iking for the Cardinal, it seemed to me
that the country was safer in his hands than it would be in the hands
of those opposed to him.

De Retz, a noisy brawler, stirred up the mob in his own interests;
Gaston of Orleans, unstable as water, was a mere shuttle-cock tossed to
and fro by any strong man who chose to make use of him; Conde, though a
brave and skilful general, already grasped more power than a subject
should possess. Between them they had turned Paris into a hot-bed of
rebellion and discontent.

I was musing over these things one evening when a horseman came at
walking pace into the courtyard of the chateau. The animal appeared
tired out, and the man himself was covered with dust and dirt.

"A special messenger from Paris," I muttered, and, going forward,
recognised Pillot, whom I had treated so scurvily at the inn.

The little man displayed no malice, but his eyes twinkled as he slipped
from the back of his exhausted horse.

"You have ridden fast," I remarked, and, calling a servant, ordered him
to give the animal a good feed and a rub down.

"Thanks, monsieur, he deserves it. A plague on these troublesome
journeys. Why do people live outside Paris, I wonder?"

Laughing at the question, I inquired if he had come to see me.

"No, monsieur; this is an unexpected pleasure," and he showed his teeth
in a broad grin. "I have brought a letter certainly, but this time
there can be no mistake, as it is for a lady."

"If it is for Madame Coutance, you had better come to the house."

Madame had just returned from riding with Marie, but she at once
received the messenger, and then sent him to obtain some much-needed
refreshment. Breaking the seal, she read the letter hurriedly, with
flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.

"It is from Henri!" she exclaimed, excitedly, "and contains startling
news. The old fox is beaten at last! De Retz has declared for Conde,
who will soon take the reins into his own hands."

"Is Gaston left out in the cold?"

"_Pouf!_ Henri doesn't even mention him; he is only a puppet."

"But he has a strong party!"

"Young scatter-brains like Raoul Beauchamp and Armand d'Arcy! Nice
boys, but nothing more. Marie, we must go to the court to congratulate
the Queen on her freedom."

"Or rather on her change of masters!" laughed the girl.

Later in the evening I went to find Pillot. Having eaten and drunk
well, Henri's messenger was in a good temper, and willing to inform me
of