As soon as it was light the innkeeper, still looking white and scared, prepared some breakfast, and afterwards ordered our animals to be brought to the door. From the joyful way he pocketed the coin I gave him, it was evident he had not counted on payment, which perhaps explained the surliness of his manners. Might was right in those dark days of the Fronde, and the folk of the strong hand cared little for justice. Pillot, I am sure, thought me crazy, to pay this simple boor in money, when a cut with a whip would, in his opinion, have done just as well. The weather remained beautifully fine, and, until near the capital, our ride was very pleasant. During the last part of the journey, however, my cheerfulness was dashed by the universal signs of desolation and decay. The ground lay bare and unfilled, the fat beeves and sturdy oxen had vanished, to be replaced here and there by a lean scraggy beast or two, all skin and bone; the yards were destitute of ricks, the hovels were deserted or inhabited by diseased and half-starved scarecrows; erstwhile honest villagers, rendered desperate by hunger, prowled in the woods to pounce on any unwary traveller whom chance should deliver into their hands. Pillot saw to his pistols and I loosened my sword, since it was probable we should have occasion for both. One ragged, unkempt fellow did take a shot at us from behind a tree, but, missing his aim, he dashed into the thick wood and was lost to sight. "_Parbleu!_ these peasants need not talk of the wickedness of Paris!" exclaimed my companion, "when a peaceful citizen cannot travel in safety on the king's highway." "Starving men rarely distinguish between right and wrong, and these people have been turned into wild beasts. Robbed and beaten as they are, I don't wonder that they rise against those who oppress them!" "Ah!" cried Pillot with a grin, "it is all the doing of the wicked Cardinal, and these poor people perhaps recognise monsieur as his friend." "I wonder you are not afraid to ride with me," said I, laughing at his impudence. After this trifling adventure we rode warily, keeping a sharp look-out for any further ambush, but perhaps our display of weapons frightened the robbers, as no one interfered with us again until we arrived at the gate of St. Denis just before it closed for the night. Here I parted with Pillot, who had to make his report to my cousin Henri. "Till our next merry meeting, monsieur!" cried he heartily. "By that time I hope we shall both be on the same side. Mazarin is gone for good, and you cannot do better than join us--we play the winning game." The rascal bowed low and rode off, while I turned towards the city. CHAPTER XI. A Scheme that Went Amiss