We took him to St. Denis with many another gallant cavalier who had ridden out joyously to the fight with the cry of "For the King!" on his lips. The monks buried him in a plot of consecrated ground without the monastery walls, and Turenne, who recognised his worth, attended the funeral. Stalwart John Humphreys, who had been chosen to guard the young King, was there also. He had loved the dead man dearly, and though he could say nothing to lessen my bitter grief, yet somehow his presence comforted me. The next day I despatched Pillot with the star and a letter to Aunay, paid a farewell visit to Raoul's grave, and before the sun had gained his full power was riding sword in hand at Turenne's side. For in warfare action alone must be the solace for one's private griefs. CHAPTER XXIX. Mazarin Triumphant. Of my life during the next few months there is little to tell, beyond the ordinary perils of a soldier's career. I carried the green scarf of Mazarin into several desperate battles, and stained my sword at the taking of more than one hostile town. I marched and fought, was wounded and got well again, was complimented by Turenne and rewarded by the Queen-Regent. In fine, I figured as a successful soldier as far as my youth permitted. Fortune favoured me, as the jade often does those who care nothing for her frowns or smiles, and in the affair at Brie Comte Robert, when the Court was once more in danger, I distinguished myself sufficiently to be thanked by our youthful monarch in person. But the praises and rewards showered upon me were not honestly earned, for my deeds were due to recklessness rather than to true bravery. Day and night I was ready to take my life in my hands, and I lived in a whirl of excitement. I made no new friends, though many dashing spirits offered me comradeship. My heart was still sore for the loss of Raoul, and except for Pillot and the sturdy Englishman, John Humphreys, I went my way alone. While at Pontoise I saw much of Humphreys, who, in his bluff hearty way, did a good deal to cheer me. He talked freely of Raoul, and I liked to listen to his praises of my dead friend. However, the fortune of war was soon to cut me adrift from him. Things were going very badly for us just at that time, and Turenne could barely hold his own. The Duke of Lorraine had returned to help Conde, and the Spanish general, Fuensaldana, was hurrying with a strong army to the Duke's side. "The Cardinal has played a clever game," remarked Pillot, one evening, "but he has lost now. I heard it whispered this afternoon that he is likely to take another journey." "The Queen will not desert him," said I. "She cannot help herself, monsieur. Even her strongest friends are clamouring for the Cardinal's dismissal." The next day I found that Pillot was right, and it was from Humphreys I heard it.