han this." [298]

As she learnt each successive arrival at Court, the unfortunate Princess
trusted from day to day that her position would be ameliorated through
the influence of some of her former friends; but until the Duc de Rohan
reached the capital none of the great nobles appeared to remember her
existence. Well might the Duke exclaim when he learnt how utterly
friendless she had become in her adversity, "There are few generous and
bold enough to cleave to the misfortunes of those whom they honoured in
their prosperity." [299] He was himself, however, one of those noble
exceptions; and although he excited the undisguised displeasure of De
Luynes, he persisted in demanding the royal sanction to pay his respects
to the Queen-mother; an example which was subsequently followed by
Bassompierre, who, being unable to obtain the permission which he
sought, availed himself of the medium of the Queen's tailor to offer his
assurances of devotion and fidelity to her person, through the Duchesse
de Guise and the Princesse de Conti.[300]

Weary of her utter isolation in a palace of which she had so lately been
the undisputed mistress, and where she had received the homage of all by
whom she was approached; heart-sick and disgusted with the ingratitude
of those whose fortunes had been her own work; and pining for that rest
which she could never hope to find amid the persecutions to which she
was daily subjected, Marie de Medicis at length resolved to retire to
Moulins in the province of Bourbon, which was one of her dower-cities;
and she accordingly sent to request the consent of the King to her
departure.

This was precisely what De Luynes had hoped; and his exultation was
consequently great. Her exile by the command of her son might have
excited a murmur, and he had therefore forborne from advising such a
step; but when it could be publicly asserted that the Queen-mother was
about to leave the Court for a few months by her own express desire, not
even those who still remained faithful to her cause would be enabled to
resent her absence. Her demand under such circumstances could not fail
to prove successful; and it was conceded by Louis himself with the
greater alacrity that her presence as a prisoner in the Louvre was
irksome and painful to a youth whose conscience was not yet totally
seared; and who professed, even while exposing her from hour to hour to
the insults of his hirelings, to feel towards her "all the sentiments