Henrietta was probably not unconscious of the dubious reception which would be afforded to her by her co-religionists, and her advisers were still more alive to the necessity of her making a good impression upon the English Catholics. At first all went well. Those who were unaware of the religious revival which was taking place in France were surprised at the piety of Bérulle (who was one of the leaders of the revival), and at the zeal of the Bishop of Mende,[111] who, with great diplomacy, took care to interest himself in the general affairs of his co-religionists in England. The young Queen herself, who in Paris had not been remarkable for devotion, seemed on entering the heretic country to be dowered with a new piety and zeal. She showed great compassion for her Catholic subjects, and such devotion to her religious duties that she heard Mass every day, even when she was on one of the frequent progresses of the English Court, and on Sundays listened to a sermon and attended Vespers, which was usually enlivened by instrumental music. "Can such good things come out of Galilee?" was the wondering question of the pro-Spanish English Catholic; and if he suspended his ultimate judgment, he at least rejoiced for the time in the edifying conduct of those whose presence was the guarantee of his peace. Even some of the Protestants seemed softened. Henrietta, in her earlier days, before sorrow deepened and hardened her character, was far from a bigot, and indeed the daughter of Henry IV never had in her the true stuff of fanaticism. When just after her marriage some one was rude enough to ask her if she disliked Huguenots, she answered gently, "Why should I? My father was one"; and some of Bérulle's enemies, "the ministers," presuming on such girlish kindliness, boasted that in six months she would be at their preachings. Others, less sanguine, contented themselves with admiring the decorum of the services to which curiosity led them, and with praising the outward regularity of the lives of the Oratorian Fathers. Thus the Catholics had ground for hope, but not for exultation. "These are flowers of hopes," wrote the cautious Bérulle, "but nothing but flowers and, moreover, flowers surrounded by thorns. These are hopes, but they have need of a greater maturity in the Queen and more persevering conduct on the part of France."[112]