The Cardinal did not arrive until Friday, and when, after he had concluded his business with the King and returned to Condé, Du Bois went to Bouthillier, fully expecting to find the precious document awaiting him, he was told that so many pressing affairs had had to be discussed that there had been no time to deal with that of his master’s liberty, but that the marshal might be assured that it would be decided on the earliest possible opportunity. And he suggested that, if Du Bois wished, he should go to Paris and return a few days later, when very probably the order of release would be ready for him. “On the Saturday,” writes Bassompierre, “_Monsieur le Comte_ sent me word that he had learned on very good authority that my liberty was resolved upon, and that in twenty-four hours I should be released without fail. But on the Monday I saw Du Bois, who made me understand that it was pure deceit; and, although the First President sent to tell me the same day that I should go out before the end of the week, I did not in the least believe that I should be set at liberty.” However, assurances of his approaching liberty were not wanting. First, the younger Bouthillier told Madame de Beuvron that the delay in setting her uncle at liberty was due solely to the suspicious conduct of _Monsieur_, of whom apparently the marshal was regarded as so devoted an adherent that it would be imprudent to give him his freedom until the King could feel sure that his brother had no intention of causing further trouble. Then, towards the end of June, Du Tremblay came to inform Bassompierre that he was charged by the Bouthilliers, _père et fils_, that he might never regard them again as honest men if he were still a prisoner in a fortnight’s time. Finally, a week later the son wrote that the Cardinal had given him his word that the marshal was to be set at liberty, and had authorised him to tell him so. And so the miserable game went on month after month, year after year, the Cardinal gratifying his malignity by wantonly sporting with the hopes of his hapless prisoner, who was continually receiving the most confident assurances that his freedom was at hand, only to discover that they were worthless. It is indeed astonishing that so great a man should have descended to such paltry exhibitions of spite, and have persuaded, not only his colleagues in the Ministry, but his sovereign as well, to lend themselves to them. But Richelieu was a strange character, and combined in a singular degree qualities worthy of the most profound admiration with others which can provoke nothing but contempt.