The Duchesse de Longueville, supported by her brother, the great Condé, took possession of the executive government at the Hôtel de Ville. She was quickly joined by the Duchesses de Chevreuse and de Montbazon. The Duc de Beaufort was set at liberty. But as it was quite a "Ladies' War," he acted only as subordinate. The Duchesses distributed all the military posts and honours among themselves—they created themselves generals, lieutenants, and colonels, like so many Bellonas. War was waged on quite new principles: Maréchal d'Hocquincourt, defending Peronne for the Queen-Regent, assured the Duchesse de Montbazon, who invested it for the Fronde, "That Peronne was at the service of the fairest of the fair." [Illustration: DUCHESSE DE LONGUEVILLE.] Not so _la Grande Mademoiselle_. She ranged herself on the popular side against the Court, and commanded at the Bastille. She fought in good earnest, and pointed the well-loaded guns of that fortress against her King and cousin, who, with his army, lay encamped without the walls of Paris. Louis retreated precipitately to Saint-Denis. We are in the Hôtel de Ville, within the apartment of one of the very prettiest aides-de-camp attached to the Duchesse de Longueville. This fair lady, Mademoiselle de Rosny, has just finished a most elaborate toilette, and having arranged the innumerable little curls (then so much in vogue) round her face, and fastened the proper quantity of ribbon in her dark locks, takes a last fond look in the glass, and then seats herself in the happiest possible state of expectation. Now there is a certain all-conquering beau—Monsieur d'Aumale by name—who has more than half achieved the conquest of her heart; and she has a kind of presentiment that the morning will not pass without a visit from this pearl of cavaliers. Nor is she mistaken: a soft knock at her door announces the approach of some one. How her heart beats! It must be M. d'Aumale! So she says "_Entrez!_" in a trembling voice, and D'Aumale stands before her. "Mademoiselle de Rosny," he exclaims, "I am in the utmost haste, I am come to beg you to be present at the most singular spectacle you ever beheld!" "What may it be?" replies she, rather chagrined that instead of a tender love-scene, such as she anticipated, M. d'Aumale seems so preoccupied. "It is but a review, mademoiselle, ordered by the council; but, ha! ha! such a review! _Morbleu_, you will never guess of whom—the oddest idea! It is no other than a review of priests, monks, and seminarists, all sword in hand, and ready to charge the enemy. It is the strangest idea of defence that ever was conceived; but as we have lady-generals, and the _Grande Mademoiselle_ for commander-in-chief, we are now to have an army of priests for them to lead to battle. Those tonsured recruits are actually now all assembling on the bridge near Notre-Dame. You must be quick."