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 the most recent events.

"It is time to make a fresh move, monsieur," he said mockingly. "With so many brave Frenchmen to lead us we have no need of a beggarly foreigner. The first step was to join our forces, which made us so strong that Mazarin fled. By now, no doubt, Conde is out of prison."

"Then you are all friends together! How long will that last?"

"How long, monsieur? What a question!"

"Till you come to divide the spoils, I suppose?"

Pillot's eyes twinkled, and he answered roguishly, "Monsieur has learned the ways of the world. It is true thieves often quarrel over their booty, but on the other hand they do not share it with their victim's friends."

"What does that mean?"

"Simply that Paris at present is not a suitable place for a _Mazarin_.

While dogs are growling over a bone, they are apt to snap at a pa.s.ser-by."

"One should wait till they have turned to fighting among themselves," I remarked.

"If one has the patience, monsieur!"

"Oh, the quarrel soon begins. In less than a month's time you will be flying at each other's throats, and Mazarin will return with more power than ever."

"You are mistaken there, monsieur. Whatever else happens, we have finished with the Italian. Were he to set foot in Paris again, the people would tear him limb from limb."

"I suppose De Retz pays you well for your services?"

"I have little to do with the Abbe now," he said. "I am in the service of monsieur's cousin, and a man could have no better master."

That night when the household had retired to rest, I sat at my bedroom window looking out over the park. It was a beautiful scene; everything was hushed and still, and the quiet earth lay bathed in silvery moonlight. Pillot's talk had set me thinking. My wound had completely healed, and I felt strong enough to take a further part in the struggle. The situation was, however, puzzling. Mazarin's downfall had left me without a patron, and I could not join his enemies, most of whom, utterly and heartlessly selfish, cared for nothing but their own welfare. Their senseless squabbles were dragging France through the mire, and I longed to see my country strong and powerful.

From the dwarf's remarks I gathered that Conde intended going to Paris as the Queen's friend, but this could be nothing more than play-acting of the flimsiest character. It was as if a housebreaker took it upon himself to protect the building he had just robbed.

Reflecting calmly on these matters, I saw my duty plain. The Lady Anne was the natural guardian of the young King, and she required the aid of every honest Frenchman till her son became of an age to rule for himself. Reasoning thus, I resolved to set out straightway for Paris, and, having made up my mind, I closed the window and went to bed.

As soon as Madame Coutance heard of my intention she urged me to stay longer, but the look of relief in her eyes showed she was really pleased at my resolve. The country wearied her; she was eager to return to the old life, and after my departure there would be no necessity for her to remain at Aunay.

"We must make the most of Albert to-day, _ma chere_," she exclaimed brightly. "The house will be positively gloomy without him."

"When do you start?" asked Marie.

"To-morrow at day-break. I am strong enough now to use a sword, and the Queen-Mother has not too many friends around her."

Marie sighed. "I am tired of a contest in which selfishness plays so large a part," she remarked.

"Yet it is distinctly droll," observed her aunt. "For example, here is Albert, anxious to serve the Queen, while his cousin does his best for De Retz. On the other hand I wish to help the prince, while our friend Raoul takes orders from the King's uncle. Oh, it is a charming play!"

"Meanwhile the people die of starvation!" said Marie.

"That is unfortunate, certainly. But what would you? There must always be some to suffer."

"It is the people now; it will be the turn of the n.o.bles later. The peasants won't always stand being ground down and starved," I said.

"Chut! my dear Albert, you talk like a carter. What have the people to do with us beyond cultivating our land? You should join De Retz, who intends doing so much for the _canaille_ in the future."

"The very distant future," I said drily, and she laughed.

Personally she cared no more for the people than for the oxen on her estate, and said so openly.

During the afternoon I went for a turn in the park with Marie, when, strolling as far as the rivulet, we sat for a while on its bank. It was good to drink in the calm beauty of this scene, so utterly different from any Paris could offer; and the memory of it returned to me long afterwards, when, faint with hunger, and weary with fighting, I lay amid the dead and dying on a stricken battle-field. In the lengthening shadows we returned to the house, little dreaming what strange events would happen before we next wandered together in the park at Aunay.

It was not a cheerful evening, though madame laughed and said many smart things, in her brilliant way, to raise our spirits. At length she rose to retire to her own room.

"I will not say 'good-bye,'" she exclaimed saucily, "as we are certain to meet again. If you act on my advice it will be in the palace of Conde. The prince loves a lad of mettle."

"Albert must consult his own honour," said Marie.

"And ruin his prospects for an empty whim! Don't listen to her, Albert, and above all things, don't let Mazarin drag you down. Keep constantly in your mind that he has had his day, and will never return to power. Last of all, remember you are always welcome in the Rue Crillon, whether fortune treat you well or ill."

When they had gone I sent for Pillot, who was still in the house. Food and rest had performed wonders for the little man, who looked as jaunty and self-possessed as ever.

"Has your horse recovered?" I asked.

"Perfectly, monsieur."

"I am starting for the capital at day-break. If you care to ride with me, I shall be glad of your company."

"Monsieur honours me!" said he, making a bow.

"Then tell the servants to prepare you an early breakfast, and join me in the courtyard at seven."

"I shall be there, monsieur," and the rascal tripped off smiling, while I, taking a candle, went to bed, hoping to obtain a good night's rest.

It was a glorious morning when we left Aunay, and etienne, an old retainer on the estate, came to the gate to wish us G.o.d-speed.

"Give my respects to your mistress and to Mademoiselle de Brione," I said as we rode away.

The air was fresh and cool; dew-drops gemmed the earth's green carpet, and hung like pendants of brilliants from the leaves of the trees; hundreds of songsters poured forth delicious hymns of praise to the opening day; the rising sun tinted the distant peaks with purple and gold; the whole earth seemed like fairy-land.

Shaking his handsome mane, my horse, of his own accord, broke into a canter, while I, almost involuntarily, trolled forth a well-known hunting song.

Pillot, who rode at my side, was a merry companion, full of quips, and jests, and odd conceits, which lightened the tedium of the journey.

The fellow was undoubtedly a rogue of the first water, but he possessed many amiable traits, and had a fine sense of humour.

Not being in a particular hurry, and still feeling the effects of my recent illness, I resolved to stay for the night at Aviers, a village about thirty miles from Aunay. The inn was dirty, the accommodation meagre, and the landlord a surly boor, who behaved as if we had done him a grievous injury by stopping at his house. After providing a feed for the horses, his resources appeared to be exhausted, and, but for Pillot, I should doubtless have gone to bed without supper. He, however, had a keen appet.i.te, and meant to satisfy it.

"Stay here, monsieur," said he, cheerfully; "if there is anything eatable in the place we will soon have it on the table. _Peste!_ things are coming to a fine pa.s.s when a gentleman cannot be served with food at an inn!"

He skipped away, and I heard him storming at our host in a high-pitched voice, threatening all manner of penalties unless supper was immediately forthcoming. Precisely what arguments he used I cannot say, but presently he returned in triumph with the surly innkeeper, carrying bread, b.u.t.ter, cheese, poached eggs, and a bottle of wine.