Queen-mother--Barbin is sent to the
Bastille--The seals are restored to Du Vair--A royal reception--Anguish
of Marie de Medicis--She demands to see the King, and is refused--Her
isolation--A Queen and her favourite--A mother and her son--Arrest of
Madame d'Ancre--The Crown jewels--Political pillage--The Marechale in
the Bastille.

In the month of January the Comte d'Auvergne, who had recently been
liberated from the Bastille, was despatched at the head of fourteen
thousand men against the insurgent Princes; and his departure was made a
pretext for depriving the young King of the gentlemen of his household
and of his bodyguard, an insult which he deeply although silently
resented. He had been attacked in the November of the preceding year by
an indisposition which for a time had threatened the most serious
consequences, and from whose latent effects he had not yet recovered. As
time wore on, moreover, he was becoming more and more weary of the
insignificance to which he was reduced by the delegated authority of his
mother; and had easily suffered himself to be persuaded by De Luynes
that her repeated offers to resign it had merely been designed to make
him feel the necessity of her assistance. As we have already shown,
Louis XIII derived little pleasure from the society of his young and
lovely wife; he made no friends; and thus he was flung entirely into the
power of his wily favourite, who, aware that the King could hate,
although he could not love, was unremitting in his endeavours to excite
him against Marie de Medicis and her favourite. The infatuated Concini
seconded his efforts but too well; for, unable to bear his fortunes
meekly, he paraded his riches and his power with an insolence which
tended to justify the aversion of his enemies. On one occasion, shortly
after the dismemberment of his little Court, the monarch of France
having refused to join a hunting-party organized by the Queen-mother,
found himself entirely deserted save by De Luynes and a single valet;
and overcome by mortification and melancholy, he leant his head upon his
hand and wept bitterly. For some time not a sound was heard in the
Louvre save the soughing of the wind through the tall trees of the
palace-garden, and the measured tread of the sentinels, when suddenly a
tumult arose in the great court; the trampling of horses, the voices of
men, and the clashing of weapons were blent together; and dashing away
his tears, Louis desired his favourit