As the favour of Richelieu increased, so did the aristocratic opposition to him gather strength. The grandees of the kingdom were indignant that a Minister should presume to govern in the general interest, instead of in their own, and made ready to draw the sword, if need be, against him as they had against Concini and Luynes. Conspiracy and revolt were in the air, and men and women caballed incessantly, “persuaded that the Cardinal was not a dangerous enemy and that they had nothing to fear from him.” For some time past Marie de’ Medici had been anxious for the marriage of her younger son, Gaston, Duc d’Anjou, officially styled _Monsieur_, now in his eighteenth year, a lively, frivolous, dissipated youth, who, when the shades of evening fell, loved nothing better than to escape from the Louvre and scour the streets in search of adventure. Gaston presented a striking contrast to his austere, melancholy, and parsimonious brother, but since his vices were such as the courtiers loved and profited by, he was as popular with them as the King was the reverse; and it was an open secret that the majority of them looked forward with pleasurable anticipation to the not unlikely event of his succession to the throne. The lady whom the Queen-Mother had chosen as a wife for Gaston was Marie de Bourbon, Mlle. de Montpensier, only daughter of the late Duc de Bourbon-Montpensier, a lively and attractive princess and the richest heiress in France. Richelieu, after some hesitation, decided for the match, influenced, it would seem, by the reflection that, if _Monsieur_ were ever so ill-advised as to raise the standard of revolt, there would be no foreign alliance for him to rely upon. Louis XIII expressed his approval, and nothing remained but to obtain the consent of Gaston. And then the trouble began.