Sturdy old Belloc was delighted to have me under his charge, and, as there was no room at Mazarin's residence, he arranged that I should stay at the inn where Pillot had stationed the horses. "And now," he said, "get some breakfast and go straight to bed. I will come over during the evening for a chat. I am curious to learn how you fared in Paris." "The story will surprise you, but I am too tired to tell it now." "Yes," said he, kindly, "you evidently need a long rest." It was strange to get into bed without feeling any cause for alarm. From sheer force of habit I placed my weapons handy, but there was no barricading of the door, or listening for the sound of stealthy footsteps, and almost before my head touched the pillow I was fast asleep. Pillot, whose powers of endurance were marvellous, wakened me early in the evening, and when M. Belloc paid his promised visit, all traces of my recent fatigue had vanished. The old soldier displayed intense interest in my story, especially to those parts relating to the plot against Conde and my cousin's death. "I am sorry for Henri," he said, "he was a bit of a rascal, but a brave fellow for all that, and he stood by the Abbe from the beginning. However, things have altered now, and before six months have passed Mazarin will be in Paris again. Conde will make a stiff fight, but we are bound to win, and if you live your fortune is made." "Unless Mazarin suffers from a lapse of memory," I remarked. "So far his payments have been made mostly in promises, which do little towards keeping a full purse." At this M. Belloc laughed, but he assured me that when the day of reckoning came I should have no cause to complain. CHAPTER XXV. I Miss a Grand Opportunity. For several weeks now I stayed idly at Bruhl, having nothing to do beyond an occasional turn of duty, which was really more a matter of form than of aught else. Underneath the peaceful surface there were, to shrewd observers, signs of a stirring agitation. Couriers came and went by night and day; noblemen of high rank made mysterious visits, stayed a few hours, and then disappeared; a rumour arose that the Cardinal had actually been recalled to Court. It was even said that the order was contained in the letter I had carried from Paris, but on that point I was still in ignorance. By degrees, however, it became plain that the Cardinal had resolved to return and I learned from Belloc that Marshal Hocquincourt was busy raising an army to conduct him across France. No one was more pleased to receive this news than Pillot, who could not live happily without excitement. He uttered no complaint, but I knew he was longing to be back in his loved Paris, from which he had never before been so long absent. To Pillot the walls of the capital bounded the one oasis in a desert world.