TERRIBLE VISION

The cardinal leaned his elbow on his manuscript, his cheek upon his hand, and looked intently at the young man for a moment. No one had a more searching eye than the Cardinal de Richelieu, and D’Artagnan felt this glance run through his veins like a fever.

He however kept a good countenance, holding his hat in his hand and awaiting the good pleasure of his Eminence, without too much assurance, but also without too much humility.

“Monsieur,” said the cardinal, “are you a D’Artagnan from Béarn?”

“Yes, monseigneur,” replied the young man.

“There are several branches of the