"It is from Henri!" she exclaimed, excitedly, "and contains startling news. The old fox is beaten at last! De Retz has declared for Conde, who will soon take the reins into his own hands." "Is Gaston left out in the cold?" "_Pouf!_ Henri doesn't even mention him; he is only a puppet." "But he has a strong party!" "Young scatter-brains like Raoul Beauchamp and Armand d'Arcy! Nice boys, but nothing more. Marie, we must go to the court to congratulate the Queen on her freedom." "Or rather on her change of masters!" laughed the girl. Later in the evening I went to find Pillot. Having eaten and drunk well, Henri's messenger was in a good temper, and willing to inform me of the most recent events. "It is time to make a fresh move, monsieur," he said mockingly. "With so many brave Frenchmen to lead us we have no need of a beggarly foreigner. The first step was to join our forces, which made us so strong that Mazarin fled. By now, no doubt, Conde is out of prison." "Then you are all friends together! How long will that last?" "How long, monsieur? What a question!" "Till you come to divide the spoils, I suppose?" Pillot's eyes twinkled, and he answered roguishly, "Monsieur has learned the ways of the world. It is true thieves often quarrel over their booty, but on the other hand they do not share it with their victim's friends." "What does that mean?" "Simply that Paris at present is not a suitable place for a _Mazarin_. While dogs are growling over a bone, they are apt to snap at a passer-by." "One should wait till they have turned to fighting among themselves," I remarked. "If one has the patience, monsieur!" "Oh, the quarrel soon begins. In less than a month's time you will be flying at each other's throats, and Mazarin will return with more power than ever." "You are mistaken there, monsieur. Whatever else happens, we have finished with the Italian. Were he to set foot in Paris again, the people would tear him limb from limb." "I suppose De Retz pays you well for your services?" "I have little to do with the Abbe now," he said. "I am in the service of monsieur's cousin, and a man could have no better master." That night when the household had retired to rest, I sat at my bedroom window looking out over the park. It was a beautiful scene; everything was hushed and still, and the quiet earth lay bathed in silvery moonlight. Pillot's talk had set me thinking. My wound had completely healed, and I felt strong enough to take a further part in the struggle. The situation was, however, puzzling. Mazarin's downfall had left me without a patron, and I could not join his enemies, most of whom, utterly and heartlessly selfish, cared for nothing but their own welfare. Their senseless squabbles were dragging France through the mire, and I longed to see my country strong and powerful.