himself a King, and
the hand with which he grasped his sceptre was steeped in blood. Louis
"the Just"--we append to his baptismal appellation that which was
gravely conferred upon him on this occasion by both clergy and
laity--stood an undisguised assassin and a moral matricide before the
people who were about to be subjected to his rule.[283]

Within an hour not only was the Queen-mother a prisoner in her own
apartments, but the seals were restored to M. du Vair, and Barbin was in
the Bastille _in the most rigorous confinement_.[284] These
precautionary measures taken, Louis proceeded to the grand gallery
leaning upon the arm of De Luynes; and on perceiving M. de Brienne, who
with many other nobles had hastened to present his respects and
congratulations (!) to the young monarch, he was so little able to
control his delight that, without awaiting the salutation of the Count,
he exclaimed triumphantly, "I am now a King, and no one can take
precedence of me." [285]

Shortly afterwards the King encountered the Bishop of Lucon-Richelieu,
whose confident deportment betokened his conviction of a gracious
reception, as he prepared to pay his court in his turn; but the
compliments of the prelate were abruptly broken in upon by an imperative
command to quit the palace, and the announcement of his discontinuance
in office. No wonder that Richelieu murmured under his breath at this
unlooked-for severity; for he had in truth that very morning striven to
merit the royal smile--striven against conscience, however, and all the
holiest and most sacred feelings of humanity. One of the friends of
Concini, alarmed by the ominous proceedings at the Louvre, and
instinctively persuaded that the life of the Italian was threatened, had
hurriedly despatched a letter to Richelieu, in which he stated his
reasons for the apprehensions he expressed; and urged the prelate, in
memory of the many services for which he was indebted to the intended
victim, to interpose his influence in his behalf, and to endeavour to
avert the blow. The Bishop, who had not yet left his bed, glanced over
the missive, thrust it beneath his pillow, desired the messenger to
withdraw, and remained quietly in his chamber until he was apprised by
the tumult without that all was over. Then, and not till then, he
hastened to the Louvre; where we have already stated the nature of his
reception.

As the throng of nobles increased, and crowded about the King so as
considerabl