Nor were the sad associations of the past the Queen's only cause for sorrow. Her grief was still fresh for her dead son, and for her two living ones her mind was full of anxiety. "I am going to England to marry one and to unmarry the other," she had said on leaving Paris. She was revolving schemes in her head for a marriage between the King and a niece of Cardinal Mazarin, whose large dowry, it was thought, would be useful in paying off the army of Cromwell and in settling the discontent which surely must be still lurking in the newly converted country. But more painful thoughts were given to her second son. This young man, whose exploits, together with those of his younger brother, at the battle of the Dunes, had won the admiration of the French against whom they were fighting, and whose fame was so great that his praises were sung in the coffee-houses of distant Constantinople, had so far forgotten his high lineage as to contract an alliance with a young woman of low rank, of no compensating beauty and of somewhat doubtful character. It was small consolation to Henrietta that the lady she was called upon to welcome as Duchess of York was the daughter of Sir Edward Hyde. At first she sternly refused to recognize the marriage, and it was only the entreaties of her two most intimate friends and counsellors, Lord Jermyn and the Abbé Montagu, that induced her to be reconciled to her son and to receive his wife. Perhaps she was also influenced by the knowledge that her eldest son, who at this time was much under the power of Hyde, wished her to show mercy. Still, it was with an aching heart that she saw her gallant young son mated with a woman in every way inferior to him; and her chagrin would not have been decreased could she have looked into the future and seen the two daughters of Anne Hyde sitting, in succession, upon the throne from which they had thrust their father.