"Mazarin is like a wild boar," said he, "with a pack of hounds baying round him. There is the Duke of Orleans, the king's uncle, who snaps and runs away; Conde is waiting to get a good bite; while the priest, De Retz, is the most mischievous of all." "It is almost as bad as war," said my father. "It is war, and nothing else. But," with a laugh, "the green scarf of Mazarin will be uppermost at the finish. What do you say, Albert? Are you willing to don the Cardinal's colours?" "I know little of these things, monsieur, but my sympathies are for the Queen-Mother." "Of course they are!" cried he, giving me a resounding slap on the back; "so are mine, but Anne of Austria would never hold her own without the Cardinal. Come, De Lalande, let the youngster go. You will not regret it, I promise. He may not get Vancey back, but there are other estates to be won by a strong arm. Shake yourself, boy, and come out into the daylight. You are moping here like a barn-owl." "The simile is good, Roland, for he lives in a barn. If I thought----" "If you thought! Why, man, there is no thinking in it; the thing is as plain as the Castle yonder from the bridge over the river. He is a strapping lad, and knows how to handle a sword I'll warrant. Eh, Albert? What will he do here? Take root and grow into a turnip as likely as not. Pah! I have no patience with you stay-at-home folks. Look at his cousin Henri!" "Henri is two years older." "Ay, he has the advantage there, but Albert's as well grown, and better. Henri is a young scamp, too, I admit, but he is making a name already. He is hand in glove with De Retz." "Albert belongs to the elder branch of the family," said my mother stiffly, and the soldier was going to make answer but thought better of it. "It is kind of you to show such interest in the lad," remarked my father presently, "and we will consider the matter." "As you please, old friend. Follow your own judgment, but should he take it into his head to wear the green scarf, let him inquire at the Palais Royal for Roland Belloc." That night, after our guest rode away, I lay awake a long time thinking over his words. The prospect held out by him seemed to be an answer to my dreams. For many years now the fortunes of the elder branch of the De Lalande family had sunk lower and lower. My grandfather had been stripped of vast estates because he would not change his opinions to suit the times, and my father had been, as most folks thought it, equally foolish. Unhappily, he never by any chance espoused the winning side. His house was a "Camp of Refuge" for broken men of every party, who never sued for relief in vain. The poor and infirm, the blind, the halt, and the maimed, for twenty miles around, were his family, and he never wearied of giving, till, of all our original possessions, one poor farm and homestead alone remained.