tore Broussel."

The good news by this time had spread through the multitude, whose cries
of anger were giving place to shouts of joy. Their arms were hastily
disposed of, and a great throng, thirty or forty thousand in number,
followed the coadjutor to the Palais-Royal. When he entered, Marshal
Meilleraie turned to the queen and said,--

"Madame, here is he to whom I owe my life, and your Majesty the safety
of the Palais-Royal."

The queen's answer was an incredulous smile. On seeing it, the hasty
temper of the marshal broke out in an oath.

"Madame," he said, hotly, "no proper man can venture to flatter you in
the state in which things are; and if you do not this very day set
Broussel at liberty, to-morrow there will not be left one stone upon
another in Paris."

Anne of Austria, carried away by her pride and superciliousness, could
not be brought to believe that the populace would dare attempt an actual
revolt against the king. De Retz would have spoken in support of the
marshal's words, but she cut him short, saying in a tone of mockery,--

"Go and rest yourself, sir; you have worked very hard."

He left the palace in a rage. It was increased when word was brought to
him that he had been ridiculed at the supper-table of the queen. She had
gone so far as to blame him for increasing the tumult, and threatened to
make an example of him and to interdict the Parliament. In short, the
exercise of power had made the woman mad. De Retz reflected. If the
queen designed to punish him, she should have something to punish him
for. He was not the man to be made a cat's-paw of.

"We are not in such bad case as you suppose, gentlemen," he said to his
friends. "There is an intention of crushing the public; it is for me to
defend it from oppression; to-morrow before mid-day I shall be master of
Paris."

Anne of Austria had made an enemy of one who had been her strong friend,
a bold and restless man, capable of great deeds. He had long taken pains
to make himself popular in Paris. During that night he and his
emissaries worked in secret upon the people. Early the next day the mob
was out again, arms in hand, and ripe for mischief. The chancellor, on
his way to the Palace of Justice, suddenly found his carriage surrounded
by these rioters. He hastily sought refuge in the Hotel de Luynes. The
mob followed him, pillaging as they went, destroying the furniture,
seeking the fugitive. He had taken refuge in a small chamber, where