My Sword's My Fortune Part 61

At the beginning of the new year, 1653, my leg was so much stronger that I was able to go out, and every day I walked a little distance in the streets, accompanied by Pillot. I could not ride as yet, but even that I was able to manage by the time Mazarin returned to Paris.

Yes, the great struggle was over, and, as I had foreseen in the beginning, the _Frondeurs_ had been smitten hip and thigh. Conde, overshadowed by the genius of Turenne, was a fugitive; Gaston of Orleans, who ever blew hot and cold in one breath, had left the capital in disgrace; the parliament men had been brought to their knees; and that st.u.r.dy rogue, De Retz, having lost all his power, was openly arrested and imprisoned at Vincennes.

But the crowning triumph was the return, on 2nd February, of my early patron to the city which had hounded him out with hoots and jeers and savage threats of death. The streets were gaily decorated, and the citizens, apparently all of one mind, held high holiday in favour of the recalled exile.

I listened in vain for the ribald songs, the biting jests, the terrible threats and vows of vengeance; in their stead I heard praises of the Queen-Mother; openly expressed admiration of the youthful monarch, who has, since then, advanced his country to the highest pinnacle of fame; and words of good-will towards the wily Italian, who, whatever his defects, had toiled hard and successfully for France.

"The people are like dolls that jump when the showman pulls the strings," remarked Pillot, as we made our way through the throng.

But if the common people bawled themselves hoa.r.s.e in welcoming the man they had more than once threatened to murder, the higher cla.s.ses tripped each other up in their eagerness to render him homage. Louis himself rode in state six miles from the city to greet him, and the proudest n.o.bles in the land were glad to appear in the Cardinal's train. The Royal Guard was mounted at the gate in his honour, and thousands welcomed, with joyful shouts, the Italian priest who had returned to govern their country as a master.

The _Black Mantles_ and the clergy, the cadets of ill.u.s.trious houses, the inferior n.o.bles, and those who had raised themselves within an ace of princely rank, nay, even princes of the blood royal, bent the knee to this man against whom all France had pitted itself in vain! The triumph, indeed, was such as falls to the lot of few men, and it must be said that Mazarin bore his honours well. Many enemies who had insulted or injured him were in his power, but he took no vengeance, bidding them live at peace and devote their talents to the advancement of their country.

For my own part I had no cause to complain. On the very day after his arrival he sent for me to attend him in his apartments at the Louvre.

"Well, De Lalande," said he smiling, "so we are back in our old quarters! Have you recovered from your accident?"

"Yes, my Lord, I thank you."

"You are not looking well; you must go away for a change! Let me see, did we not have a talk once about a place called Vancey?"

"That was my father's estate, my Lord."

"Ah, and then it pa.s.sed into the hands of Baron Maubranne? Your father, if I remember rightly, offended Cardinal Richelieu? Strange, that the father should anger one cardinal and the son gain the goodwill of another! Now, listen to me, De Lalande. Go home and rest, and tell your parents that the t.i.tle-deeds of Vancey are following you."

"My Lord!" I gasped.

"There are those who call Mazarin a n.i.g.g.ard," said he, still smiling, "but there will be at least one to hold him a good paymaster. You have done your share, De Lalande, and now I will do mine. There, go now; you must be anxious to see your parents. Some day I may need your services again."

I suppose that the story of my adventures really ends with my dismissal from the Cardinal's room, but there are a few matters on which my readers may like a little further information.

I need not dwell on my reception at home; of my father's pride, of my mother's unfeigned joy as she kissed and embraced me; nor is it necessary to add that the Cardinal was as good as his word, and that Vancey has long since been once again in the possession of the De Lalandes. I may, however, say a word or two about those whose acquaintance I made during that stirring period of my life.

Lautrec, of the gorgeous attire, followed the fortunes of Conde and was slain outside Bordeaux. Young Armand d'Arcy clung to the weak Gaston of Orleans and left Paris with the disgraced Duke. He was one of the first to congratulate me on my success, though he would never bow the knee to Mazarin. John Humphreys fought his way to a high rank in the Queen's Guards, and might have gained even further honours, but, in 1660, he returned to England with King Charles, and had his rich estates restored to him.

My old friend, Roland Belloc, had deservedly gained the King's favour, and spent several happy years as the youthful monarch's personal attendant, instructing him in the art of horsemanship and in the use of a soldier's weapons. Afterwards he retired on an ample pension to his country seat, and frequently paid a visit to Vancey, where he was always sure of a cordial welcome.

The unlucky Peleton never left the Bastille. Hara.s.sed by his own difficulties, Conde had forgotten his prisoner, who remained in his cell until released by a merciful death.

As for Pillot, I tried hard to induce him to stay at Vancey, but he could not tear himself from his beloved Paris; so I set aside for him a sum of money on which he was able to live in comfort.

Only one other matter remains to be told, and my readers will readily guess what it is. As soon as the troubles were at an end, I posted down to Aunay, where I was received by the ladies with every mark of pleasure. The old friendship was renewed, and in course of time Marie de Brione accompanied me to Vancey as my wife. Madame Coutance rarely visited Paris again, but spent the rest of her life quietly either on her own estate or with her niece at Vancey.