/[-A 
 
 4 
 
 \^^ 
 
 LI B R.AR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 Y8s 
 v.l
 
 
 ^ O^^ ^^ 
 
 :?^ 
 
 ^::;^ 
 
 "^2 
 
 x/^^
 
 Digitized by the Internet Arciiive 
 
 in 2010 witii funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/straypearlsmemoi01yong
 
 STEAY PEARLS
 
 STEAY PEAELS 
 
 MEMOIES OF 
 MARGARET DE RIBAUMONT 
 
 VISCOUNTESS OF BELLAISE 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLOTTE M. YONGE 
 
 AUTHOR OF ' HEIR OF BEDCLYFFE,' ' UNKNOWN TO HISTORY,' ETC. 
 
 VOL. L 
 
 HontJon 
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 1883
 
 Printed by R. & R. Clark, Edinburgh,
 
 
 y 
 
 V 
 
 PEE FACE. 
 
 JSTo one can be more aware than the author that the 
 
 construction of this tale is defective. The state of French 
 
 society, and the strange scenes of the Fronde, beguiled me 
 
 into a tale which has become rather a family record than 
 
 a novel. 
 
 Formerly the Muse of the historical romance was an 
 
 independent and arbitrary personage, who could compress 
 
 ^ time, resuscitate the dead, give mighty deeds to imaginary 
 
 "heroes, exchange substitutes for popular martyrs on the 
 
 s scaffold, and make the most stubborn facts subservient to 
 
 her purpose. Indeed, her most favoured son boldly 
 
 ^ asserted her right to bend time and place to her purpose, 
 
 ^nd to make the interest and effectiveness of her work 
 
 the paramount object. But critics have lashed her out 
 
 ;^of these erratic ways, and she is now become the meek 
 
 ^handmaid of Clio, creeping obediently in the track of the 
 VOL. I. a
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 greater Muse, and never venturing on more than colour- 
 ing and working up the grand outlines that her mistress 
 has left undefined. Thus, in the present tale, though it 
 would have been far more convenient not to have spread 
 the story over such a length of time, and to have made 
 the catastrophe depend upon the heroes and heroines, 
 instead of keeping them mere ineffective spectators, or 
 only engaged in imaginary adventures for which a prece- 
 dent can be found, it has been necessary to stretch out 
 their narrative, so as to be at least consistent with the 
 real history, at the entire sacrifice of the plot. And it 
 may be feared that thus the story may partake of the 
 confusion that really reigned over the tangled thread of 
 events. There is no portion of history better illustrated 
 by memoirs of the actors therein than is the Fronde ; but, 
 perhaps, for that very reason none so confusing. 
 
 Perhaps it may be an assistance to the reader to lay 
 out the bare historical outline like a map, showing to 
 what incidents the memoirs of the Sisters of Eibaumont 
 have to conform themselves. 
 
 When Henry IV. succeeded in obtaining the throne 
 of France, he found the feudal nobility depressed by the 
 long civil war, and his exchequer exhausted. He and
 
 PREFACE. Til 
 
 his minister Sully returned to the pohcy of Louis XI., by 
 which the nobles were to be kept down and prevented 
 from threatening the royal power. This was seldom 
 done by violence, but by giving them employment in the 
 Army and Court, attaching them to the person of the 
 King, and giving them offices with pensions attached to 
 them. 
 
 The whole cost of these pensions and all the other 
 expenses of Government fell on the townspeople and 
 peasantry, since the clergy and the nobles to all genera- 
 tions were exempt from taxation. The trade and all the 
 resources of the country were taking such a spring of 
 recovery since the country had been at peace, and the 
 persecution of the Huguenots had ceased, that at first the 
 taxation provoked few murmurs. The resources of the 
 Crown were further augmented by permitting almost all 
 magistrates and persons who held public offices to secure 
 the succession to their sons on the payment of a tariff 
 called la Pcmlette from the magistrate who invented it. 
 
 In the next reign, however, an effort was made to 
 secure greater equality of burthens. On the meeting of 
 the States-General — the only popular assembly possessed 
 by France — Louis XIIL, however, after hearing the com-
 
 viii PREFACE. 
 
 plaints, iind promising to consider tliem, shut the doors 
 against the deputies, made no further answer, and dis- 
 missed them to their houses without the slightest redress. 
 The Assembly was never to meet again till the day of 
 reckoning for all, a hundred and seventy years later. 
 
 Under the mighty hand of Cardinal Eichelieu the 
 nobles were still more effectually crushed, and the great 
 course of foreign war begun, which lasted, with short 
 intervals, for a century. The great man died, and so did 
 his feeble master; and his policy, both at home and 
 abroad, was inherited by his pupil Giulio Mazarini, while 
 the regency for the child, Louis XIV., devolved on his 
 mother, Anne of Austria — a pious and well-meaning, 
 but proud and ignorant, Spanish Princess — who pinned 
 her faith upon Mazarin with helpless and exclusive 
 devotion, believing him the only pilot who could steer 
 her vessel through troublous waters. 
 
 But what France had ill brooked from the high- 
 handed son of her ancient nobility was intolerable from a 
 low-born Italian, of graceful but insinuating manners. 
 Moreover, the war increased the burthens of the country, 
 and, in the minority of the King, a stand was made at last. 
 
 The last semblance of popular institutions existed in
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 the Parliaments of the Provinces, especially that of Paris. 
 The nucleus of this was the old feudal Council of the 
 Counts of Paris, consisting of the temporal and spiritual 
 peers of the original county, who had the right to advise 
 with their chief, and to try the causes concerning them- 
 selves. The immediate vassals of the King had a right 
 to sit there, and were called Pairs de France, in distinction 
 from the other nobles who only had seats in the Parlia- 
 ment in whose province their lands might lie. To these 
 St. Louis, in his anxiety to repress lawlessness, had added 
 a certain inimber of trained lawyers and magistrates; and 
 these were the working members" of these Parliaments, 
 which were in general merely courts of justice for civil 
 and criminal causes. The nobles only attended on occa- 
 sions of unusual interest. Moreover, a law or edict of 
 the King became valid on being registered by a Parlia- 
 ment. It was a moot question whether the Parliament 
 had the power to baffle the King by refusing to register 
 an edict, and Henry IV. had avoided a refusal from the 
 Parliament of Paris, by getting his edict of toleration for 
 the Huguenots registered at j^antes. 
 
 The peculiarly oppressive house-tax, with four more 
 imposts proposed in 1648, gave the Parliament of Paris
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 the opportunity of trying to make an effectual resistance 
 by refusing the registration. They were backed by the 
 municipal government of the city at the Hotel de Ville, 
 and encouraged by the Coadjutor of the infirm old Arch- 
 bishop of Paris, namely, his nephew, Paul de Gondi, 
 titular Bishop of Corinth in ^artihus infidelium, a younger 
 st)n of the Duke of Eetz, an exceedingly clever young 
 man, descended from an Italian family introduced by 
 Catherine de Medici. There seemed to be a hope that 
 the nobility, angered at their own systematic depression, 
 and by Mazarin's ascendency, might make common cause 
 with the Parliament and establish some effectual check 
 to the advances of the Crown. This was the origin of 
 the party called the Fronde, because the speakers launched 
 their speeches at one another as boys fling stones from a 
 sling {fronde) in the streets. 
 
 The Queen-Eegent was enraged through all lier des- 
 potic Spanish haughtiness at such resistance. She tried 
 to step in by the arrest of the foremost membere of the 
 Opposition, but failed, and only provoked violent tumults. 
 The young Prince of Conde, coming home from Germany 
 flushed with victory, liated Mazarin extremely, but his 
 pride as a Prince of tlie P)lood, and liis private animosities,
 
 PKEFACE. XI 
 
 impelled him to take up the cause of the Queen. She 
 conveyed her son secretly from Paris, and the city was in 
 a state of siege for several months. However, the execu- 
 tion of Charles 1. in England alarmed the Queen on the 
 one hand, and the Parliament on the other, as to the con- 
 sequences of a rebellion, provisions began to run short, 
 and a vague hollow peace was made in the March of 
 1649. 
 
 Conde now became intolerably overbearing, insulted 
 every one, and so much offended the Queen and Mazarin 
 that they caused him, his brother, and the Duke of Bouillon, 
 to be arrested and imprisoned at Vincennes. His wife, 
 though a cruelly-neglected woman whom he had never 
 loved, did her utmost to deliver him, repaired to Bordeaux, 
 and gained over the Parliament there, so that she held 
 out four months against the Queen. Turenne, brother to 
 Bouillon, and as great a general as Conde, obtained the 
 aid of the Spaniards, and the Coadjutor prevailed on the 
 King's uncle, Gaston, Duke of Orleans, to represent that 
 the Queen must give way, release the Princes, part with 
 Mazarin, and even promise to convoke the States -General. 
 Anne still, however, corresponded with the Cardinal, and 
 was directed by him in everything. Distrust and dissen- -^
 
 XU PREFACE. 
 
 sion soon broke out, Conde and the Coadjutor quarrelled 
 violently, and the royal promises made to both Princes 
 and ParKament were eluded by the King, at fourteen, 
 being declared to have attained his majority, and thus 
 that all engagements made in his name became 
 void. 
 
 Cond^ went off to Guienne and raised an army; 
 Mazarin returned to the Queen ; Paris shut its gates and 
 declared Mazarin an outlaw. The Coadjutor (now become 
 Cardinal de Eetz) vainly tried to stir up the Duke of 
 Orleans to take a manly part and mediate between the 
 parties ; but being much afraid of his own appanage, the 
 city of Orleans, being occupied by either army, Gaston 
 sent his daughter to take the charge of it, as she effect- 
 ually did — but she was far from neutrality, being deluded 
 by a hope that Conde would divorce his poor faithful 
 wife to marry her. Turenne, on his brother's release, 
 had made his peace with the Court, and commanded the 
 royal army. War and havoc raged outside Paris ; within 
 the partisans of the Princes stirred the populace to en- 
 deavour to intimidate the Parliament and municipality 
 into taking their part. Their chief leader throughout was 
 the Duke of Beaufort, a younger son of the Duke of
 
 PEEFACE. Xlll 
 
 Vendome, the child of Gabrielle d'Estrees. He inherited 
 his grandmother's beauty and his grandfather's charm of 
 manner ; he was the darling of the populace of Paris, and 
 led them, in an aimless sort of way, wherever there was 
 mischief to be done ; and the violence and tumult of 
 this latter Fronde were far worse than those of the 
 first. 
 
 A terrible battle in the Faubourg St. Antoine broke 
 Conde's force, and the remnant was only saved by 
 Mademoiselle's insisting on their being allowed to pass 
 through Paris. After one ungrateful attempt to terrify 
 the magistrates into espousing his cause and standing a 
 siege on his behalf, Conde quitted Paris, and soon after 
 fell ill of a violent fever. 
 
 His party melted away. Mazarin saw that tranquil- 
 lity might be restored if he quitted Prance for a time. 
 The King proclaimed an amnesty, but with considerable 
 exceptions and no relaxation of his power ; and these 
 terms the Parliament, weary of anarchy, and finding the 
 nobles had cared merely for their personal hatreds, not 
 for the public good, were forced to accept. 
 
 Conde, on his recovery, left Prance, and for a time 
 fought against his country in the ranks of the Spaniards.
 
 XIV PREFACE. 
 
 Beaufort died bravely fighting against the Turks at Cyprus. 
 Cardinal de Eetz was imprisoned, and Mademoiselle had 
 to retire from Court, while other less distinguished per- 
 sons had to undergo the punishment for their resistance, 
 though, to the credit of the Court party be it spoken, there 
 were no executions, only imprisonments ; and in after 
 years the Fronde was treated as a brief frenzy, and for- 
 gotten. 
 
 Perhaps it may be well to explain that Mademoiselle 
 was Anne Genevieve de Bourbon, daughter of Gaston, 
 Duke of Orleans, by his first wife, the heiress of the old 
 Bourbon branch of Montpensier. She was the greatest 
 heiress in France, and an exceedingly vain and eccentric 
 person, aged twenty -three at the beginning of the 
 Fronde. 
 
 It only remains to say that I have no definite author- 
 ity for introducing such a character as that of Clement 
 Darpent, but it is well known that there was a strong 
 ■under -current of upright, honest, and highly - cultivated 
 men among the bourgeoisie and magistrates, and that it 
 seemed to me quite possible that in the first Fronde, 
 when the Parliament were endeavouring to make a stand 
 for a just right, and hoping to obtain further freedom, a
 
 PREFACE. XV 
 
 young and educated man might entertain further hopes 
 and schemes, and, acting on higher and purer principles 
 than those around him, be universally misunderstood and 
 suspected. 
 
 C. M. YONGE.
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. 1. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PACE 
 
 Whitehall before the Cobwebs ..... 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 A Little Mutual Aversion . . . . . .10 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Celadon and Chloe .18 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 The Salon Bleu . .28 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 In Garrison ........ 44
 
 XVlll CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 PAOE 
 
 Victory dearly bought . . . . . .57 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 Widow AND Wife . . . . . . .70 
 
 CHAPTER Vm. 
 
 Marguerite to the Rescue ...... 84 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 The Firebrand op the Bocage 96 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Old Threads taken up . . . . . .110 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 The Two Queens ,* , * • 124 
 
 CHAPTER Xn. 
 Cavaliers in Exile » .136
 
 CONTENTS. XIX 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Mademoiselle's Toilette . . . . . .151 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 Court Appointment .... 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 A Strange Thanksgiving Day 179 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 The Barricades 197 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 A Patient Grisel 213 
 
 CHAPTER XVIIL 
 
 236
 
 STEAY PEAELS. 
 
 THE MEMOIES OF MARGAEET DE RIBAUMONT, 
 VISCOUNTESS OF BELLAISE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 WHITEHALL BEFOEE THE COBWEBS. 
 
 I HAVE long promised you, my dear grandchildren, to 
 arrange my recollections of the eventful years that even 
 your father can hardly remember. I shall be glad thus 
 to draw closer the bonds between ourselves and the Eng- 
 lish kindred, whom I love so heartily, though I may never 
 hope to see them again in this world, far less the dear 
 old home where I grew up. 
 
 For, as perhaps you have forgotten, I am an English- 
 woman by birth, having first seen the light at Walwyn 
 House, in Dorsetshire. One brother had preceded me — 
 my dear Eustace — and another brother, Berenger, and 
 my little sister, Annora, followed me. 
 
 Our family had property both in England and in 
 Picardy, and it was while attending to some business 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 STRAY PEAELS. [CHAP. 
 
 connected with the French estate that my father had 
 fallen in love with a beautiful young widow, Madame la 
 Baronne de Solivet {nde Cheverny), and had brought her 
 home, in spite of the opposition of her relations. I can- 
 not tell whether she were warmly welcomed at Walwyn 
 Court by any one but the dear beautiful grandmother, a 
 Frenchwoman herself, who was delighted again to hear 
 her mother tongue, although she had suffered much among 
 the Huguenots in her youth, when her husband was left 
 for dead on the S. Barthelemi. 
 
 He, my grandfather, had long been dead, but I per- 
 fectly remember her. She used to give me a sugar-cake 
 when I said " Bon soir, honne maman" with the right 
 accent, and no one made sugar-cakes like hers. She 
 always wore at her girdle a string of little yellow shells, 
 which she desired to have buried with her. We children 
 were never weary of hearing how they had been the only 
 traces of her or of her daughter that her husband could 
 find, when he came to the ruined city. 
 
 I could fill this book with her stories, but I must not 
 linger over them; and indeed I heard no more after I 
 was eight years old. Until that time my brother and I 
 were left under her charge in the country, while my 
 father and mother were at court. My mother was one 
 of the Ladies of the Bedchamber to Queen Henrietta 
 Maria, who had been enchanted to find in her a country- 
 woman, and of the same faith. I was likewise bred up
 
 I.] WHITEHALL BEFORE THE COBWEBS. 3 
 
 in their Church, my mother having obtained the consent 
 of my father, during a dangerous illness that followed my 
 birth, but the other cliildren were all brought up as 
 Protestants. Indeed, no difference was made between 
 Eustace and me when we were at Walwyn. Our grand- 
 mother taught us both alike to make the sign of the cross, 
 and likewise to say our prayers and the catechism ; and 
 oh ! we loved her very much. 
 
 Eustace once gave two black eyes to our rude cousin, 
 Harry Merricourt, for laughing when he said no one was 
 as beautiful as the grandmother, and though I am an old 
 woman myself, I think he was right. She was like a 
 little fairy, upright and trim, with dark flashing eyes, 
 that never forgot how to laugh, and snowy curls on her 
 brow. 
 
 I believe that the dear old lady made herself ill by 
 nursing us two children day and night when we had the 
 smallpox. She had a stroke, and died before my father 
 could be fetched from London ; but I knew nothing of 
 all that ; I only grieved, and wondered that she did not 
 come to me, till at last the maid who was nursing me told 
 me flatly that the old lady was dead. I think that after- 
 wards we were sent down to a farmer's house by the 
 sea, to be bathed and made rid of the infection; and 
 that the pleasure of being set free from our sick cham- 
 bers and of pla}d.ng on the shore drove from our minds 
 for the time our grief for the good grandam, though
 
 4 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 indeed I dream of her often still, and of the old rooms 
 and gardens at "VValwyn, though I have never seen them 
 since. 
 
 When we were quite well and tolerably free from 
 pock-marks, my father took us to London with him, and 
 there Eustace was sent to school at Westminster; while 
 I, with little Berry, had a tutor to teach us Latin and 
 French, and my mother's waiting-maid instructed me in 
 sewing and embroidery. As I grew older I had masters 
 in dancing and the spinnet, and my mother herself was 
 most careful of my deportment. Likewise she taught me 
 such practices of our religion as I had not learnt from 
 my grandmother, and then it was I found that I was to 
 be brought up differently from Eustace and the others. 
 I cried at first, and declared I would do like Eustace and 
 my father, but no one w^ould listen to me, not even my 
 father. I did not think much about it ; I was too child- 
 ish and thoughtless to be really devout ; and when my 
 mother took me in secret to the queen's little chapel, full 
 of charming objects of devotion, while the others had to 
 sit still during sermons two hours long, I began to think 
 that I was the best off. 
 
 Since that time I have thought much more, and 
 talked the subject over both with my dear eldest brother 
 and with good priests, both English and French, and I 
 have come to the conclusion, as you know, my children, 
 that the English doctrine is no heresy, and that the
 
 L] WHITEHALL BEFORE THE COBWEBS. 5 
 
 Church is a true Church and Catholic, though, as my 
 home and my duties lie here, I remain where I was 
 brought up by my mother, in the communion of my 
 husband and children. I know that this would seem 
 almost heresy to our good Pere Chavand, but I wish to 
 leave my sentiments on record for you, my children. 
 
 But how I have anticipated my history ! I must 
 return, to tell you that when I was just sixteen I was 
 told that I was to go to my first ball at Whitehall. My 
 hair was curled over my forehead, and I was dressed in 
 white satin, with the famous pearls of Eibaumont round 
 my neck, though of course they were not to be mine 
 eventually. 
 
 I knew the palace well, having often had the honour 
 of playing with the Lady Mary, who was some years 
 younger than I, so that I was much less alarmed than 
 many young gentlewomen there making their first appear- 
 ance. But, as my dear brother Eustace led me into the 
 outer hall, close behind my father and mother, I heard a 
 strange whistle, and, looking up, I saw over the balus- 
 trade of the gallery a droll monkey face looking out of a 
 mass of black curls, and making significant grimaces at 
 me. 
 
 I knew well enough that it was no other than the 
 Prince of Wales. He was terribly ugly and fond of 
 teasing, but in a good-natured way, always leaving off 
 when he saw he was giving real pain, and I liked him
 
 6 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 much better than his brother, the Duke of York, who 
 was proud and sullen. Yet one could always trust the 
 Duke, and that could not be said for the Prince. 
 
 By the time we had slowly advanced up the grand 
 staircase into the banqueting -hall, and had made our 
 reverences to the king and queen — ah, how stately and 
 beautiful they looked together ! — the Prince had stepped 
 in some other way, and stood beside me. 
 
 " Well, Meg," he said, in an undertone — " I beg 
 pardon, Mrs. Margaret — decked out in all her splendour, 
 a virgin for the sacrifice !" 
 
 " What sacrifice, sir ? " I asked, startled. 
 
 " Eh !" he said. " You do not know that h futur 
 is arrived ! " 
 
 " She knows nothing, your Highness," said Eustace. 
 
 " What, oh, what is there to know ? " I implored the 
 Prince and my brother in turn to inform me, for I saw 
 that there was some earnest in the Prince's jests, and I 
 knew that the queen and my mother were looking out 
 for a good match for me in France. 
 
 " Let me show him to you," presently whispered the 
 Prince, who had been called off by his father to receive 
 the civilities of an ambassador. Then he pointed out a 
 little wizened dried-up old man, who was hobbling up to 
 kiss Her Majesty's hand, and whose courtly smile seemed 
 to me to sit most unnaturally on his -^iNTinkled counte- 
 nance. I nearly screamed. I was forced to bite my
 
 I.] WHITEHALL BEFORE THE COBWEBS. 7 
 
 lips to keep back my tears, and I wished myself child 
 enough to be able to scream and run away, when my 
 mother presently beckoned me forward. I hardly had 
 strength to curtsey when I was actually presented to the 
 old man. Nothing but terror prevented my sinking 
 on the floor, and I heard as through falling waters 
 something about M. le Marquis de Mdemerle and Mrs. 
 Margaret Eibmont, for so we were called in England. 
 
 By and by I found that I was dancing, I scarcely 
 knew how or with whom, and I durst not look up the 
 whole time, nor did my partner address a single word to 
 me, though I knew he was near me ; I was only too 
 thankful that he did not try to address me. 
 
 To my joy, when we had made our final reverences, 
 he never came near me again all the evening. I found 
 myself among some young maidens who were friends of 
 mine, and in our eager talk together I began to forget 
 what had passed, or to hope it was only some teasing 
 pastime of the Prince and Eustace. 
 
 When we were seated in the coach on the way to our 
 house my father began to laugh and marvel which had 
 been the most shy, the gallant or the lady, telling my 
 mother she need never reproach the English with bash- 
 fulness again after this French specimen. 
 
 " How will he and little Meg ever survive to-morrow's 
 meeting!" he said. 
 
 Then I saw it was too true, and cried out in despair
 
 8 STEAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 to beg them to let me stay at home, and not send me 
 from them ; but my mother bade me not be a silly wench. 
 I had always known that I was to be married in France, 
 and the queen and my half-brother, M. de Solivet, had 
 found an excellent parti for me. I was not to embarrass 
 matters by any folly, but I must do her credit, and not 
 make her regret that she had not sent me to a convent 
 to be educated. 
 
 Then I clung to my father. I could hold him tight 
 in the dark, and the flambeaux only cast in a fitful flicker- 
 ing light. " Oh, sir," said I, " you cannot wish to part 
 with your little Meg !" 
 
 " You are your mother's child, Meg," he said 
 sadly. " I gave you up to her to dispose of at her 
 wm." 
 
 " And you will thank me one of these days for your 
 secure home," said my mother. " If these rogues con- 
 tinue disaffected, who knows what they may leave us in 
 England !" 
 
 " At least we should be together," I cried, and I re- 
 member how I fondled my father's hand in the dark, and 
 how he returned it. We should never have thought of 
 such a thing in the light ; he would have been ashamed 
 to allow such an impertinence, and I to attempt it. 
 
 Perhaps it emboldened me to say timidly : " If he 
 were not so old " 
 
 But my mother declared that she could not believe
 
 I.] WHITEHALL BEFORE THE COBWEBS. 9 
 
 her ears that a child of hers should venture on makinsr 
 such objections — so unmaidenly, so undutiful to a parti 
 selected by the queen and approved by her parents. 
 
 As the coach stopped at our own door I perceived 
 that certain strange noises that I had heard proceeded 
 from Eustace laughing and chuckling to himself all the 
 way. I must say I thought it very unkind and cruel 
 when we had always loved each other so well. I would 
 hardly bid him good -night, but ran up to the room I 
 shared with nurse and Annora, and wept bitterly through 
 half the night, little comforted by nurse's assurance that 
 old men were wont to let their wives have their way far 
 more easily than young ones did.
 
 10 STKAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 CHAPTEE 11. 
 
 A LITTLE MUTUAL AVERSION. 
 
 I HAD cried lialf the night, and when in the morning 
 little Nan wanted to hear about my ball, I only answered 
 that I hated the thought of it. I was going to be 
 married to a hideous old man, and be carried to France, 
 and should never see any of them again. I made Nan 
 cry too, and we both came down to breakfast with such 
 mournful faces that my mother chid me sharply for 
 making myself such a fright. 
 
 Then she took me away to the still-room, and set 
 me for an hour to make orange cakes, while she gave 
 orders for the great dinner that we were to give that 
 day, I knew only too well for whose sake ; and if I had 
 only known which orange cake was for my betrothed, 
 would not it have been a bitter one ! By and by my 
 mother carried me off to be dressed. She never trusted 
 the tiring-woman to put the finishing touches with those 
 clumsy English fingers ; and, besides, she bathed my 
 swollen eyelids with essences, and made me rub my pale
 
 II.] A LITTLE MUTUAL AVERSION. 11 
 
 cheeks with a scarlet ribbon, speaking to me so sharply 
 that I should not have dared to shed another tear. 
 
 When I was ready, all in white, and she, most 
 stately in blue velvet and gold, I followed her down the 
 stairs to the grand parlour, where stood my father, with 
 my brothers and one or two persons in black, who I 
 found were a notary and his clerk, and there was a table 
 before them with papers, parchment, a standish, and pens. 
 I believe if it had been a block, and I had had to lay my 
 head on it, like poor Lady Jane Grey, I could not have 
 been much more frightened. 
 
 There was a sound of wheels, and presently the gentle- 
 man usher came forward, announcing the Most Noble 
 the Marquis de Mdemerle, and the Lord Viscount of 
 Bellaise. My father and brothers went half-way down 
 the stairs to meet them, my mother advanced across the 
 room, holding me in one hand and Annora in the other. 
 We all curtsied low, and as the gentlemen advanced, 
 bowing low, and almost sweeping the ground with the 
 plumes in their hats, we each had to offer them a cheek 
 to salute after the English fashion. The old marquis 
 was talking French so fast that I could not understand 
 him in the least, but somehow a mist suddenly seemed 
 to clear away from before me, and I found that I was 
 standing before that alarming table, not with him, but 
 with something much younger — not much older, indeed, 
 than Eustace.
 
 12 STRAY PEAELS. [CHAP. 
 
 I began to hear what the notary was reading out, 
 and behold it was — " Contract of marriage on the part of 
 Philippe Marie Francois de Bellaise, Marquis de Xide- 
 merle, and Eustace de Eibaumont, Baron Walwyn of 
 Walwyn, in Dorset, and Baron de Eibaumont in Picardy, 
 on behoof of Gaspard Henri Philippe, Viscount de 
 Bellaise, nephew of the Marquis de Nidemerle, and Mar- 
 garet Henrietta Maria de Eibaumont, daughter of the 
 Baron de Eibaumont." 
 
 Then I knew that I had been taken in by the Prince's 
 wicked trick, and that my husband was to be the young 
 viscount, not the old uncle ! I do not think that this 
 was much comfort to me at the moment, for, all the same, 
 I was going into a strange country, away from every one 
 I had ever known. 
 
 But I did take courage to look up under my eye- 
 lashes at the form I was to see with very different eyes. 
 M. de Bellaise was only nineteen, but although not so 
 tall as my father or brother, he had already that grand 
 military bearing which is only acquired in the French 
 service, and no wonder, for he had been three years in 
 the Eegiment de Cond(^, and had already seen two battles 
 and three sieges in Savoy, and now had only leave of 
 absence for the winter before rejoining his regiment in 
 the Low Countries. 
 
 Yet he looked as bashful as a maiden. It was true 
 that, as my father said, his bashfulness was as great as
 
 II.] A LITTLE MUTUAL AVERSION. 13 
 
 an Englishman's. Indeed, he had been bred up at his 
 great uncle's chateau in Anjou, under a strict abbe who 
 had gone with him to the war, and from whom he was 
 only now to be set free upon his marriage. He had 
 scarcely ever spoken to any lady but his old aunt — his 
 parents had long been dead — and he had only two or 
 three times seen his little sister through the grating of her 
 convent. So, as he afterwards confessed, nothing but his 
 military drill and training bore him through the affair. 
 He stood upright as a dart, bowed at the right place, and 
 in due time signed his name to the contract, and I had 
 to do the same. Then there ensued a great state dinner, 
 where he and I sat together, but neither of us spoke to 
 the other : and when, as I was trying to see the viscount 
 under my eyelashes, I caught his eyes trying to do the 
 same by me, I remember my cheeks flaming all over, and 
 I think his must have done the same, for my father burst 
 suddenly out into a laugh without apparent cause, though 
 he tried to check himself when he saw my mother's 
 vexation. 
 
 When all was over, she highly lauded the young 
 gentleman, declaring that he was an example of the 
 decorum with which such matters were conducted in 
 France ; and when my father observed that he should 
 prefer a little more fire and animation, she said : " Truly, 
 my lord, one would think you were of mere English ex- 
 traction, that you should prefer the rude habits of a
 
 14 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 farmer or milkmaid to the reserve of a true noble and 
 lady of quality." 
 
 " Well, dame, I promised that you should have it 
 your own way with the poor lass," said my father ; " and 
 I see no harm in the lad, but I own I should like to 
 know more of him, and Meg would not object either. It 
 was not the way I took thee, Margaret." 
 
 " I shall never make you understand that a widow 
 is altogether a different thing," said my mother. 
 
 I suppose they never recollected that I could hear 
 every word they said, but I was full in view of them, and 
 of course I was listening most anxiously for all I could 
 gather about my new life. If I remember right, it was 
 an envoy-extraordinary with whom the marquis and his 
 nephew had come, and their stay was therefore very short, 
 so that we were married after a very few days in the 
 Queen's Chapel, by her own almoner. 
 
 I do not remember much about the wedding, as 
 indeed it was done very quietly, being intended to be 
 kept altogether a secret ; but in some way, probably 
 through the servants, it became known to the mob in 
 London, and as we drove home from Wliitehall in the 
 great coach with my father and mother, a huge crowd had 
 assembled, hissing and yelling and crying out upon Lord 
 Walwyn for giving his daughter to a French Papist. 
 
 The wretches! they even proceeded to throw stones. 
 My young bridegroom saw one of these which would have
 
 II.] A LITTLE MUTUAL AVERSION. 15 
 
 struck me had he not thrown himself forward, holding up 
 his hat as a shield. The stone struck him in the eye, 
 and he dropped forward upon my mother's knee senseless. 
 
 The crowd were shocked then, and fell back, but 
 what good did that do to him ? He was carried to his 
 chamber, and a surgeon was sent for, who said that there 
 was no great injury done, for the eye itself had not been 
 touched, but that he must be kept perfectly quiet until 
 the last minute, if he was to be able to travel without danger, 
 when the suite were to set off in two days' time. They 
 would not let me go near him. Perhaps I was relieved, for 
 I should not have known what to do; yet I feared that he 
 would think me unkind and ungrateful, and I would have 
 begged my mother and Eustace to thank him and make 
 my excuses, but I was too shy, and I felt it very hard to 
 be blamed for indifference and rudeness. 
 
 Indeed, we four young ones kept as much together as 
 we could do in the house and gardens, and played all our 
 dear old games of shuttlecock, and pig go to market, and 
 proverbs, and all that you, my children, call very English 
 sports, because we knew only too well that we should 
 never play at them together again. The more I was 
 blamed for being childish, the more I was set upon them, 
 till at last my mother said that she was afraid to let me 
 go, I was so childish and unfeeling; and my father replied 
 that she should have thought of that before. He and I 
 were both more English at heart than French, and I am
 
 16 STEAY PEAELS. [CHAP. 
 
 sure now that he perceived better than I did myself that 
 my clinging to my brothers and sister, and even my noisy 
 merriment, were not the effect of want of feeling. 
 
 As to my bridegroom, I have since known that he 
 was dreadfully afraid of us, more especially of me, and 
 was thankful that the injury kept him a prisoner. Nay, 
 he might have come downstairs, if he had been willing, 
 on the last evening, but he shrank from another pre- 
 sentation to me before the eyes of all the world, and 
 chose instead to act the invalid, with no companion save 
 Eustace, with whom he had made friends. 
 
 I will not tell you about the partings, and the 
 promises and assurances that we should meet again. My 
 father had always promised that my mother should see 
 Trance once more, and he now declared that they would 
 all visit me. Alas ! we little thought what would be 
 the accomplishment of that promise. 
 
 My father and Eustace rode with us from London to 
 Dover, and all that time I kept close to them. M. de 
 Bellaise was well enough to ride too. His uncle, the 
 marquis, went in a great old coach with the ladies, wives 
 of some of his suite, and I should have been there too, 
 but that I begged so hard to ride with my father that 
 he yielded, after asking M. le Vicomte whether he had 
 any objection. M. le Vicomte opened great eyes, smiled, 
 blushed and bowed, stammering something. I do not think 
 that he had quite realised previously that I was his wife,
 
 II.] A LITTLE MUTUAL AVERSION. 17 
 
 and belonged to him. My father made him ride with us, 
 and talked to him ; and out in the open air, riding with 
 the wind in our cheeks, and his plume streaming in the 
 breeze, he grew much less shy, and began to talk about 
 the wolf-hunts and boar-hunts in the Bocage, and of all 
 the places that my father and I both knew as well as 
 if we had seen them, from the grandam's stories. 
 
 I listened, but we neither of us sought the other ; 
 indeed, I believe it seemed hard to me that when there 
 was SO' little time with my father and Eustace, they 
 should waste it on these hunting, stories. Only too soon 
 we were at Dover, and the la-st, last farewell and blessing 
 were given. I looked my last, though I knew it not, at 
 that dear face of my father !, ' .. / 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 18 STRAY PEAELS. [CHAP. 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 CELADON AND CHLOE. 
 
 My tears were soon checked by dreadful sea-sickness. 
 We were no sooner out of Dover than the cruel wind 
 turned round upon us, and we had to go beating about 
 with all our sails reefed for a whole day and night before 
 it was safe to put into Calais. 
 
 All that time I was in untold misery, and poor nurse 
 Tryphena was worse than I was, and only now and then 
 was heard groaning out that she was a dead woman, and 
 begging me to tell some one to throw her overboard. 
 
 But it was that voyage which gave me my husband. 
 He was not exactly at his ease, but he kept his feet 
 better than any of the other gentlemen, and he set him- 
 self to supply the place of valet to his uncle, and of maid 
 to me, going to and fro between our cabins as best he 
 could, for he fell and rolled whenever he tried to move ; 
 and he never stayed five minutes by my side before a 
 sharp shriek or howl, or a message through the steward, 
 summoned him back to M, le Marquis, who had utterly
 
 III.] CELADON AND CHLOE. 19 
 
 forgotten all his politeness and formality towards the 
 ladies. 
 
 However, our sufferings were over at last. My hus- 
 band, who was by this time bruised from head to foot by 
 his falls, though he made no complaints, came to say we 
 should in a few moments be in port. He helped me to 
 dress, for Tryphena thought she was dead, and would not 
 move ; and he dragged me on deck, where the air revived 
 me, and where one by one the whole party appeared, 
 spectacles of misery. 
 
 M. le Marquis did not recover himself till he was 
 on shore, and caused himself to be assisted to the quay 
 between his nephew and the valet, leaving me to myself; 
 but the dear viscount returned for me, and after he had 
 set me ashore, as he saw I was anxious about Tryphena, 
 he went back and fetched her, as carefully as if she had 
 been a lady, in spite of the grumblings of his uncle and 
 of her own refractoriness, for she was horribly frightened, 
 and could not understand a word he said to her. 
 
 Nevertheless, as soon as we had all of us come to 
 ourselves, it turned out that he had gained her heart. 
 Indeed, otherwise I should have had to send her home, 
 for she pined sadly for some time, and nothing but her 
 love for me and her enthusiastic loyalty to him kept her 
 up duriug the first months. 
 
 As to my husband and me, that voyage had made us 
 as fond of one another's company on one side of the
 
 '20 STKAY PEAKLS. • [CHAP. 
 
 Gtannel as we had been afraid of it before on the other, 
 but there was no more riding together for us. I had to 
 travel in the great coach with M. le Marquis, the three 
 ladies, and all our women, where I was so dull and weary 
 that I should have felt ready to die, but for watching for 
 my husband's plume, or now and then getting a glance 
 and a nod from him as he rode among the other gentle- 
 men, braving all their laughter at his devotion; for, bashful 
 as he was, he knew how to hold his own. 
 
 I knew that the ladies looked on me as an ugly little 
 tustic foreigner, full of English mauvaise honte. If they 
 tried to be kind to me, it was as a mere child ; and they 
 "went on with their chatter, which I could hardly follow, 
 for it was about things and people of which I knew 
 nothing, so that I could not understand their laughter. 
 Or when they rejoiced in their return from what they 
 called their exile, and found fault with all they had left 
 in England, my cheeks burned with indignation. 
 
 My happy hours were when we halted for refresh- 
 ments. My husband handed me to my place at table 
 and sat beside me ; or he would walk with me about the 
 villages where we rested. The ladies were shocked, and 
 my husband was censured for letting me "/aire VAnglaise;" 
 but we were young and full of spirits, and the being thus 
 thrown on each other had put an end to his timidity 
 towards me. He did indeed blush up to his curls, and 
 hold himself as upright as a ramrod, when satire was
 
 m.] CELADON AND CHLOE. 21 
 
 directed to us as Celadou aud Chloe ; but he never took 
 any other notice of it, nor altered his behaviour in con- 
 sequence. Indeed, we felt like children escaping from 
 school when we crept down the stairs in early morning, 
 and hand-in-hand repaired to the church in time for the 
 very earliest mass among the peasants, who left their 
 scythes at the door, and the women with their Iwttes, or 
 their swaddled babies at their backs. We would get a 
 cup of milk and piece of barley-bread at some cottage, 
 and wander among the orchards, fields, or vineyards 
 before Mesdames had begun their toilets ; and when we 
 appeared at the d4je4ner, the gentlemen would compli- 
 ment me on my rouge au naturel, and the ladies would 
 ironically envy my English appetite. 
 
 Sometimes we rested in large hostels in cities, and 
 then our walk began with some old cathedral, which 
 could not but be admired, Gothic though it were, and 
 continued in the market-place, where the piles of fruit, 
 vegetables, and flowers were a continual wonder and 
 delight to me. My husband would buy bouquets of 
 pinks and roses for me; but in the coach the ladies 
 always said they incommoded them by their scent, 
 and obliged me to throw them away. The first day 
 I could not help shedding a few tears, for I feared 
 he would think I did not value them; and then I 
 perceived that they thought the little Englishwoman a 
 child crying for her flowers, I longed to ask them
 
 22 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 whether they had ever loved their husbands ; but I knew 
 how my mother would have looked at me, and forbore. 
 
 Once or twice we were received in state at some 
 chateau, where our mails had to be opened that we might 
 sup in full toilet; but this was seldom, for most of the 
 equals of M. le Marquis lived at Paris. Sometimes our 
 halt was at an abbey, where we ladies were quartered in 
 a guest-chamber without ; and twice we slept at large 
 old convents, where nobody had lived since the Huguenot 
 times, except a lay brother put in by M. I'Abbe to look 
 after the estate and make the house a kind of inn for 
 travellers. There were fine walled gardens run into wild 
 confusion, and littfe neglected and dismantled shrines, 
 and crosses here and there, with long wreaths of rose 
 and honeysuckle trailing over them, and birds' nests in 
 curious places. My Viscount laughed with a new 
 pleasure when I showed him the wren's bright eye peep- 
 ing out from her nest, and he could not think how I 
 knew the egg of a hedge-sparrow from that of a red- 
 breast. Even he had never been allowed to be out of 
 sight of his tutor, and he knew none of these pleasures so 
 freely enjoyed by my brothers ; while as to his sister 
 C^cile, she had been carried from her nurse to a convent, 
 and had thence been taken at fourteen to be wedded to 
 the grandson and heir of the Count d'Aubepine, who 
 kept the young couple under their own eye at their 
 castle in the Socage,
 
 III.] CELADON AND CHLOE. 23 
 
 My husband had absolutely only seen her twice, and 
 then through the grating, and the marriage had taken 
 place while he was in Savoy last autumn. He knew his 
 brother-in-law a little better, having been his neighbour 
 at Md de Merle; but he shrugged his shoulders as he spoke 
 of " le chevalier" and said he was very young, adored by 
 his grandparents, and rather headstrong. 
 
 As to growing up together in the unity that had 
 always existed between Eustace and me, he had never 
 heard or dreamt of such a thing ; and he confessed that 
 it had been an absolute surprise to him ta find that my 
 dear brother was grieved at parting with me. He said 
 he had lain and heard our shouts in the passages with 
 wonder as we played those old games of ours. 
 
 " As though you were in a den of roaring wild beasts," 
 I said; for I ventured on anything with him by that time, 
 and when he tried to say they were wild beasts with sweet 
 voices, I teased him about his feelings at having to carry 
 off one of these same savage beasts with him ; and then 
 he told me how surprised he had been when, on the last 
 evening he spent in his chamber in our house, Eustace 
 had come and implored him to be good to me, telling him 
 — ah, I can see my dear brother's boyish way ! — all my 
 best qualities, ranging from my always speaking truth to 
 my being able to teach the little dog to play tricks, and 
 warning him of what vexed or pained me, even exacting 
 a promise that he would take care of me when I was
 
 M -'" SifilAY PEARLS. ^ [cHAP. 
 
 away from them all. I believe that promise was fore- 
 most in my husband's mind when he waited on me at sea. 
 Nay, he said when he remembered the tears in my brother's 
 ieyes, and saw how mine arose at the thought, his heart 
 smote him when he remembered that his sister's marriage 
 had scarcely cost him a thought or care, and that she was 
 an utter stranger to him ; and then we agreed that if 
 ever we had children, we would bring them up to know 
 and love one another, and have precious recollections in 
 common. Ah ! Vhomme propose, mais Dieu dispose. 
 
 It was only on that day that it broke upon me that 
 we were to be separated immediately after our arrival in 
 Paris. M. de Bellaise was to go to his regiment, which 
 was in garrison at Nancy, and I was to be left under the 
 charge of old Madame la Marquise de Nidemerle at Paris. 
 I heard of it first from the Marquis himself in the coach, 
 as he thanked one of the ladies who invited me — with 
 him — to her salon in Paris, where there was to be a great 
 entertainment in the summer. AVlien I replied that M. 
 de Bellaise would have rejoined his regiment, they began 
 explaining that I should go into society under Madame 
 de Nidemerle, who would exert herself for my sake. 
 
 I said no more. I knew it was of no use there ; but 
 when next I could speak with my husband — it was 
 under an arbour of vines in the garden of the inn where 
 we dined — I asked him whether it was true. He opened 
 large eyes, and said he knew I could not wisli to with^
 
 mi] \. CEIADON AND CHLOE. 25 
 
 draw him from his duty to his king and country, eveii if 
 he could do so with honour. 
 
 "Ah! no," I said; "I never thought of that." But 
 surely the place of a wife was with her husband, and I 
 had expected to go with him to his garrison at JSTancy, 
 and there wait when he took the field. He threw him- 
 self at my feet, and pressed my hands with transport at 
 what he called this unheard-of proof of affection; and 
 then I vexed him by laughing, for I could not help 
 thinking what my brothers would have said, could they 
 have seen us thus. 
 
 Still he declared that, in spite of his wishes, it was 
 hardly possible. His great-uncle and aunt would never 
 consent. I said they had no right to interfere between 
 husband and wife, and he replied that they had brought 
 him up, and taken the place of parents to him ; to which 
 I rejoined that I was far nearer to him. He said I was 
 a mutinous Englishwoman ; and I rejoined that he should 
 never find me mutinous to him. 
 
 Nay, I made up my mind that if he would not insist 
 on taking me, I would find means to escape and join him. 
 What I Was I to be carried about in the coach of 
 Madame de Mdemerle to all the hateful salo'iis of Paris, 
 while my husband, the only person in France whom I 
 could endure, might be meeting wounds and death in the 
 Low Countries while I might be dancing ! 
 • 3o again I declined when the ladies in the; coach
 
 26 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 invited me to their houses in Paris. Should I go to a 
 convent ? they asked ; and one began to recommend the 
 Carmelites, another the Visitation, another Port Ptoyal, 
 till I was almost distracted ; and M. le Marquis began to 
 say it was a pious and commendable wish, but that 
 devotion had its proper times and seasons, and that 
 judgment must be exercised as to the duration of a 
 retreat, etc. 
 
 " No, Monsieur," said I, " I am not going into a con- 
 vent. A wife's duty is with her husband ; I am going 
 into garrison at Nancy." 
 
 Oh, how they cried out ! There was such a noise that 
 the gentlemen turned their horses' heads to see whether 
 any one was taken ill. Wlien they heard what was the 
 matter, persecution began for us both. 
 
 We used to compare our experiences ; the ladies 
 trying to persuade me now that it was improper, now that 
 I should be terrified to death, now that I should become 
 too ugly to be presentable; while the gentlemen made 
 game of M. de Bellaise as a foolish young lover, who was 
 so absurd as to encumber himself with a wife of whom 
 he would soon weary, and whose presence would interfere 
 with his enjoyment of the freedom and diversions of 
 military life. He who was only just free from his 
 governor, would he saddle himself with a wife ? Bah ! 
 
 He who had been so shy defended himself with 
 spirit ; and on my side I declared that nothing but
 
 III.] CELADON AND CHLOE. 27 
 
 his commands, and those of my father, should induce 
 me to leave him. At Amiens we met a courier on his 
 way to England, and by him we despatched letters to my 
 father. 
 
 M. de Mdemerle treated all like absurd childish 
 nonsense, complimenting me ironically all the while ; 
 but I thought he wavered a little before the journey 
 was over, wishing perhaps that he had never given his 
 nephew a strange, headstrong, English wife, but thinking 
 that, as the deed was done, the farther off from himself 
 she was the better. 
 
 At least, he no longer blamed his nephew and 
 threatened him with his aunt; but declared that Madame 
 de Eambouillet would soon put all such folly out of our 
 minds. 
 
 I asked my husband what Madame de Eambouillet 
 could have to do with our affairs ; and he shrugged his 
 shoulders and answered that the divine Arthenice was the 
 supreme judge of decorum, whose decisions no one could 
 gainsay.
 
 28 .: STBAY PEARLS. . [CHAP. 
 
 CHAPTEE lY. 
 
 THE SALON BLEU. 
 
 "We arrived at Paris late in the day, entering the city 
 through a great fortified gateway, and then rolling slowly 
 through the rough and narrow streets. You know them 
 too well, my children, to be able to conceive how strange 
 and new they seemed to me, accustomed as I was to our 
 smooth broad Thames and the large gardens of the houses 
 in the Strand lying on its banks. 
 
 Our carriage turned in under the 'port& coMre of this 
 Hotel de Mdemerle of ours, and entered the courtyard. 
 My husband, his uncle, and I know not how many more, 
 were already on the steps. M. de Nidemerle solemnly 
 embraced me and bade me welcome, presenting me at 
 the same time to a gentleman, in crimson velvet and 
 silver, as my brother. My foolish heart bounded for a 
 moment as if it could have been Eustace ; but it was 
 altogether the face of a stranger, except for a certain 
 fine smile like my mother's. It was, of course, my half- 
 brother, M. le Baron de Solivet, who saluted me, and
 
 IV;] " THi: SALOiT BLEU. li^ 
 
 politely declared himself glad to .make the acquaintance 
 of his sister. . " ' ' 
 
 The Marquis then led me up the broad stairs, lined 
 with lackeys, to our own suite of apartments, where I 
 was to arrange my dress before being presented to 
 Madame de Mdemerle, who begged me to excuse her 
 not being present to greet me, as she had cahght cold 
 and had a frightful megrim. 
 
 I made my toilet, and they brought me a cup of emc 
 sucr4e and a few small cakes, not half enough for my 
 hungry English appetite. 
 
 My husband looked me over more anxiously than 
 'ever he had done before ; and I wished, for his sake, that 
 I had been prettier and fitter to make a figure among all 
 these grand French ladies. 
 
 My height was a great trouble to me in those un- 
 formed days. I had so much more length to dispose of 
 than my neighbours, and I knew they remarked me the 
 more for it ; and then my hair never would remain in 
 curl for half an hour together. My mother could put it 
 up safely, but since I had left her it was always coming 
 down, like, flax from a distaff ; and though I had in general 
 a tolerably fresh and rosy complexion, heat outside and 
 agitation within made my whole face, nose and all, 
 instantly become the colour of a clove gillyflower. It 
 had so become every afternoon on the journey, and I 
 knew I was growing redder and redder every moment,
 
 30 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 and that I should put him, my own dear Viscount, to 
 shame hefore his aunt. 
 
 " Oh ! my friend," I sighed, " pardon me, I cannot 
 help it." 
 
 " Why should I pardon thee ? " he answered tenderly. 
 " Because thou hast so great and loving a heart ? " 
 
 " Ah ! but what will thine aunt think of me ? " 
 
 " Let her think," he said. " Thou art mine, not 
 Madame's." 
 
 I know not whether those words made me less red, 
 but they gave me such joyous courage that I could have 
 confronted all the dragoons, had I been of the colour of a 
 boiled lobster, and when he himself sprinkled me for the 
 last time with essences, I felt ready to defy the censure 
 of all the marchionesses in France. 
 
 My husband took me by the hand and led me to the 
 great chamber, where in an alcove stood the state bed, 
 with green damask hangings fringed with gold, and in 
 the midst of pillows trimmed with point-lace sat up 
 Madame la Marquise, her little sallow face, like a bit of 
 old parchment, in the midst of the snowy linen, and not 
 —to my eyes — wearing a very friendly aspect. 
 
 She had perhaps been hearing of my wilfulness and 
 insubordination, for she was very grand and formal with 
 me, solemnly calling me Madame la Yicomtesse, and never 
 her niece, and I thought all the time that I detected a 
 sneer. If I had wished for my husband's sake to accom-
 
 IV.] THE SALON BLEU. 31 
 
 pany him, I wished it ten thousand times more when I 
 fully beheld the alternative. 
 
 Ah ! I am writing treason. Had I been a well- 
 trained French young girl I should have accepted my 
 lot naturally, and no doubt all the family infinitely 
 regretted that their choice had fallen on one so impractic- 
 able. 
 
 I was happier at the supper-table, to which we were 
 soon summoned, for I had become accustomed to M. de 
 Nidemerle, who was always kind to me. Poor old man, 
 I think he had hoped to have something young and lively 
 in his house ; but I never thought of that, and of course 
 my husband was my only idea. 
 
 M. de SoHvet sat by me, and asked many questions 
 about my mother and the rest of the family, treating me 
 more as a woman than any one else had done. Nor 
 was it long before I caught slight resemblances both to 
 my mother and to my brother Berenger, which made me 
 feel at home with him. He was a widower, and his two 
 daughters were being educated in a convent, where he 
 promised to take me to visit them, that I might describe 
 them to their grandmother. 
 
 Poor little things ! I thought them very stiff and 
 formal, and pitied them when I saw them ; but I believe 
 they were really full of fun and frolic among their com- 
 panions. 
 
 M. de Solivet was consulted on this wild scheme of
 
 52 . STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 mine, and the Marchioness desired ' him to show me its 
 absurdity. He began by arguing that it was never well 
 to act in the face of custom, and that he had only known 
 of two ladies who had followed their husbands to the 
 wars, and both of them only belonged to the /petite iwUesse, 
 and were no precedent for me ! One of them had 
 actually joined her husband when wounded and made 
 prisoner, and it was said that her care had saved his 
 life! 
 
 Such a confession on his part rendered me the more 
 determined, and we reminded M. de Nidemerle of his 
 promise to consult Madame de Eambouillet, though I 
 would not engage even then to abide by any decision 
 except my father's, which I daily expected. I overheard 
 people saying how much M. de Bellaise was improved by 
 his marriage, and how much more manly and less em- 
 barrassed he had become, and I felt that my resolution 
 made him happy, so that I became the more determined. 
 
 Children, you who have laughed at Les Prdcieuses can 
 have little idea what the Hotel de Eambouillet was 
 when, three nights after my arrival, I went thither with 
 my husband and his uncle and aunt. \^ 
 
 The large salon, hung and draped with blue velvet, 
 divided by lines of gold, was full of people ranged in a 
 circle, listening eagerly to the recital of a poem by the 
 author, an Abbe, who stood in the midst, declaiming each 
 couplet with emphasis, and keeping time with his foot.
 
 IV.] THE SALON BLEU. 33 
 
 while lie made gestures with his uplifted hand. Indeed, 
 I thought at first he was in a furious passion and was 
 going to knock some one down, till I saw how calmly 
 every one sat ; and then again I fancied we had come to 
 a theatre by mistake ; but happily I did not speak, and, 
 without interrupting the declamation, chairs were given 
 us, and exchanging a mute salutation with a lady of a 
 noble cast of beauty, who guided us to seats, we quietly 
 took our places. She was Julie d'Argennes, the daughter 
 of Madame de Eambouillet. A gentleman followed her 
 closely, the Duke of Montausier, who adored her, but 
 whom she could not yet decide on accepting. 
 
 I found it difficult to keep from laughing at the 
 gestures of the Abbe, especially when I thought of my 
 brothers and how they would mock them ; but I knew 
 that this would be unpardonable bad taste, and as I had 
 come in too late to have the clue to the discourse, I 
 amused myself with looking about me. 
 
 Perhaps the most striking figure was that of the 
 hostess, with her stately figure, and face, not only full of 
 intellect, but of something that went far beyond it, and 
 came out of some other higher world, to which she was 
 trying to raise this one. 
 
 Next I observed a lady, no longer in her first youth, 
 but still wonderfully fair and graceful. She was en- 
 throned in a large arm-chair, and on a stool beside her 
 sat her daughter, a girl of my own age, the most lovely 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 creature I had ever seen, with a profusion of light flaxen 
 hair, and deep blue eyes, and one moment full of grave 
 thought, at another of merry mischief. A youth sat by, 
 whose cast of features reminded me of the Prince of 
 Wales, but his nose was more aquiline, his dark blue 
 eyes far more intensely bright and flashing, and whereas 
 Prince Charles would have made fun of all the flourishes 
 of our poet, they seemed to inspire in this youth an ardour 
 he could ba,rely restrain, and when there was something 
 vehement about Mon epde et ma jpatrie he laid his hand 
 on his sword, and his eyes lit up, so that he reminded 
 me of a young eagle. 
 
 This was the Princess of Cond^, who in the pride of 
 her youthful beauty had been the last flame of Henri IV., 
 who had almost begun a war on her account ; this was 
 her lovely daughter. Mademoiselle de Bourbon, and her 
 sons, the brave Duke of Enghien, with his deformed 
 brother, the Prince of Conti. 
 
 When the recital was over, there was a general out- 
 burst of applause, in which M. de Nidemerle joined 
 heartily. Madame de Eambouillet gave her meed of 
 approbation, but her daughter. Mademoiselle d'Argennes, 
 took exception at the use of the word chevaucher, for to 
 ride, both as being obsolete, and being formed from the 
 name of a single animal, instead of regularly derived from 
 a Latin verb. 
 
 The Abb^ defended his word, and for fully twenty
 
 IV.] THE SALON BLEU. 35 
 
 minutes there was aa eager argument, people citing 
 passages and derivations, and defining shades of meaning 
 with immense animation and brilliant wit, as I now 
 understand, though then it seemed to me a wearisome 
 imhroglio about a trifle. I did not know what real 
 benefit was done by these discussions in purifying the 
 language from much that was coarse and unrefined. 
 Yes, and far more than the language, for Madame de 
 Eambouillet, using her great gifts as a holy trust for the 
 good of her neighbour, conferred no small benefit on her 
 generation, nor is that good even yet entirely vanished. 
 Ah ! if there were more women like her, Trance and 
 society would be very different. 
 
 When the discussion was subsiding, Mademoiselle 
 d'Argennes came to take me by the hand, and to present 
 us to the queen of the salon, 
 
 " Here, my mother, are our Odoardo and Gildippe," 
 she said. 
 
 You remember, my children, that Odoardo and Gil- 
 dippe are the names bestowed by Tasso on the English 
 married pair who went together on the first crusade, and 
 Gildippe continued to be my name in that circle, my 
 nom de Parnasse, as it was called — nay, Madame de 
 Montausier still gives it to me. 
 
 The allusion was a fortunate one; it established a 
 precedent, and, besides, English people have always been 
 supposed to be eccentric. I am, however, doing the
 
 36 STEAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 noble lady injustice. Arthenice, as she was called by an 
 anagram of her baptismal name of Catherine, was no 
 blind slave to the conventional. She had originality 
 enough to have been able to purify the whole sphere in 
 which she moved, and to raise the commonplace into 
 the ideal. "Excuse me," she said to her friends, and 
 she led my husband apart into a deep window, and there, 
 as he told me, seemed to look him throuorh and throucrh. 
 And verily he was one who needed not to fear such an 
 inspection, any more than the clearest crystal. 
 
 Then, in like manner, she called for me, and made 
 me understand that I was condemning myself to a life 
 of much isolation, and that I must be most circumspect 
 in my conduct, while, after all, I might see very little of 
 my husband ; I must take good care that my presence 
 was a help and refreshment, not a burden and perplexity 
 to him, or he would neglect me and repent my coming. 
 " It may seem strange," she said, " but I tliink my young 
 friend will understand me, that I have always found 
 that, next of course to those supplied by our holy religion, 
 the best mode of rendering our life and its inconveniences 
 endurable is to give them a colouring of romance." I 
 did not understand her then, but I have often since 
 thought of her words, when the recollection of the poeti- 
 cal aspect of the situation has aided my courage and my 
 good temper. Madame de Eambouillet looked into my 
 eyes as she spoke, then said : " Pardon an old woman, my
 
 IV.] THE SALON BLEU. 37 
 
 dear;" and kissed my brow, saying : " You will do what I 
 have only dreamt of." 
 
 Finally she led us forward to our great-uncle, saying : 
 "M. le Marquis, I have conversed with these children. 
 They love one another, and so long as that love lasts 
 they will be better guardians to one another than ten 
 governors or twenty dames de compagnier 
 
 In England we should certainly not have done all 
 this in public, and my husband and I were terribly put 
 to the blush; indeed, I felt my whole head and neck 
 burning, and caught a glimpse of myself in a dreadful 
 mirror, my white bridal dress and flaxen hair making my 
 fiery face look, my brothers would have said, " as if I had 
 been skinned." 
 
 And then, to make it all worse, a comical little 
 crooked lady, with a keen lively face, came hopping up 
 with hands outspread, crying : " Ah, let me see her ! 
 Where is the fair Gildippe, the true heroine, who is 
 about to confront the arrows of the Lydians for the sake 
 of the lord of her heart ?" 
 
 " My niece," said the Marquis, evidently gratified by 
 the sensation I had created, " Mademoiselle de Scudery 
 does you the honour of requesting to be presented to 
 
 you." 
 
 I made a low reverence, terribly abashed, and I fear 
 it would have reduced my mother to despair, but it was 
 an honour that I appreciated ; for now that I was a
 
 38 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 married woman, I was permitted to read romances, and I 
 had just begun on the first volume of the Grand Cyrus. 
 My husband read it to me as I worked at my embroidery, 
 and you may guess how we enjoyed it. 
 
 But I had no power of making compliments, — -nay, my 
 English heart recoiled in anger at their making such an 
 outcry, whether of blame or praise, at what seemed to me 
 the simplest thing in the world. The courtesy and con- 
 sideration were perfect ; as soon as these people saw that 
 I was really abashed and distressed, they turned their 
 attention from me. My husband was in the meantime 
 called to be presented to the Duke of Enghien, and I re- 
 mained for a little while unmolested, so that I could 
 recover myself a little. Presently a soft voice close to 
 me said " Madame," and I looked up into the beautiful 
 countenance of Anne Genevieve de Bourbon, her blue eyes 
 shining on me with the sweetest expression. " Madame," 
 she said, " permit me to tell you how glad I am for you." 
 
 I thanked her most heartily. I felt this was the real 
 tender sympathy of a being of my own age and like my- 
 self, and there was something so pathetic in her ex- 
 pression that I felt sorry for her. 
 
 " You are good ! You will keep good," she said. 
 
 " I hope so, Mademoiselle," I said. 
 
 " Ah ! yes, you will. They will not make you lose 
 your soul against your will ! " and she clenched her deli- 
 cate white hand.
 
 lY.] THE SALON BLEU. 39 
 
 " Nobody can do that, Mademoiselle." 
 
 " What ! 'Not when they drag you to balls and 
 fetes away from the cloister, where alone you can be 
 safe ?" 
 
 " I hope not there alone," I said. 
 
 " For me it is the only place," she repeated. " What 
 is the use of wearing haircloth when the fire of the 
 Bourbons is in one's blood, and one has a face that all 
 the world runs after ? " 
 
 " Ifais, Mademoiselle," I said ; " temptation is only to 
 prove our strength." 
 
 " You are strong. You have conquered," she said, 
 and clasped my hand. " But then you loved him." 
 
 I suppose I smiled a little with my conscious bliss, 
 for this strange young princess hastily asked : " Did you 
 love him ? I mean, before you were married." 
 
 " Oh no," I said, glad to disavow what was so shock- 
 ing in my new country. 
 
 " But he is lovable ? Ah ! that is it. While you 
 are praying to Heaven, and devoting yourself to a hus- 
 band whom you love, remember that if I ruin my soul, 
 it is because they would have it so !" 
 
 At that moment there was a pause. A gentleman, 
 the Marquis de Feuquieres, had come in, bringing with 
 him a very young lad, in the plain black gown and white 
 collar of a theological student ; and it was made known 
 that the Marquis had been boasting of the wonderful
 
 40 STKAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 facility of a youth who was studying at the College of 
 Navarre, and had declared that he could extemporise 
 with eloquence upon any subject. Some one had begged 
 that the youth might be fetched and set to preach on a 
 text proposed to him at the moment, and here he was. 
 
 Madame de Eambouillet hesitated a little at the 
 irreverence, but the Duke of Enghien requested that the 
 sermon might take place, and she consented, only looking 
 at her watch and saying it was near midnight, so that 
 the time was short. M. Yoiture, the poet, carried round 
 a velvet bag, and each was to write a text on a slip of 
 paper to be drawn out at haphazard. 
 
 We two showed each other what we wrote. My 
 husband's was — " Love is strong as death ; " mine — 
 " Let the wife cleave unto her husband." But neither of 
 them was drawn out. I saw by the start that Made- 
 moiselle de Bourbon gave that it was hers, when the first 
 paper was taken out — " Vanity of vanities, all is vanity !" 
 A few minutes were offered to the young Abbe to collect 
 his thoughts, but he declined them, and he was led to a sort 
 of a dais at the end of the salon, while the chairs were 
 placed in a half-circle. Some of the ladies tittered a little, 
 though Madame de Eambouillet looked grave ; but they 
 composed themselves. We all stood and repeated the 
 Am, and then seated ourselves; while the youth, in a 
 voice already full and sweet, began solemnly : " What is 
 life ? what is man ?"
 
 IV.] THE SALON BLEU. 41 
 
 I can never convey to you how this world and all its 
 fleeting follies seemed to melt away before us, and how 
 each of us felt our soul alone in the presence of our 
 Maker, as though nothing mattered, or ever would matter, 
 but how we stood with Him. One hardly dared to draw 
 one's breath. Mademoiselle de Bourbon was almost stifled 
 with the sobs she tried to restrain lest her mother should 
 make her retire. My husband held my hand, and pressed 
 it unseen. He was a deeper, more thoughtful man ever 
 after he heard that voice, which seemed to come, as it 
 were, from the Angel at Bochim who warned the Israel- 
 ites ; and that night we dedicated ourselves to the God 
 who had not let us be put asunder. 
 
 I wished we could have gone away at once and heard 
 no more, and so must,. I think, the young preacher have 
 felt; but he was surrounded with compliments. M. 
 Voiture said he had never heard " so early nor so late a 
 sermon;" while others thronged up with their compli- 
 ments. 
 
 Madame de Rambouillet herself murmured : " He 
 might be Daniel hearing the compliments of Belshazzar 
 on his deciphering the handwriting," so impassively did 
 he listen to the suffrages- of the assembly, only replying 
 by a bow. 
 
 The Duke of Engliien, boldest of course, pressed up 
 to him and, taking his hand, begged to know his name, 
 
 " Bossuet, Monseigneur," he answered.
 
 42 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 There were one or two who had the bad taste to smile, 
 for Bossuet (I must tell my English kindred) means a 
 draught-ox ; but once more the lovely sister of the young 
 Duke grasped my hand and said : " Oh, that I could 
 hide myself at once ! Why will they not let me give 
 myself to my God ? Vanity of vanities ! why am I 
 doomed ? " 
 
 I was somewhat frightened, and was glad that a 
 summons of " my daughter " from the Princess of Condd 
 interrupted these strange communications. I understood 
 them better when we were called upon to tell the old 
 Marchioness the names of every one whom we had met at 
 the Hotel de Eambouillet, and on hearing of the presence 
 of Mademoiselle de Bourbon she said : " Ah ! yes, a mar- 
 riage is arranged for the young lady with the Duke of 
 Longueville." 
 
 " But ! " exclaimed my husband, " the Duke is an old 
 man, whose daughter is older than I." 
 
 " What has that to do with it ? " said his aunt. 
 " There is not much blood in France with which a Mont- 
 morency Bourbon can match. Moreover, they say the 
 child is devote, and enUUe on Madame de Port Eoyal, who 
 is more than suspected of being outr6e in her devotion ; 
 so the sooner she is married the better !" 
 
 Poor beautiful girl, how I pitied her then! Her 
 lovely, wistful, blue eyes haunted me all night, in the 
 midst of my own gladness ; for a courier had come that
 
 IV.] THE SALON BLEU. 43 
 
 evening bringing my father's reply. He said my mother 
 deplored my unusual course, but that for his part he 
 liked his little girl the better for her courage, and that 
 he preferred that I should make my husband's home 
 happy to my making it at court. All he asked of me 
 was to remember that I had to guard the honour of my 
 husband's name and of my country, and he desired that 
 I should take Tryphena with me wherever I went.
 
 44 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 CHAPTEE Y. 
 
 IN GARRISON. 
 
 I AM almost afraid to dwell on those happiest days of my 
 life that I spent in garrison. My eyes, old as they are, 
 fill with tears when I am about to write of them, and 
 yet they passed without my knowing how happy they 
 were ; for much of my time was spent in solitude, much 
 in waiting, much in anxiety ; but ah ! there then always 
 was a possibility that never, never can return ! 
 
 Nancy seems to me a paradise when I look back to 
 it, with its broad clean streets and open squares, and the 
 low houses with balconies, and yet there I often thought 
 myself miserable, for I began to learn what it was to 
 be a soldier's wife. Madame de Eambouillet had kindly 
 written to some of her friends in the duchy of Lorraine 
 respecting me, and they assisted us in obtaining a lodging 
 and servants. This might otherwise have been difficult, 
 for the Duke was in the Spanish army, while we held his 
 territories, and naturally we were not in very good odour 
 with the people.
 
 v.] IN GARRISON. 45 
 
 My husband had to leave me, immediately after he had 
 placed me in my little house at Nancy, to join the army 
 in Germany under Marshal Guebrian. I lived through 
 that time by the help of the morning mass, of needlework, 
 and of the Grand Gyrus, which I read through and then 
 began again. My dear husband never failed to send me 
 a courier once a week with letters that were life to me, 
 and sometimes I heard from England ; but my mother's 
 letters were becoming full of anxiety, affairs were looking 
 so ill for the king. 
 
 After a gallant victory over the Swedes my Viscount 
 returned to me without a wound, and with distinguished 
 praise from the Marshal. That was an important winter, 
 for it saw the deaths of the great Cardinal and of King Louis 
 XIII., moreover of the old Marchioness. My husband's 
 loving heart sorrowed for her and for his uncle ; but that 
 same week brought thee to my arms, my dear son, my 
 beloved Gaspard ! Oh, what a fight Tryphena and I had 
 to prevent his being stifled in swaddling clothes ! And 
 how all the women predicted that his little limbs would 
 be broken and never be straight. 
 
 That winter was only clouded by the knowledge that 
 spring would take my husband away again. How good 
 he was to me ! How much pleasure and amusement he 
 gave up for my sake ! He had outgrown his bashfulness 
 and embarrassment in this campaign, and could take his 
 place in company, but he remained at home with me.
 
 46 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 I had neither the grace nor the vivacity that would 
 have enabled me to collect a society around me, and I 
 seldom saw his brother officers except my brother M. de 
 Solivet, and his great friend M. de Chamillard, who was 
 quite fatherly to me. 
 
 The Duke of Enghien took the command of the army 
 of Picardy, and asked for our regiment. I entreated not 
 to be sent back to Paris, and prevailed to be allowed to 
 take up my abode at Mezieres, where I was not so far 
 from the camp but that my dear M. de Bellaise could 
 sometimes ride over and see me. He told me of the 
 murmur of the elder men of the army that the fiery young 
 inexperienced prince was disregarding all the checks that 
 the old Marshal de I'Hopital put in his way ; but he 
 himself was delighted, and made sure of success. The 
 last time he came he told me he heard that Eocroy was 
 invested by the enemy. I was made to promise that in 
 case of any advance on the enemy's part I would instantly 
 set off for Paris. He said it was the only way to make 
 him fight with a free heart, if a battle there were, and 
 not repent of having permitted me to follow him, and 
 that I must think of my child as well as myself ; but he 
 did not expect any such good fortune as a battle, the old 
 marshal was so set against it I 
 
 But I knew that he did expect a battle, by the way 
 he came back and back again to embrace me and his 
 child.
 
 v.] IN GARRISON. 47 
 
 I have waited and watched many times since that 
 day, but never as I then waited. With what agony I 
 watched and prayed ! how I lived either before the altar, 
 or at the window! how I seemed to be all eyes and ears! 
 How reports came that there was fighting, then that we 
 had the day, then that all was lost ! Then came a calm, 
 and it was said that Marshal de I'Hopital had refused to 
 fight, and was in full retreat, with the Duke of Enghien 
 cursing and swearing and tearing his hair. My landlord 
 had a visit from the mayor to say that he must prepare 
 to have some men billeted on him, and I sent out to 
 inquire for horses, but decided that, as it was only our 
 own troops retreating, there would be plenty of time. 
 Then one of the maids of the house rushed in declaring 
 that firing was plainly to be heard. Half the people 
 were out in the streets, many more had gone outside the 
 city to listen. Tryphena sat crying with fright, and 
 rocking the baby in her lap, and wishing she had never 
 come to this dreadful country. Alas ! poor Tryphena, 
 she would have been no better off in her own at that 
 moment ! I ran from window to door, unable to rest a 
 moment, listening to the cries in the streets, asking the 
 landlady what she heard, and then running back to my 
 own room to kneel in prayer, but starting up at the next 
 sound in the streets. 
 
 At last, just before sunset, on that long, long 19th of 
 May, all the bells began to ring, clashing as if mad with
 
 48 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 joy, and a great roaring shout burst out all over the city: 
 "Victory ! Victory ! Vive le Eoi ! Vive le Due 
 d'Enghien ! " 
 
 I was at the window just in time to see a party of 
 splendid horsemen, carrying the striped and castellated 
 colours of Spain, galloping through the town, followed by 
 universal shouts and acclamations. My man-servant, 
 Mcole, frantic with joy, came in to tell me that they had 
 only halted at the inn long enough to obtain fresh horses, 
 on their way to the Queen-Kegent with the news of the 
 great victory of Eocroy. More standards taken, more 
 cannon gained, more of the enemy killed and captive than 
 could be counted, and all owing to the surpassing valour 
 of the Duke of Enghien ! 
 
 " And my husband ! " I cried, and asked everybody, 
 as if, poor little fool that I was, any one was likely to 
 know how it fared with one single captain of the dragoons 
 of Conde on such a day as that ! 
 
 The good landlady and Tryphena both tried to re- 
 assure me that if there were ill news it would have been 
 sent to me at once; but though they persuaded me at last 
 to go to bed, T could not sleep, tossing about and listening 
 till morning light, when I dropped into a sound sleep, 
 which lasted for hours. I had longed for the first morn- 
 ing mass to go and pray there, but after all I only heard 
 the bells through my slumber, feeling as if I could not 
 rouse myself, and then — as it seemed to me, in another
 
 v.] IN GAERISON. 49 
 
 moment — I heard something that made me turn round 
 on my pillow and open my eyes, and there he stood — my 
 husband himself. His regiment had surpassed itself; 
 he had received the thanks of his colonel ; he had but 
 snatched a few hours' sleep, and had ridden off to assure 
 his Gildippe of his safety by her own eyes, and to rejoice 
 over our splendid victory. 
 
 And yet he could not but shudder as he spoke. 
 When they had asked a Spanish prisoner how many 
 there had been in the army, " Count the dead," he 
 proudly answered. Nor could my husband abstain from 
 tears as he told me how the old Spanish guards were all 
 lying as they stood, slain all together, with their colonel, 
 the Count of Fontanes, at their head, sitting in the arm- 
 chair in which he had been carried to the field, for he 
 was more than eighty years old, and could not stand or 
 ride on account of the gout. 
 
 The Duke of Enghien had said that if he had not 
 been victorious, the next best thing would be to have 
 died like that. 
 
 But his charges, his fire, his coolness, his skill, the 
 vehemence which had triumphed over the caution of the 
 old marshal, and the resolution which had retrieved the 
 day when his colleague was wounded ; of all this M. de 
 Bellaise spoke with passionate ardour and enthusiasm, 
 and I — oh ! I think that was the happiest and most 
 glorious day of all my life ! 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 When we went together to mass, how everybody 
 looked at him ! and when we returned there was quite a 
 little crowd — M. le Gouverneur and his officials eager to 
 make their compliments to M. de Bellaise, and to ask 
 questions about the Duke and about the battle, and 
 whether he thought the Duke would march this way, in 
 which case a triumphal entry should be prepared. They 
 wanted to have regaled M. de Bellaise with a banquet, 
 and were sadly disappointed when he said he had only 
 stolen a few hours to set his wife's heart at rest, and must 
 return immediately to the camp. 
 
 There was little after that to make me anxious, for 
 our army merely went through a course of triumphs, 
 taking one city after another in rapid succession. I re- 
 mained at Mezieres, and M. de Bellaise sometimes was 
 able to spend a few days with me, much, I fear, to the 
 derision of his fellow-soldiers, who could not understand 
 a man's choosing such a form of recreation. We had been 
 walking under the fine trees in the Place on a beautiful 
 summer evening, and were mounting the stairs on our 
 return home, when we heard a voice demanding of the 
 hostess whether this were the lodging of Captain de Bellaise. 
 
 I feared that it was a summons from the camp, but 
 as the stranger came forward I saw that he was a very 
 young man in the dress of a groom, booted, spurred, and 
 covered with dust and dried splashes of mud, though his 
 voice and pronunciation were those of a gentleman.
 
 v.] IN GARRISON. 51 
 
 " Do jou bring tidings from M. le Marquis ? " inquired 
 my husband, who had recognised our livery. 
 
 " Ah ! I have deceived you likewise, and no wonder, 
 for I should not have known you, Philippe," cried the 
 new comer. 
 
 " Armand d'Aubepine ! Impossible ! I thought your 
 child was a girl," exclaimed my husband. 
 
 " And am I to waste my life and grow old inglori- 
 ously on that account ? " demanded the youth, who had 
 by this time come up to our rooms. 
 
 "Welcome, then, my brother," said my husband, a 
 little gravely, as I thought. " My love," he added, 
 turning to me, " let me present to you my brother-in-law, 
 the Chevalier d'Aubepine." 
 
 With infinite grace the Chevalier put a knee to the 
 ground, and kissed my hand. 
 
 " Madame will be good enough to excuse my present 
 appearance," he said, " in consideration of its being the only 
 means by which I could put myself on the path of honour." 
 
 " It is then an evasion ? " said my husband gravely. 
 
 " My dear Viscount, do not give yourself the airs of a 
 patriarch. They do not suit with your one-and-twenty 
 years, even though you are the model of husbands. Tell 
 me, where is your hero ? " 
 
 " The Duke ? He is before Thiomdlle." 
 
 " I shall be at his feet in another day. TeU me how 
 goes the war. What cities are falling before our arms ?" 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARY
 
 52 STEAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 He asked of victories ; M. de Bellaise asked of his 
 sister. " Oh ! well, well, what do I know ? " he answered 
 lightly, as if the matter were beneath his consideration ; 
 and when I inquired about his child, he actually made a 
 grimace, and indeed he had barely seen her, for she had 
 been sent out to be nursed at a farmhouse, and he did 
 not even recollect her name. I shall never forget how 
 he stared, when at the sound of a little cry my husband 
 opened the door and appeared with our little Gaspard, 
 now five months old, laughing and springing in his arms, 
 and feeling for the gold on his uniform. The count 
 had much the same expression with which I have seen 
 a lady regard me when I took a caterpillar in my 
 hand. 
 
 "Ah ! ah !" cried our Chevalier; "with all liis legs 
 and arms too ! That is what comes of marrying an 
 Englishwoman." [He did not know I was within hear- 
 ing, for I had gone in to give Tryphena orders about the 
 room he would occupy.] " Besides, it is a son." 
 
 " I hope one day to have a daughter whom I shall 
 love the more, the more she resembles her mother," said 
 my husband, to tease him. 
 
 " Bah ! You will not have to detest her for keeping 
 you back from glory ! Tell me, Philippe, could a lettre 
 de cachet reach me here ?" 
 
 " We are on French soil. What have you been 
 doing, Armand ? "
 
 v.] IN GARRISON. 53 
 
 " Only flying from inglorious dulness, my friend. 
 Do not be scandalised, but let me know how soon I 
 can reach the hero of France, and enrol myself as a 
 volunteer." 
 
 " The Duke is at Binche. I must return thither to- 
 morrow. You had better eat and sleep here to-night, and 
 then we can decide what is to be done." 
 
 " I may do that," the youth said, considering. " My 
 grandfather could hardly obtain an order instantaneously, 
 and I have a fair start." 
 
 So M. de Bellaise lent him some clothes, and he 
 appeared at supper as a handsome lively-looking youth, 
 hardly come to his full height, for he was only seventeen, 
 with a haughty bearing, and large, almost fierce dark eyes, 
 under eyebrows that nearly met. 
 
 At supper he told us his story. He was, as you 
 know, the only scion of the old house of Aubepine, his 
 father having been killed in a duel, and his mother 
 dying at his birth. His grandparents bred him up with 
 the most assiduous care, but (as my husband told me) it 
 was the care of pride rather than of love. Wlien still a 
 mere boy, they married him to poor little Cecile de Bell- 
 aise, younger still, and fresh from her convent, promising, 
 on his vehement entreaty, that so soon as the succes- 
 sion should be secured by the birth of a son, he should 
 join the army. 
 
 Imagine then his indignation and despair when a little
 
 54 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 daughter — a miserable little girl, as he said — made her 
 appearance, to prolong his captivity. For some centuries, 
 he said — weeks he meant — he endured, but then came 
 the tidings of Eocroy to drive him wild with impatience, 
 and the report that there were negotiations for peace 
 completed the work. He made his wife give him her 
 jewels and assist his escape from the window of her 
 chamber ; bribed a courier — who was being sent from M. 
 de Nidemerle to my husband — to give him his livery and 
 passport and despatches, and to keep out of sight ; and 
 thus passed successfully through Paris, and had, thi'ough 
 a course of adventures which he narrated with great spirit, 
 safely reached us. Even if the rogue of a courier, as he 
 justly called his accomplice, had betrayed him, there was 
 no fear but that he would have time to put himself on 
 the roll of the army, whence a promising young noble 
 volunteer was not likely to be rejected. 
 
 My husband insisted that he should write to ask the 
 pardon of his grandfather, and on that condition engaged 
 to introduce him to the Duke and to the lieutenant- 
 colonel of his regiment. M. de Bellaise then inquired 
 anxiously after the health of our uncle, who, on the death 
 of his wife, had retired to his own estate at Nid de JMerle, 
 close to the Chateau d'Aubdpine. Of this the young 
 gentleman could tell little or nothing. 
 
 " Bah !" he said, adding what he thought was a 
 brilliant new military affii-mation, unaware that it was as
 
 v.] IN GAKRISON. 55 
 
 old as the days of the League. " What know I ? He is, 
 as all old men are, full of complaints." 
 
 Handsome, graceful, courteous, spirited as was this 
 young Chevalier, I could not like him, and I afterwards 
 told my husband that I wondered at his assisting him. 
 
 " My love," he said, " the Chateau d'Aubepine is dull 
 enough to die of. The poor fellow was eating out his 
 own heart. He has followed his instinct, and it is the 
 only thing that can save him from worse corruption." 
 
 " His instinct of selfishness," I said. " His talk was 
 all of glory, but it was of his own glory, not his duty 
 nor the good of his country. He seems to me to have 
 absolutely no heart !" 
 
 " Do not be hard on him ; remember how he has been 
 brought up." 
 
 "You were brought up in like manner by two old 
 people." 
 
 " Ah ! but they loved me. Besides, my tutor and his 
 were as different as light and darkness." 
 
 " And your poor little sister," I said. 
 
 " She must have won his gratitude by her assistance. 
 He will have learnt to love her when he returns. Come, 
 ma mie, you must forgive him. If you knew what his 
 captivity was, you could not help it. He was the play- 
 fellow of my boyhood, and if I can help him to the more 
 noble path, my aid must not be wanting, either for his 
 sake or that of my sister."
 
 5^ STEAY PEAELS. [CHAP. 
 
 How wise and how noble these two years had made 
 my dear husband ; how unlike the raw lad I had met at 
 Whitehall ! It was the training in self-discipline that he 
 had given himself for my sake— yes, and for that of his 
 country and his God.
 
 VI.] VICTOEY DEARLY BOUGHT. 57 
 
 CHAPTEE YI. 
 
 VICTORY DEARLY BOUGHT. 
 
 No difficulty was made about enrolling the Chevalier 
 d'Aub^pine as a volunteer in the regiment of Conde, and 
 as to the lettre de cachet^ as my brother De Solivet said, 
 the Cardinal understood his game too well to send one to 
 bring back a youth who had rushed to place, himself 
 beneath the banners of his country in the hands of a 
 prince of the blood. 
 
 Indeed, we soon learned that there was no one to 
 pursue him. His grandfather had a stroke of apoplexy 
 in his rage on hearing of the arrest, and did not survive 
 it a week, so that he had become Count of Aubepine. 
 The same courier brought to my husband a letter from 
 his sister, which I thought very stiff and formal, all 
 except the conclusion : "Oh, my brother, I implore you on 
 my knees to watch over him and bring him back to me !" 
 
 Yet, as far as we knew and believed, the young man 
 had never written at all to his poor little wife. My 
 husband had insisted on his producing a letter to his
 
 68 STEAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 grandfather ; but as to his wife, he shrugged his shoulders, 
 said that she could see that he was safe, and that was 
 enough for her. 
 
 He was, in fact, like one intoxicated with the delights 
 of liberty and companionship. He enjoyed a certain 
 4clat from the manner of his coming, and was soon a 
 universal favourite among the officers. Unfortunately, the 
 influence and example there were not such as to lead him 
 to think more of his wife. The Duke of Enghien had 
 been married against his will to a poor little childish 
 creature, niece to Cardinal de Eichelieu, and he made it 
 the fashion to parade, not only neglect, but contempt, of 
 one's wife. He was the especial hero of our young 
 Count's adoration, and therefore it was the less wonder 
 that, when in the course of the winter the chaplain wrote 
 that the young Madame la Comtesse was in the most 
 imminent danger, after having given birth to the long- 
 desired son and heir, he treated the news with supreme 
 carelessness. "We should never have known whether she 
 lived or died, had not the courier, by whom M. de Bell- 
 aise wrote to her as well as to his uncle, brought 
 back one of her formal little letters, ill-spelt and un- 
 meaning, thanking Monsieur son frhre and Madame sa 
 femme for their goodness, and saying she was nearly 
 recovered. 
 
 " It cuts me to the heart to receive such letters," said 
 my husband, " and to feel how little I can be to her.
 
 VI.] VICTORY DEARLY BOUGHT. 59 
 
 Some day I hope I may know her better, and make her 
 feel what a brother means." 
 
 All this happened while we were in garrison for the 
 winter at Nancy. Again we offered M. d'Aub^pine a 
 room in our house; but though he was, in his way, fond 
 of my husband, and was polite to me, he thought a resi- 
 dence with us would interfere with his liberty, and, alas ! 
 his liberty consisted in plunging deeper and deeper into 
 dissipation, gambling, and all those other sports which 
 those about him made him think the privileges of man- 
 hood. We could do nothing; he laughed at M. de 
 Bellaise, and so indeed did these chosen friends of his. 
 I believe plenty of wit was expended on us and our 
 happy domestic life ; but what was that to us ? The 
 courage of M. de Bellaise was well known, and he had so 
 much good-temper and kindness that no one durst insult 
 him. 
 
 He was doubly tender to me that winter and spring 
 because the accounts from England were so sad. My 
 dear brother Berenger had been killed at the battle of 
 Alresford, and affairs looked very ill for the royal cause. 
 I wept for my brother ; but, ah ! those tears were as 
 nothing compared with what I was soon to shed. 
 
 The Duke of Enghien arrived. He was not to take 
 the command of the army of the Low Countries, but of 
 that of Germany. He came on the very day we had 
 heard of the loss of Ereiburg in Brisgau, and all was at
 
 60 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 once activity. I saw the inspection of the army just 
 outside the city, and a glorious sight it was ; bodies of 
 infantry moving like one great machine, squadrons of 
 cavalry looking invincible, all glittering with gold, and 
 their plumes waving, the blue and gold banners above 
 their heads ; and the dear regiment of Conde, whence 
 salutes from eye and hand came to me and my little 
 Gaspard as they rode past. 
 
 I did not tremble as in the last campaign. Ah ! 
 perhaps I did not pray so much. I heard of the crossing 
 of the Ehine at Brisach, and then came rumours of a 
 tremendous battle at Freiburg. The bells had only just 
 begun to ring, when Pierre, our groom, galloped into the 
 town, and sent up at once his packet. His master, he 
 said, was wounded, but not badly, and had covered him- 
 self with glory. I tore open the packet. There were a 
 few lines by his own dear hand : — 
 
 " My Heart — I shall be with thee soon to rest in thy 
 care. — D. G. Kiss our son. Thy B." 
 
 The rest of the packet was from my half-brother De 
 Solivet, and told how, in the frightful attack on the vine- 
 yard at Freiburg, seven times renewed, my dear, dear 
 Philippe had received a shot in the knee, just as he was 
 grasping a Bavarian standard, which he carried off with 
 him. He would have returned to the charge, but faint- 
 ness overpowered him, and he was supported on horse- 
 back from the field to the tent. The wound had been
 
 VI.] VICTORY DEARLY BOUGHT. 61 
 
 dressed, and the surgeon saw no occasion for alarm. M. 
 de Solivet, who had a slight wound himself, and M. 
 d'Aub^pine, v/ho was quite uninjured, though he had 
 done prodigies of valour, would tend him with all their 
 hearts. I had better send the carriage and horses at 
 once to bring him back, as the number of wounded was 
 frightful, and means of transport were wanting. Then 
 followed a message of express command from my husband 
 that I was not to think of coming with the carriage. He 
 would not have me at Freiburg on any account. 
 
 I submitted ; indeed I saw no cause for fear, and 
 even rejoiced that for a long time I should have my hus- 
 band to myself I made all ready for him, and taught 
 my little Gaspard now he would say : " Soyez le hienvenu, 
 mon papa." 
 
 So passed a week. Then one day there was a clank- 
 ing of spurs on the stairs ; I flew to the door and there 
 stood M. d'Aubepine. 
 
 "Is he near ?" I cried, and then I saw he was white 
 and trembling. 
 
 " Ah 1 no," he cried ; " he is at Brisach ! We could 
 bring him no farther. Can you come with me, Madame ? 
 He asks incessantly for you, and it might — it might be 
 that your coming may revive him." 
 
 And then this wild headstrong youth actually sank 
 into a chair, hid his face on the table, and sobbed as if 
 his heart would break.
 
 62 STRAY PEAELS. [CHAP. 
 
 I had no time for weeping then. I sent for the first 
 physician in Nancy, and offered him any sum in the 
 world to accompany me ; I had to make almost wild 
 efforts to procure a horse, and at last had to force one 
 from the governor by my importunities. I collected 
 wine and cordials, and whatever could be of service, and 
 after his first outburst my young brother-in-law helped 
 me in a way I can never forget. "No doubt the pestifer- 
 ous air caused by the horrible carnage of Freiburg had 
 poisoned the wound. As soon as possible my husband 
 was removed ; but the mischief had been already done ; 
 the wound was in a bad state, fever had set in, and 
 though he struggled on stage after stage, declaring that 
 he should be well when he saw me, the agony had been 
 such on the last day that they barely got him to Brisach, 
 and he there became delirious, so that M. de Solivet de- 
 cided on remaining with him, while the Count came on 
 to fetch me. He had ridden ever since four o'clock in 
 the morning, and yet was ready to set out again as soon 
 as my preparations were complete. Oh, I can never 
 overlook what he was to me on that journey ! 
 
 Hope kept us up through that dismal country — the 
 path of war, where instead of harvest on that August day 
 we saw down -trodden, half- burned wheat fields, where a 
 few wretched creatures were trying to glean a few ears 
 of wheat. Each village we passed showed only blackened 
 walls, save where at intervals a farmhouse had been
 
 VI.] VICTORY DEARLY BOUGHT. 63 
 
 repaired to serve as an estafette for couriers from the 
 French army. The desolation of the scene seemed to 
 impress itself on my soul, and destroy the hopes with 
 which I had set forth ; but on and on we went, till the 
 walls of Brisach rose before us. 
 
 He was in the governor's quarters, and only at the 
 door, I perceived that M. d'Aubepine had much doubted 
 whether we should find him alive. However, that one 
 consolation was mine. He knew me ; he smiled again 
 on me ; he called me by all his fondest names ; he said 
 that now he could rest. For twenty -four hours we 
 really thought that joy was working a cure. Alas ! 
 then he grew worse again, and when the pain left him, 
 mortification had set in, and we could only send for a 
 priest to administer the last Sacraments. 
 
 I am an old woman now, and what was then the 
 cruellest anguish touches me with pleasure when I think 
 how he called me his guardian angel, and thanked me 
 for having been his shield from temptation, placing his 
 son in my sole charge, and commending his sister and his 
 old uncle to me — his poor little sister whose lot seemed 
 to grieve him so much. He talked to the Count, who 
 wept, tore his hair, and made promises, which he really 
 then intended to execute, and which at least comforted 
 my Philippe. 
 
 The good priest who attended him said, he had never 
 seen anything more edifying or beautiful, and that he had
 
 64 STKAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 never heard the confession of a military man showing a 
 purer heart, more full of holy love, trust, and penitence. 
 There was a great peace upon us all, as his life ebbed 
 away, and even the Count stood silent and awestruck. 
 They took me away at last. I remember nothing but 
 the priest telling me that my husband was in Paradise. 
 
 I felt as if it were all a dream, and when presently 
 my brother came and took my hand, I cried out : " Oh, 
 wake me ! wake me ! " And when he burst into tears I 
 asked what he meant. 
 
 Looking back now I can see how very kind he was 
 to me, though I made little return, being altogether be- 
 wildered by the sudden strangeness of my first grief. 
 Poor M. de Solivet ! he must have had a heavy charge, 
 for Armand d'Aubepine w^as altogether frantic with grief, 
 and did nothing to help him, wdiile I could not weep, 
 and sat like a statue, hardly knowing what they said to 
 me. ISTay, when the tidings came that my father had 
 been killed in the battle of Marston Moor three weeks 
 before, I was too dull and dead to grieve. Eustace had 
 written to my husband in order that he might prepare 
 me ; I opened the letter, and all that I can remember 
 feeling was that I had no one to shield me. 
 
 I had but one wish and sense of duty at that moment, 
 namely, to carry home those dear remains to the resting- 
 place of his fathers in Anjou, where I hope myself to rest. 
 It was of no use to tell me that all places would be alike
 
 VI.] VICTORY DEAELY BOUGHT. 65 
 
 to my Philippe when we should awake on the Eesurrec- 
 tion day. I was past reason, and was possessed with a 
 feeling that it would be sacrilege to leave him among the 
 countless unnamed graves of the wounded who, like him, 
 had struggled as far as Brisach to die. I fancied I should 
 not be able to find him, and, besides, it was an enemy's 
 country ! I believe opposition made me talk wildly and 
 terrify my brother ; at any rate, he swore to me that the 
 thing should be done, if only I would return to Nancy 
 and to my child. I fancied, most unjustly, that this was 
 meant to deceive me, and get me out of the way while 
 they buried him whom I loved so much, and I refused 
 to stir without the coffin. 
 
 How my brother contrived it, I do not know, but the 
 thing was done, and though it was but a cart that carried 
 the coffin to Nancy, I was pacified. 
 
 At Nancy he arranged matters more suitably. Here 
 M. d'Aubepine, in floods of tears, took leave of me to 
 return to the army, and M. de Solivet, whose wound dis- 
 abled him from active service, undertook to escort me 
 and my precious convoy to Anjou. 
 
 It was a long tedious journey, and my heart beats 
 with gratitude to him when I think what he undertook 
 for me, and how dreary it must have been for him, while 
 I was too dead and dull to thank him, though I hope my 
 love and confidence evinced my gratitude in after life. 
 
 My dearest went first in a hearse drawn by mules, as 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 STEAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 was also my large carriage, — that which we had so joy- 
 ously bought together, saying it would be like a kind of 
 tent on our travels. I travelled in it with my child and 
 my women, and M. de Solivet rode with our men-servants. 
 Our pace was too slow for the fatigue to be too much for 
 him, and he always preceded me to every place where we 
 halted to eat, or where we lodged for the night, and had 
 everything ready without a thought or a word being need- 
 ful from me. He always stood ready to give me his 
 arm to take me to hear mass before we set out each day. 
 The perfect calm, and the quiet moving on, began to do 
 me good. I felt as if the journey had always been going 
 on, and only wished it were endless, for when it was 
 over I should feel my desolation, and have no more to 
 do for my Philippe. But I began to respond to my poor 
 boy's caresses and playfulness a little more ; I was not 
 so short and maussade with my women or with my good 
 brother, and I tried to pray at mass. My brother has 
 since told me that he never felt more relieved in his life 
 than once when he made little Gaspard bring me some 
 blue corn-flowers and wheat, which reminded me of my 
 English home, so that I began to weep so profusely, that 
 he carried away the poor frightened child, and left me to 
 Tryphena. 
 
 One afternoon at a little village there was a look of 
 festival ; the bells were ringing, everybody was hurrying 
 to the church, and when we stopped at the door of the
 
 VI.] - VICTOKY DEARLY BOUGHT. 67 
 
 inn my brother came to the carriage-window and said 
 he was afraid that we should not find it easy to proceed 
 at once, for a mission priest was holding a station, and 
 no one seemed able to attend to anything else. 
 
 " He is a true saint ! he is just about to preach," said 
 the landlady, who had come out with her gayest apron, 
 her whitest cap, and all her gold chains. " Ah ! the 
 poor lady, it would do her heart good to hear him preach ; 
 and by that time the roast would be ready — an admir- 
 able piece of venison, sent for the occasion. There he is, 
 the blessed man ! " 
 
 And as I had just alighted from the carriage, for our 
 mules had made a double stage and could not go farther, 
 I saw coming from the presbyUre three or four priests, 
 with the sexton and the serving boys. One of them, 
 a spare thin man, with a little bronze crucifix in his 
 hand, paused as he saw the hearse drawn up, clasped his 
 hands in prayer, and then lifted them in benediction of 
 him who lay within. I saw his face, and there was in 
 it an indescribable heavenly sweetness and pity which 
 made me say to my brother : " I must go and hear him." 
 
 My brother was so glad to hear me express any 
 wish, that I believe, if I had asked to go and dance on 
 the village green, he would almost have permitted it ; and 
 leaving my little one to play in the garden under Try- 
 phena's care, he gave me his arm, and we went into the 
 church, crowded — crowded so that we could hardly find
 
 68 STKAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 room ; but my deep mourning made the good people 
 respectfully make place for us and give us chairs. 
 
 Ah ! that sermon ! I cannot tell you it in detail ; 
 I only know that it gave the strongest sense of healing 
 balm to my sore heart, and seemed in a wonderful way 
 to lift me up into the atmosphere where my Philippe 
 was gone, making me feel that what kept me so far — 
 far from him was not death, nor his coffin, but my own 
 thick husk of sin and worldliness. Much more there 
 was, which seems now to have grown into my very soul ; 
 and by the time it was over I was weeping tears no 
 longer bitter, and feeling nothing so much as the need to 
 speak to that priest. 
 
 M. de Solivet promised that I should, but we had 
 long to wait, for the saintly Abbe de Paul would not 
 postpone the poor to the rich ; nor could my grief claim 
 the precedence, for I was not the only broken-hearted 
 young widow in France, nor even in that little village. 
 
 I cannot be grateful enough to my brother that he 
 put up with all the inconveniences of sleeping at this 
 little village, that I might carry out what he thought a 
 mere woman's enthusiastic fancy : but in truth it was 
 everything to me. After vespers the holy man was able 
 to give me an hour in the church, and verily it was the 
 opening of new life to me. Since my light had been 
 taken from me, all had been utter desolate darkness before 
 me. He put a fresh light before me, which now, after
 
 VI.] VICTORY DEARLY BOUGHT. 69 
 
 fifty years, I know to have been the dawn of better sun- 
 shine than even that which had brightened my youth — 
 and I thank my good God, who has never let me entirely 
 lose sight of it. 
 
 Very faint, almost disappointing, it seemed to me 
 then. I came away from my interview feeling as if it 
 had been vain to think there could be any balm for a 
 crushed heart, and yet when I awoke the next morning, 
 and dressed myself to hear mass before resuming my 
 journey, it was with the sense that there I should meet 
 a friend and comforter. And when I looked at my little 
 son, it was not only with dreary passionate pity for the 
 unconscious orphan, but with a growing purpose to bring 
 him up as his father's special charge, — nay, as that from 
 even a greater and nearer than my Philippe. 
 
 While, as we journeyed on, I gradually dwelt less on 
 how piteous my arrival would be for myself, and thought 
 more and more of its sadness for the poor old Marquis 
 who had loved his nephew so much, till, instead of 
 merely fearing to reach Nid de Merle, I began to look for- 
 ward to it, and consider how to comfort the poor old 
 man ; for had not my husband begged me to be the staff 
 of his old age, and to fill a daughter's place to him ?
 
 70 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 WIDOW AND WIFE 
 
 We had avoided Paris, coming through Troyes and 
 Orleans, and thus our sad strange journey lasted a full 
 month. Poor old M. de Nidemerle had, of course, been 
 prepared for our coming, and he came out in his coach to 
 meet us at the cross-roads. My brother saw the mourn- 
 ing liveries approaching, and gave me notice. I descended 
 from my carriage, intending to go to him in liis, but 
 he anticipated me ; and there, in the middle of the road, 
 the poor old man embraced me, weeping floods of pas- 
 sionate tears of grief. He was a small man, shrunk with 
 age, and I found him clinging to me so like a child that 
 I felt an almost motherly sense of protection and tender- 
 ness towards his forlorn old age ; but my English shyness 
 was at the moment distressed at the sense of all the 
 servants staring at such a meeting, and I cried out: " Oh, 
 sir ! you should not have come thus." " What can I do, 
 but show all honour to the heroic wife of my dear child? " 
 sobbed he ; and, indeed, I found afterwards that my per-
 
 VII.] WIDOW AND WIFE. 71 
 
 sistence in bringing home my dearest to the tombs of 
 his forefathers had won for me boundless gratitude and 
 honour. They took the hearse to the church of the 
 convent at Bellaise, where its precious burthen was to 
 rest. The obsequies, requiem, and funeral mass were to 
 take place the next day, and in the meantime I accom- 
 panied the Marquis to the chateau, and we spent the 
 evening and great part of the night in talking of him 
 whom we had both loved so dearly, and in weeping 
 together. 
 
 Then came the solemn and mournful day of the 
 funeral. I was taken early to the convent, where, among 
 the nuns behind the grille, I might assist at these last 
 rites. 
 
 Thickly veiled, I looked at no one except that I 
 curtsied my thanks to the Abbess before kneeling down 
 by the grating looking into the choir. My grief had 
 always been too deep for tears, and on that day I was 
 blessed in a certain exaltation of thoughts which bore me 
 onward amid the sweet chants to follow my Philippe, my 
 brave, pure-hearted, loving warrior, into his rest in Para- 
 dise, and to think of the worship that he was sharing 
 there. 
 
 So I knelt quite still, but by and by I was sensible 
 of a terrible paroxysm of weeping from some one close to 
 me. I could scarcely see more than a black form when 
 I glanced round, but it seemed to me that it was sinking ;
 
 72 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 I put out my arm in support, and I found a head on my 
 shoulder. I knew who it must be — my husband's poor 
 little sister, Madame d'Aubepine, and I held my arm 
 round her, with an impulse of affection, as something 
 that was his ; but before all was over, I was sure that she 
 was becoming faint, and at last I only moved just in 
 time to receive her in my lap and arms, as she sank 
 down nearly, if not quite, unconscious. 
 
 I tore back the heavy veil that was suffocating her, 
 and saw a tiny thin white face, not half so large as my 
 little Gaspard's round rosy one. Numbers of black forms 
 hovered about with water and essences ; and one tall 
 figure bent to lift the poor child from me, apologising 
 with a tone of reproof, and declaring that Madame la 
 Comtesse was ashamed to inconvenience Madame. 
 
 " No," I said ; " one sister could not inconvenience 
 another," and I felt the feeble hand stealing round my 
 waist, and saw a sort of smile on the thin little lips, 
 which brought back one look of my Philippe's. I threw 
 off my own veil, and raised her in my arms so as to kiss 
 her, and in that embrace I did indeed gain a sister. 
 
 I did not heed the scolding and the murmuring; I 
 lifted her ; she was very small, and light as a feather ; 
 and I was not merely tall, but very strong, so I carried 
 her easily to a chamber, which one of the nuns opened 
 for us, and laid her on the bed. She clung to me, and 
 when some one brought wine, I made her drink it, and
 
 VII.] WIDOW AND WIFE. 73 
 
 prayed that they would leave us to ourselves a little 
 while. 
 
 I know now that nothing but the privileges of my 
 position on that day would have prevailed to get that 
 grim and terrible dame de compagnie out of the room. 
 However, we were left alone, and the first thing the poor 
 young thing did when she could speak or move, was to 
 throw herself into my arms and cry : 
 
 " TeU me of him ! " 
 
 " He sent his love. He commended you to me," I 
 began. 
 
 " Did he ? Oh, my dear hero ! And how is he looking?" 
 
 So it was of her husband, not her brother, that she 
 was thinking. It gave me a pang, and yet I could not 
 wonder ; and alas, d'Aubepine had not given me any 
 message at all for her. However, I told her what 1 
 thought would please her — of his handsome looks, and 
 his favour with the Duke of Enghien, and her great dark 
 eyes began to shine under their tear-swollen lids ; but 
 before long, that terrible woman knocked at the door 
 again to say that Madame la Comtesse's carriage was 
 ready, and that M. le Marquis awaited Madame la 
 Vicomtesse. 
 
 We arranged our disordered dress, and went down 
 hand-in-hand. The Marquis and the Abbess both em- 
 braced the poor little Countess, and I assured her that we 
 would meet again, and be much together.
 
 74 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 "Madame la Comtesse will do herself the honour of 
 paying her respects to Madame la Vicomtesse," said the 
 dame de com'pagnie, " since Madame la Comtesse Doua- 
 ri^re is confined to her room, and prays to be excused." 
 
 Therewith she swept the poor little lady off with her, 
 much like a child in disgrace ; walking behind, indeed, 
 but as if she was driving her. 
 
 When, in the evening, I asked the Marquis who she 
 was, and M. de Solivet added that she looked fit to be a 
 sergeant of dragoons, the old gentleman said that she was 
 Mademoiselle de Gringrimeau, a lady of a Huguenot 
 family, who had, since her conversion, lived as dame de 
 com'pagnie with the elder Madame d'Aubepine, and had 
 regulated her household of late years. 
 
 " I congratulate myself on not belonging to that 
 respectable household," said my brother. 
 
 M. de Nidemerle laughed, and said the good lady had 
 brought with her a fair share of Calvinist severity. In 
 fact, it was reported that her conversion had been stimu- 
 lated by the hope that she should be endowed with her 
 family property, and bestowed in marriage on the young 
 d'Aubepine, the father of the present youth, and that dis- 
 appointment in both these expectations had embittered 
 her life. I was filled with pity for my poor little sister- 
 in-law, who evidently was under her yoke ; and all the 
 more when, a day or two later, the two ladies came in 
 great state to pay me a visit of ceremony, and I saw how
 
 VII.] WIDOW AND WIFE. 75 
 
 pale and thin was the little Countess, and how cowed she 
 seemed by the tall and severe duenna. 
 
 Little Gaspard was trotting about. The Marquis was 
 delighted with the child, and already loved him passion- 
 ately ; and the little fellow was very good, and could 
 amuse himself without troubling any one. 
 
 He took refuge with me from Mademoiselle de Grin- 
 grimeau ; but as I held him to kiss his aunt, her eyes 
 filled with tears ; and when I asked whether her little 
 girl could walk as well as he did, she faltered so that I 
 was startled, fearing that the child might have died and 
 I not have heard of it. 
 
 " She is out at nurse," at last she murmured. 
 
 " Children are best at farms," said Mademoiselle de 
 Gringrimeau ; " Madame la Comtesse Douariere is not to 
 be incommoded." The old man held out his arms to my 
 little boy, and said something of his being a pleasure 
 instead of an inconvenience ; but though the lady 
 answered politely, she looked so severe that my poor 
 child hid his face on my bosom and began to cry, by way 
 of justifying her. 
 
 However, when she was gone, both the gentlemen 
 agreed that the little fellow was quite right, and showed 
 his sense, and that if they had been only two years old, 
 they would have cried too. 
 
 That was all in my favour when I entreated M. de 
 Mdemerle to let me have a visit from my sister-in-law,
 
 76 STRAY PEAELS. [CHAP. 
 
 — not a mere call of ceremony, but a stay at the chateau 
 long enough for me to get acquainted with her. Xot 
 only was she the only sister of my dear Philippe, but 
 the Marquis, her uncle, was her guardian and only 
 near relative, so that he had a right to insist, more 
 especially as the old Countess was imbecile and bed- 
 ridden. 
 
 I think he felt towards me much as he would have 
 done if he had been shut up in a room with Gaspard, 
 ready to give me anything I begged for, provided I would 
 not cry. He was very good to me, and I could not but 
 be sorry for the poor, bereaved, broken old man, and try 
 to be a daughter to him ; and thus our relations were 
 very different from what they had been on our journey 
 to Paris together in the coach. At any rate, he pro- 
 mised me that I should be gratified, and the day after 
 my brother left us, he actually went over to Chateau 
 d'Aubepine, and brought off his niece in the carriage with 
 him, presenting her to me in the hall like the spoils of 
 war. She was frightened, formal, and ceremonious all 
 supper time, but I thought she was beginning to thaw, 
 and was more afraid of the Marquis than of me. We 
 played at cards all the evening, the anH being sent for 
 to make up the set, and now and then I caught her great 
 eyes looking at me wistfully ; indeed, I was obliged to 
 avoid them lest they should make me weep ; for it was 
 almost the look that my Philippe used to cast on me in
 
 VII.] WIDOW AND WIFE. 77 
 
 those early days when we had not begun to know one 
 another. 
 
 At last we went up to bed. The rooms were all en 
 suite, and I had given her one opening into mine, telling 
 her we would never shut the door save when she wished 
 it. I saw her gazing earnestly at her brother's portrait 
 and all the precious little objects consecrated to his 
 memory, which I had arranged by my hSnitier and 
 crucifix, but I did not expect her first exclamation, when 
 our woman had left us : " Ah, Madame ! how happy you 
 are ! " 
 
 "I was once !" I sighed. 
 
 " Ah ! but you are happy. You have your child, and 
 your husband loved you." 
 
 " But your husband lives, and your children are 
 well." 
 
 " That may be. I never see them. I have only seen 
 my daughter twice, and my son once, since they were 
 born. They will not let them come to the chateau, and 
 they say there is no road to the farms." 
 
 " We will see to that," I said, and I made her tell 
 me where they were ; but she knew no more of distances 
 than I did, never going anywhere save in the great family 
 coach. Poor child ! when I called her Cecile, she burst 
 into tears, and said no one had called her by that name 
 since she had left her friend Amelie in the convent, and as 
 to calling me Marguerite, Mademoiselle de Gringrimeau
 
 78 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 would be sure to say it was hoitrgeols and ill-bred to use 
 familiar names, but then we need never let her hear us. 
 
 I took the poor little forlorn creature to sleep with 
 me, and then, and in the course of the next day or two, 
 the whole sad state of things came before me. 
 
 The little C^cile de Bellaise had been carried to a 
 convent at Angers from the farm that she could just 
 remember. Here she had spent all the happy days of 
 her life. The nuns were not strict, and they must have 
 been very ignorant, for they had taught her nothing but 
 her prayers, a little reading, some writing, very bad ortho- 
 graphy, embroidery, and heraldry; but they were very 
 good-natured, and had a number of jpeiisionnaires who 
 seemed to have all run wild together in the corridors and 
 gardens, and played all sorts of tricks on the nuns. 
 Sometimes C^cile told me some of these, and very un- 
 edifying they were, — acting ghosts in the passages, 
 fastening up the cell doors, ringing the bells at uneartlily 
 hours, putting brushes or shoes in the beds, and the like 
 practical jokes. 
 
 Suddenly, from the midst of these wild sports, while 
 still a mere child under fourteen, Cecile was summoned 
 to be married to Armand d'Aub^pine, who was two years 
 older, and was taken at once to Chateau d'Aubepine. 
 
 There was no more play for her ; she had to sit 
 upright embroidering under the eyes of Madame la Com- 
 tesse and of Mademoiselle de Gringrimeau ; nor did she
 
 VII.] WIDOW AND WIFE. 79 
 
 ever go out of doors except for a turn on the terrace with 
 the ladies, or a drive in the great coach. Of course they 
 were disappointed in having such a little unformed being 
 on their hands, but they must have forgotten that they 
 had ever been young themselves, when they forced her to 
 conform rigidly to the life that suited them, and which 
 they thought the only decorous thing for a lady of any 
 age. 
 
 There was nothing else that was young near her ex- 
 cept her husband, and he thought her an ugly little thing, 
 and avoided her as much as possible. He had expected 
 to be freed from his tutor on his marriage, and when he 
 was disappointed, he was extremely displeased, and mani- 
 fested his wrath by neglect of her. His governor must 
 have been a very different one from my dear husband's 
 beloved abbe, for I know that if I had been five times 
 as ugly and stupid as I was, my Philippe would have 
 tried to love me, because it was his duty — and have been 
 kind to me, because he could not be unkind to any one. 
 But the Chevalier d'Aubepine had never learnt to care 
 for any one's pleasure but his own ; he was angry at, and 
 ashamed of, the wife who had been imposed on him ; he 
 chafed and raged at not being permitted to join the army 
 and see the world; and in the meantime he, with the 
 connivance of his governor, from time to time escaped at 
 night to Saumur, and joined in the orgies of the young 
 officers in garrison there.
 
 80 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 Nevertheless, through all his neglect, Cecile loved him 
 with a passionate, faithful adoration, surpassing all words, 
 just as I have seen a poor dog follow faithfully a savage 
 master who gives him nothing but blows. She never 
 said a word of complaint to me of him. All I gathered 
 of this was from her simple self-betrayals, or from others, 
 or indeed what I knew of himself ; but the whole susten- 
 ance of that young heart had been his few civil words 
 at times when he could make her useful to him. I am 
 persuaded, too, that Mademoiselle de Gringrimeau exer- 
 cised her spite in keeping the two young creatures from 
 any childish or innocent enjoyments that might have 
 drawn them together. If etiquette were the idol of that 
 lady, I am sure that spite flavoured the incense she burned 
 to it. 
 
 I think, if I had been in Cecile's position, I should 
 either have gone mad, or have died under the restraint 
 and dreariness ; but she lived on in the dull dream of 
 half-comprehended wretchedness, and gave birth to her 
 daughter, but without being in the least cheered, for a 
 peasant woman was in waiting, who carried the child off 
 while she was still too much exhausted to have even 
 kissed it. All she obtained was universal murmuring at 
 the sex of the poor little thing. It seemed the climax 
 of all her crimes, which might be involuntary, but for 
 which she was made to suffer as much as if they had been 
 her fault.
 
 Vli.] WIDOW AND WIFE. 81 
 
 Her husband was more displeased than any one else ; 
 above all when he heard the news of Eocroy ; and then 
 it was that he devised the scheme of running away, and 
 in discussing it with her became more friendly than ever 
 before. Of course it was dreadful to her that he should 
 go to the war, but the gratification of helping him, keep- 
 ing his secret, plotting with him, getting a few careless 
 thanks and promises, carried the day, and bore her 
 through the parting. " He really did embrace me of his 
 own accord," said the poor young creature ; and it was 
 on that embrace that she had ever since lived, in hope 
 that when they should meet again he might find it possible 
 to give her a few shreds of affection. 
 
 Of course, when she was found to have been cog- 
 nisant of his departure, she was in the utmost disgrace. 
 Eage at his evasion brought on the fit of apoplexy which 
 cost the old count his life ; and the blame was so laid 
 upon her, not only by Mademoiselle de Gringrimeau, but 
 by Madame and by her confessor, that she almost believed 
 herself a sort of parricide ; and she had not yet com- 
 pleted the course of penitential exercises- that had been 
 imposed on her. 
 
 By the time — more than half a year later — her son 
 was born, the old countess had become too childish to be 
 gratified for more than a moment. Indeed, poor Cecile 
 herself was so ill that she survived only by a wonder, 
 since no one cared whether she lived or died, except her 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 own maid, who watched over her tenderly, and gave her, 
 when she could read it, a letter from her husband upon 
 the joyful news. She wore that letter, such as it was, 
 next her heart, and I never told her how my husband 
 had absolutely stood over him while he wrote it. 
 
 So she recovered, if it can be called recovery — for her 
 health had been shattered by all this want of the most 
 common care and consideration ; she was very weak and 
 nervous, and suffered constantly from headache, and her 
 looks were enough to break one's heart. I suppose 
 nothing could have made her beautiful, but she had a 
 strange, worn, blighted, haggard, stunted look, quite dread- 
 ful for one not yet eighteen ; she was very short, and 
 fearfully thin and pale, but out of the sad little face there 
 looked my Philippe's eyes, and now and then his 
 smile. 
 
 After talking till late I fell asleep, and when I woke 
 to dress for morning mass, I found that she had not slept 
 at all, and had a frightful headache. I bade her lie still 
 till I came back, and she seemed hardly able to believe 
 in such luxury. Mademoiselle said nothing but resolu- 
 tion was wanting to shake off a headache. 
 
 " Have you found it so ? " I asked. 
 
 " At any rate, it is better than the doses Mademoiselle 
 gives me," she said. 
 
 " You shall try my remedy this time," I said ; and I 
 set out for the little village church, which stood at the
 
 VII.] WIDOW AND WIFE. 83 
 
 garden-gate, with a fixed determination that this state of 
 things — slow torture and murder, as it seemed to me — 
 should not go on. If one work bequeathed to me by my 
 dear Philippe was to take care of his uncle, another surely 
 was to save and protect his sister.
 
 84 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 MARGUERITE TO THE RESCUE. 
 
 It was in my favour that M. cle Mdemerle had conceived 
 a very high opinion of me, far above my deserts. My 
 dear husband's letters had been full of enthusiasm for me. 
 I found them all among the Marquis's papers ; and his 
 tenderness and gratitude, together with the circumstances 
 of my return, had invested me with a kind of halo, which 
 made me a sort of heroine in his eyes. 
 
 Besides, I did my best to make the old man's life 
 more cheerful. I read him the Gazette that came once a 
 week, I played at cards with him all the evening, and I 
 sometimes even wrote or copied his letters on business ; 
 and, when I sat at my embroidery, he liked to come and 
 sit near me, sometimes talking, playing with Gaspard, or 
 dozing. He was passionately fond of Gaspard, and let 
 the child domineer over him in a way that sometimes 
 shocked me. 
 
 Thus he was ready to believe what I told him of his 
 niece, and assured me I might keep her with me as
 
 viil] maeguerite to the eescue. 85 
 
 long as I wished, if the Countess, her mother-in-law, 
 would consent. The first thing we did together was that 
 I took her to see her children. The boy was at a farm 
 not very far off; he was seven months old, and a fine 
 healthy infant, though not as clean as I could have wished ; 
 but then Tryphena and I had been looked on as bar- 
 barians, who would certainly be the death of Gaspard, 
 because we washed him all over every evening, and let 
 him use his legs and arms. Cecile was enchanted ; she 
 saw an extraordinary resemblance between her son and 
 his father ; and hugged the little swaddled form like one 
 who had been famished. 
 
 Our search for the little Armantine was less prosper- 
 ous. Cecile could not ride, nor could even walk a quarter 
 of a mile without nearly dying of fatigue ; nay, the jolt- 
 ing of the coach as we drove along the road would have 
 been insupportable to her but for her longing to see her 
 little one. We drove till it was impossible to get the 
 coach any farther, and still the farm was only just in 
 sight. 
 
 I jumped out and said I would bring the child to her, 
 and I went up between the hedges with two lackeys 
 behind me, till I came to a farmyard, where three or 
 four children, muddy up to the very eyes, were quarrel- 
 ling and playing with the water of a stagnant pool. I 
 made my way through animals, dogs, and children, to the 
 farm kitchen, where an old grandmother and a beggar sat
 
 86 STEAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 on two chairs opposite to one another,' on each side of the 
 fire, and a young woman was busy over some raw joints 
 of an animal. They stared at me with open mouths, 
 and when I said that Madame la Comtesse d'Aubepine 
 was come to see her child, and was waiting in the car- 
 riage, they looked as if such a thing had never been heard 
 of before. The young woman began to cry — the old 
 woman to grumble. I think if they had dared, they 
 would have flown into a passion, and I was really alarmed 
 lest the child might be sick or even dead. I told them 
 impressively who I was, and demanded that they would 
 instantly show me the little one. 
 
 The young woman, muttering something, stepped out 
 and brought in her arms the very dirtiest child of the 
 whole group I had left in the gutter, with the whole tribe 
 behind her. My first impulse was to snatch it up and 
 carry it away to its mother, taking it home at once to 
 Nid de Merle ; but it squalled and kicked so violently 
 when I held out my arms to it, that it gave me time to 
 think that to carry it thus away without authority might 
 only bring Cecile into trouble with those who had the 
 mastery over her, and that to see it in such a condition 
 could only give her pain. I should not have objected to 
 the mere surface dirt of grubbing in the farmyard (shock- 
 ing as it may sound to you, Mademoiselles mes Petites 
 Filles). Eustace and I had done such things at Walwyn 
 and been never the worse for it; but this poor little
 
 VIII.] MAEGUERITE TO THE RESCUE. 87 
 
 creature had a wretched, unwholesome, neglected air 
 about her that made me miserable, and the making her 
 fit to be seen would evidently be a long business, such as 
 could hardly be undertaken in the midst of the salting of 
 a pig, which was going on. 
 
 I therefore promised the woman a crown if she would 
 make the child tidy and bring her to Md de Merle on 
 the Sunday. Something was muttered about Mademoiselle 
 having said the child was not to be constantly brought to 
 the house to incommode Madame la Comtesse ; but I 
 made her understand that I meant Nid de Merle, and 
 trusted that the hope of the money would be a bait. 
 
 Cecile was sorely disappointed when I returned with- 
 out the child, and conjured me at once to tell her the 
 worst, if it were indeed dead ; but she let herself be 
 pacified by the hope of seeing it on Sunday, and indeed 
 she was half dead with fatigue from the roughness of the 
 road. 
 
 The child was duly brought by the foster-mother, 
 who was in the full costume of a prosperous peasant, with 
 great gold cross and gay apron ; but I was not better 
 satisfied about the little one, though she had a cleaner 
 face, cap, and frock. Unused to the sight of black, she 
 would let neither of us touch her, and we could only look 
 at her, when she sat on her nurse's knee with a cake in 
 her hand. I was sure she was unhealthy and uncared 
 for, her complexion and everything about her showed it,
 
 68 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 and my Gaspard was twice her size. It was well for 
 tlie peace of the young mother that she knew so little 
 what a child ought to be like, and that her worst grief was 
 that the little Armantine would not go to her. 
 
 " And oh ! they will send her straight into a convent 
 as soon as she is weaned, and I shall never have her with 
 me ! " sighed C^cile. 
 
 " Onr Oyi had done many harsh things towards my 
 poor little sister-in-law, and I began now to consider of 
 whom on now consisted. It seemed to me to be only 
 Mademoiselle de Gringrimeau acting in the name of the 
 doting Countess and the absent husband, and that one 
 resolute effort might emancipate the poor young thing. 
 
 I was still considering the matter, and rallying my 
 forces, when a message came from the Chateau I'Aube that 
 Madame la Douariere was dying, and Madame la Comtesse 
 must return instantly. I went with her ; I could not let 
 her return alone to Mademoiselle's tender mercies, and 
 the Marquis approved and went with us. In fact, the two 
 chateaux were not two miles apart, through the lanes 
 and woods, though the way by the road was much 
 longer. 
 
 The old Countess lingered another day and then ex- 
 pired. Before the funeral ceremonies were over, I had 
 seen how Mademoiselle de Gringrimeau tyrannised over 
 this young sister-in-law, who was still a mere gentle child, 
 and was absolutely cowed by the woman. When I tried
 
 VIII.] MARGUERITE TO THE RESCUE. 39 
 
 to take her home with me, Mademoiselle had the effrontery 
 to say that the Count himself, as well as the late dowager, 
 had given her authority over Madame as dame de comjpagnie, 
 and that she did not consider it etiqiidte, to visit after so 
 recent a bereavement, thus decidedly hitting at me. 
 
 However, I had made up my mind. I entreated my 
 poor weeping Cecile to hold out yet a little longer in 
 hope ; and then I returned home to lay the whole 
 situation before the Marquis, and to beg him to assert his 
 authority as uncle, and formally request that she might 
 reside under his protection while her husband was with 
 the army — a demand which could hardly fail to be granted. 
 
 I wrote also to M. d'Aubepine, over whom I thought 
 I had some influence, and added likewise a letter to my 
 half-brother De Solivet, explaining the situation, and en- 
 treating him to get the young gentleman into his lodgings, 
 and not let him out till he had written his letters, signed 
 and sealed them ! 
 
 The plan answered. In due time our courier returned, 
 and with all we wanted in the way of letters, with one 
 great exception, alas 1 any true sign of tenderness for the 
 young wife. There was a formal letter for her, telling 
 her to put herself and her children under the charge 
 of her uncle and her brother's widow, leaving the charge 
 of the chateau and servants to the intendant and to 
 Mademoiselle de Gringrimeau. The poor child had to 
 imbibe what her yearning heart could extract from the
 
 90 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 conventional opening and close. I have my share of the 
 
 budget still, and here it is : — 
 
 "Madame — You still love to play your part of beneficent 
 angel, and wish to take on your shoulders my impedimenta. "Well, 
 be it so then ; though I have no hope that you \yi\l make thereof 
 {en) anything like yourself. Kissing your hands, 
 
 " Le Comte d'Aubepine." 
 
 His whole family was thus disposed of in two letters 
 of the alphabet (en). 
 
 M. de Nidemerle received a polite request to undertake 
 the charge of his niece, and Mademoiselle had likewise 
 her orders, and I heard from my brother how he had 
 smiled at my commands, but had found them necessary, 
 for Armand d'Aubepine had been exactly like a naughty 
 boy forced to do a task. N'ot that he had the smallest 
 objection to his wife and children being with me — in fact, 
 he rather preferred it; he only hated being troubled about 
 the matter, wanted to go to a match at tennis, and thought 
 it good taste to imitate the Duke of Enghien in contempt 
 for the whole subject. Would he ever improve ? My 
 brother did not give much present hope of it, saying that 
 on returning to winter quarters he had found the lad 
 plunged all the deeper in dissipation for want of the 
 check that my dear husband had been able to impose on 
 him ; but neither M. de Solivet nor the Marquis took it 
 seriously, thinking it only what every youth in the army 
 went through, unless he were such a wonderful exception 
 as my dear Philippe had been.
 
 VIII.] MARGUERITE TO THE RESCUE. 91 
 
 Cecile could hardly believe that such peace and com- 
 fort were in store for her, and her tyrant looked as gloomy 
 as Erebus at losing her slave, but we did not care for 
 that ; we brought her home in triumph, and a fortnight's 
 notice was given to the foster-mother in which to wean 
 Mademoiselle d'Aubepine and bring her to Md de Merle. 
 
 That fortnight was spent by our guest in bed. As 
 if to justify Mademoiselle de Gringrimeau, she was no 
 sooner under my care than she had a sharp illness; but 
 Tryphena, who had been so instructed by my grand- 
 mother, Lady Walwyn, as to be more skilful than any 
 doctor, declared that it was in consequence of the long 
 disregard of health and strain of spirits, and so managed 
 her that, though never strong, she improved much in 
 health, and therewith in looks. Beautiful she could hardly 
 be, as the world counts beauty, but to me her sweet, 
 tender, wistful expression made her countenance most 
 lovable, and so did her gentle unmurmuring humility. 
 She sincerely believed that all the cruel slights she under- 
 went were the result of her own ugliness, stupidity, and 
 ignorance, and instead of blaming her husband, she merely 
 pitied him for being tied to her. As to granting that her 
 brother had been a better man than her husband, she 
 would have thought that high treason — the difference 
 was only that her dear Marguerite was so pretty, so clever, 
 amiable, and well taught, that she had won his heart. 
 
 In truth, I had outgrown the ungainliness of my girl-
 
 92 STRAY, PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 lioocl, and, now that it did not matter to any one, had 
 become rather a handsome woman, and it was of no use 
 to tell her that I had been worse than she, because there 
 was so much more of me, when my dear young husband 
 gave me the whole of his honest heart. 
 
 To make herself, at least, less dull was her next 
 desire. One reason why she had so seldom written was 
 that she knew she could not spell, and Mademoiselle 
 insisted on looking over her letters that they might not 
 be a disgrace. I doubted whether M. le Comte would 
 have discovered the errors, but when the Marquis praised 
 some letters that I had written to amuse him from Xancy 
 and Mezieres, she was fired with ambition to write such 
 clever letters as might bewitch her husband. Besides, 
 if she could teach her daughter, the child need not be 
 banished to a convent. 
 
 I began to give her a few lessons in the morning, and 
 to read to her. And just then there came to Nid de 
 Merle, to see me, the good Abbe Bonchamp, the excellent 
 tutor to whom my dear Philippe always said he owed so 
 much. The good man had since had another employ- 
 ment, and on quitting it, could not help gratifying his 
 desire to come and see the wife and child of his dear 
 pupil, as indeed I had begged him to do, if ever it were 
 in his power, when I fulfilled my husband's wishes by 
 writing his last greeting and final thanks to the good 
 •man.
 
 VIII.] MAEGUEEITE TO THE RESCUE. 93 
 
 I remember the dear quaint form riding up on a 
 little hired mule, which he almost concealed with his 
 cassock. Above, his big hat looked so strange that 
 Gaspard, who was wonderfully forward for his age, ran 
 up to me crying : " A droll beast, mamma ! it has four 
 legs and a great hat ! " while little Armantine fled crying 
 from the monster. 
 
 All the servants were, however, coming out eagerly to 
 receive the blessing of the good man, who had made him- 
 self much beloved in the household. The Marquis em- 
 braced liim with tears, and presented him to me, when 
 he fell on his knee^ took my hand, pressed it to his Kps 
 and bathed it with his tears, and then held Gaspard to 
 his breast with fervent love. 
 
 It was necessary to be cheerful before M. de Nidemerle. 
 He had truly loved his nephew, and mourned for him, 
 but the aged do not like a recurrence to sorrows, so the 
 Abbe amused him with the news brous^ht from Saumur, 
 and our party at cards was a complete one that evening. 
 
 But the next day, the Abbe, who had loved his pupil 
 like a son, could talk of him to me, and it was a comfort 
 I cannot express to my aching heart to converse with him. 
 Everything had settled into an ordinary course. People 
 fancied me consoled; I had attended to other things, and 
 I could not obtrude my grief on the Marquis or on Cecile; 
 but oh ! my sick yearning for my Philippe only grew the 
 more because I might not mention him or hear his name.
 
 94 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 However, the Abbe only longed to listen to all I could 
 tell him of the last three years, and in return to tell me 
 much that I should never otherwise have known of the 
 boyhood and youth of my dear one. 
 
 I felt as if the good man must never leave us, and I 
 entreated M. de Nidemerle to retain him at once as 
 governor to little Gaspard. The Marquis laughed at 
 securing a tutor for a child not yet three years old ; but 
 he allowed that the boy could not be in better hands, 
 and, moreover, he was used to the Abbe, and liked to take 
 his arm and to have him to make up the party at cards, 
 which he played better than the curd. 
 
 So the Abbe remained as chaplain and as tutor, and, 
 until Gaspard should be old enough to profit by his 
 instructions, Cecile and I entreated him to accept us as 
 pupils. I had begun to feel the need of some hard and 
 engrossing work to take off my thoughts alike from my 
 great sorrow and my pressing anxieties about my English 
 home, so that I wished to return to my Latin studies 
 again, and the Abbe helped me to read Cicero dc Officiis 
 and likewise some of the writings of St. Gregory the 
 Great. He also read to both of us the Gospels and 
 Mezeray's History of France, which I did not know as an 
 adopted Frenchwoman ought to know it, and Cecile knew 
 not at all ; nay, the nuns had scarcely taught her any- 
 thing, even about religion, nor the foundations of the 
 faith.
 
 VIII.] MAEGUERrrE TO THE RESCUE. 95 
 
 'No, I can never explain what we, both of us, owe to 
 the Abb^ Bonchamp. You, my eldest grandchild, can just 
 recollect the good old man as he sat in his chair and 
 blessed us ere he passed to his rest and the reward of his 
 labours.
 
 96 ' STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP; 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE FIREBRAND OF THE BOCAGE. 
 
 Yes, the life at Md de Merle was very peaceful. Just as 
 when I look back to my short married life I see how 
 exquisitely happy it was in spite of alarms, anxieties, per- 
 plexities, and discomforts, so when I contemplate my 
 three years in Anjou I see that they were full of peace, 
 though the sunshine of my life was over and Cecile's had 
 never come. 
 
 We had our children about us, for we took little 
 Maurice d'Aubepine home as soon as possible; we followed 
 the course of devotion and study traced for us by the Abbe ; 
 we attended to the wants of the poor, and taught their 
 children the Catechism ; we worked and lived like sisters, 
 and I thought all that was life to me was over. I forgot 
 that at twenty-two there is much of life yet to come, and 
 that one may go through many a vicissitude of feeling 
 even though one's heart be in a grave. 
 
 The old Marquis did not long remain with us. He 
 caught a severe cold in the winter, and had no strenfjth to
 
 IX.] THE FIREBRAND OF THE BOCAGE. 97 
 
 rally. Tryphena would have it tliat he sank from taking 
 nothing but tisanes made of herbs ; and that if she might 
 only have given him a good hot sack posset, he would 
 have recovered; but he shuddered at the thought, and 
 when a doctor came from Saumur, he bled the poor old 
 gentleman, faintings came on, and he died the next day. I 
 was glad Tryphena's opinion was only expressed in English. 
 The poor old man had been very kind to me, and had 
 made me love him better than I should have supposed to 
 be possible when we crossed from Dover. The very last 
 thing he had done was to write to my mother, placing 
 his hotel at Paris at her disposal in case she and her son 
 should find it expedient to leave England; and when 
 his will was opened it proved that he had left me per- 
 sonal guardian and manager of the estates of his heir, my 
 little Gaspard, now Marquis de Nidemerle, joining no one 
 with me in the charge but my half-brother the Baron de 
 Solivet. 
 
 I had helped him, read letters to him, and written 
 them for him, and overlooked his accounts enough for the 
 work not to be altogether new and stransje to me, and I 
 took it up eagerly. I had never forgotten the sermon by 
 the holy Eather Vincent, whom the Church has since 
 acknowledged as a saint, and our excellent Abbe had 
 heightened the impression that a good work lay prepared 
 for me ; but he warned me to be prudent, and I am 
 afraid I was hot-headed and eager. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP, 
 
 Much had grieved me in the six months I had spent 
 in the country, in the state of the peasantry. I believe 
 that in the Bocage they are better off than in many parts 
 of France, but even there they seemed to me much 
 oppressed and weighed down. Their huts were wretched 
 — they had no chimneys, no glass in the windows, no 
 garden, not even anything comfortable for the old to sit 
 in ; and when I wanted to give a poor rheumatic old 
 man a warm cushion, I found it was carefully hidden 
 away lest M. I'lntendant should suppose the family too 
 well off. 
 
 Those seignorial rights then seemed to me terrible. 
 The poor people stood in continual fear either of the 
 intendant of the king or of the Marquis, or of the col- 
 lector of the dues of the Church. At harvest time, a 
 bough was seen sticking in half the sheaves. In every 
 ten, one sheaf is marked for the tithe, two for the seigneur, 
 two for the king ; and the officer of each takes the best, 
 so that only the worst are left for the peasant. 
 
 Nay, the only wonder seemed to me that there were 
 any to be had at all, for our intendant thought it his 
 duty to call off the men from their own fields for the 
 days due from them whenever he wanted anything to be 
 done to our land (or his own, or his son's-in-law), without 
 the slightest regard to the damage their crops suffered 
 from neglect. 
 
 I was sure these things ought not to be. I thought
 
 IX.] THE FIEEBRAND OF THE SOCAGE. 99 
 
 infinitely more good might be done by helping the peas- 
 ants to make the most of what they had, and by prevent- 
 ing them from being robbed in my son's name, than by deal- 
 ing out gallons of soup and piles of bread at the castle 
 gates to relieve the misery we had brought on them, or 
 by dressing the horrible sores that were caused by dirt and 
 bad food. I told the Abb^, and he said it was a noble 
 inspiration in itself, but that he feared that one lady, and 
 she a foreigner, could not change the customs of centuries, 
 and that innovations were dangerous. I also tried to fire 
 with the same zeal for reformation the Abbess of Bellaise, 
 who was a young and spirited woman, open to conviction; 
 but she was cloistered, and could not go to investigate 
 matters as I did, with the Abb^ for my escort, and often 
 with my son. He was enchanted to present any little 
 gift, and it was delightful that the peasants should learn 
 to connect all benefits with Monsieur le Marquis, as they 
 already called the little fellow. 
 
 I think they loved me the better when they found 
 that I was the grandchild of the Madame Eustacie who 
 had been hidden in their cottages. I found two or three 
 old people who still remembered her wanderings when 
 she kept the cows and knitted like a peasant girl among 
 them. I was even shown the ruinous chamber where 
 my aunt Thistlewood was born, and the people were 
 enchanted to hear how much the dear old lady had told 
 me of them, and of their ways, and their kindness to her.
 
 loo STKAY PEAKLS. [CHAP. 
 
 I encouraged the people to make their cottages clean 
 and not to be afraid of comforts, promising that our 
 intendant at least should not interfere with them. I 
 likewise let him know that I would not have men forced 
 to leave their fields when it would ruin their crops, and 
 that it was better that ours should suffer than theirs. 
 He was obsequious in manner and then disobeyed me, 
 till one day I sent three labourers back again to secure 
 their own hay before they touched ours. And when the 
 harvest was gathered in the Abbe and I went round the 
 fields of the poor, and I pointed out the sheaves that might 
 be marked, and they were not the best. 
 
 I taught the girls to knit as they watched their cows, 
 and promised to buy some of their stockings, so that they 
 might obtain sabots for themselves with the price. They 
 distrusted me at first, but before long, they began to per- 
 ceive that I was their friend, and I began to experience 
 a new kind of happiness. 
 
 Alas ! even this was too sweet to last, or perhaps, 
 as the good Abb(^ warned me, I was pleasing myself too 
 much with success, and with going my own way. The 
 first murmur of the storm came thus : I had been out all 
 the afternoon with the Abbe, Annan tine's honne, and the 
 two elder children, looking at the vineyards, which always 
 interested me much because we have none like them in 
 England. In one, where they were already treading the 
 grapes, the good woman begged that ]\I. le ]\Iarquis and
 
 IX.] THE FIREBRAND OF THE BOCAGE. . 101 
 
 Mademoiselle would for once tread the grapes to bring 
 good luck. They were frantic with joy ; we took off 
 their little shoes and silk stockings, rolled them up in 
 thick cloths, and let them get into the trough and dance 
 on the grapes with their little white feet. That wine 
 was always called "the Vintage of le Marquis." We 
 could hardly get them away, they were so joyous, and 
 each carried a great bunch of grapes as a present to the 
 little boy at home and his mother. 
 
 We thought we saw a coachman's head and the top 
 of a carriage passing through the lanes, and when we 
 came home I was surprised to find my sister-in-law in 
 tears, thoroughly shaken and agitated. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Gringrimeau had been to see her, 
 she said, and had told her the Count was in Paris, but 
 had not sent for her ; and I thought that enough to 
 account for her state ; but when the children began to 
 tell their eager story, and hold up their grapes to her, she 
 burst again into tears, and cried : " Oh, my dear sister, if 
 you would be warned. It is making a scandal, indeed it 
 is ! They call you a plebeian." 
 
 I grew hot and angry, and demanded what could be 
 making a scandal, and what business Mademoiselle de 
 Gringrimeau had to meddle with me or my affairs. 
 
 " Ah ! but she will write to my husband, and he will 
 take me from you, and that would be dreadful. Give it 
 up. Oh, Marguerite, give it up for my sake !"
 
 102 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 What was I to give up ? I demanded. Eunning 
 about the country, it appeared, like a farmer's wife 
 rather than a lady of quality, and stirring up the poor 
 against their lords. It was well known that all the 
 English were seditious. See what they had done to 
 their king ; and here was I, beginning the same work. 
 Had not the Count's intendant at Chateau d'Aubepine 
 thrown in his teeth what Madame de Bellaise did and 
 permitted ? He was going to write to Monseigneur, ay, 
 and the king's own inteTidant would hear of it, so I had 
 better take care, and Mademoiselle had come out of pure 
 benevolence to advise Madame la Comtesse to come and 
 take refuge at her husband's own castle before the 
 thunderbolt should fall upon me, and involve her in my ruin. 
 
 I laughed. I was sure that I was neither doing nor 
 intending any harm ; I thought the whole a mere ebul- 
 lition of spite on the duenna's part to torment and 
 frighten her emancipated victim, and I treated all as a 
 joke to reassure Cecile, and even laughed at the Abbe for 
 treating the matter more seriously, and saying it was 
 always perilous to go out of a beaten track. 
 
 " I thought the beaten track and wide road were the 
 dangerous ones," I said, with more lightness, perhaps, 
 than suited the subject. 
 
 "Ah, Madame," he returned gravely, "you have 
 there the truth ; but there may be danger in this world 
 in the narrow path."
 
 IX.] THE FIREBRAND OF THE BOCAGE. 103 
 
 The most effectual consolation that I could invent 
 for C^cile was that if her husband thought me bad com- 
 pany for her, he could not but fetch her to her proper 
 home with him, as soon as peace was made. Did I really 
 think so ? The little thing grew radiant with the hope. 
 
 Days went on, we heard nothing, and I was per- 
 suaded that the whole had been, as I told Cecile, a mere 
 figment of Mademoiselle de Gringrimeau's. 
 
 I had written to beg my mother, with my brother 
 and sister, to come and join us, and I was already begin- 
 ning to arrange a suite of rooms for them, my heart 
 bounding as it only can do at the thought of meeting 
 those nearest and dearest of one's own blood. 
 
 I remember that I was busy giving orders that the 
 linen should be aired, and overlooking the store of sheets, 
 when Gaspard and Armantine from the window called 
 out : " Horses, horses, mamma ! fine cavaliers ! " 
 
 I rushed to the window and recognised the Solivet 
 colours. No doubt the baron had come to announce the 
 arrival of my mother and the rest, and I hastened down 
 to meet him at the door, full of delight, with my son 
 holding my hand. 
 
 My first exclamation after the greeting was to ask 
 where they were, and how soon they would arrive, and I 
 was terribly disappointed when I found that he had 
 come alone, and that my mother, with Eustace and 
 Annora, were at the Hotel de Nidemerle, at Paris,
 
 104 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 without any intention of leaving it. He himself had 
 come down on business, as indeed was only natural since 
 he was joined with me in the guardianship of my little 
 Marquis, and he would likewise be in time to enjoy the 
 chase over the estates. 
 
 He said no more of his purpose then, so I was not 
 alarmed; and he seemed much struck with the growth 
 and improvement of Gaspard. I had much to hear of 
 the three who were left to me of my own family. M. 
 de Solivet had never seen them before, and could hardly 
 remember his mother, so he could not compare them with 
 what they were before their troubles ; but I gathered 
 that my mother was well in health, and little the worse 
 for all her troubles, and that my little JSTan was as tall 
 as myself, a true White Eibaumont, with an exquisite 
 complexion, who would be all the rage if she were not 
 so extremely English, more English even than I had been 
 when I had arrived. 
 
 " And my brother, my Eustace. Oh, why did he 
 not come with you ? " I asked. 
 
 And M. de Solivet gravely answered that our brother 
 was detained by a suit with the Poligny family respecting 
 the estate of Eibaumont, and, besides, that the rapidity of 
 the journey would not have agreed with his state of 
 health. I only then fully understood the matter, for our 
 letters had been few, and had to be carefully written and 
 made short; and though I knew that, at the battle of
 
 IX.] THE FIREBPvAXD OF THE BOCAGE. 105 
 
 !N'aseby, Eustace had been wounded and made prisoner, he 
 had written to me that his hurt was not severe, and that 
 he had been kindly treated, through the intervention of 
 our cousin Harry Merrycourt, who, to our great regret, 
 was among the rebels, but who had become surety for 
 Eustace and procured his release. 
 
 I now heard that my brother had been kept with the 
 other prisoners in a miserable damp barn, letting in the 
 weather on all sides, and with no bedding or other com- 
 forts, so that when Harry Merrycourt sought him out, 
 he had taken a violent chill, and had nearly died, not 
 from the wound, but from pleurisy. He had never 
 entirely recovered, though my mother thought him much 
 stronger and better since he had been in France, out of 
 sight of all that was so sad and grievous to a loyal 
 cavalier in England. 
 
 " They must come to me," I cried. " He will soon 
 be well in this beautiful air; I will feed him with goat's 
 milk and whey, and Tryphena shall nurse him well." 
 
 M. de Solivet made no answer to this, but told me 
 how delighted the Queen of England had been to welcome 
 my mother, whom she had at once appointed as one of 
 her ladies of the bedchamber; and then we spoke of 
 King Charles, who was at Hampton Court, trying to 
 make terms with the Parliament, and my brother spoke 
 with regret and alarm of the like spirit of resistance in 
 our own Parliament of Paris, backed by the mob. I
 
 106 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 remember it was on that evening that I first heard the 
 name Frondeurs, or Slingers, applied to the speechifiers 
 on either side who started forward, made their hit, and 
 retreated, like the little street boys with their slings. I 
 was to hear a great deal more of that name. 
 
 It was not till after supper that I heard the cause of 
 M. de Solivet's visit. C^cile, who always retired early, 
 went away sooner than usual to leave us together, so did 
 the Abb^ and then the baron turned to me and said : 
 " Sister, how soon can you be prepared to come with me 
 to Paris ? " 
 
 I was astounded, thinking at first that Eustace's 
 illness must be more serious than he had led me to sup- 
 pose, but he smiled and said notre fHre de Volvent, which 
 was the nearest he could get to Walwyn, had nothing to 
 do with it ; it was by express command of the Queen- 
 Eegent, and that I might thank my mother and the 
 Queen of England that it was no worse. " This is better 
 than a lettre de cachet," he added, producing a magnificent- 
 looking envelope with a huge seal of the royal French 
 arms, that made me laugh rather nervously to brave my 
 dismay, and asked what he called that. He responded 
 gravely that it was no laughing matter, and I opened 
 it. It was an official order that Gaspard Philippe 
 Beranger de Bellaise, Marquis de Nidemerle, should 
 be brought to the Louvre to be presented to the 
 King.
 
 IX.] THE FIREBRAND OF THE BOCAGE. 107 
 
 " Well," I said, " I must go to Paris. Ought I to 
 have brought my boy before ? I did not know that he 
 ought to pay his homage till he was older. Was it really 
 such a breach of respect ? " 
 
 " You are a child yourself, my sister," he said, much in- 
 juring my dignity. "What have you not been doing here ? " 
 
 Then it came on me. The intendant of the King had 
 actually written complaints of me to the Government. I 
 was sowing disaffection among the peasants by the 
 favours I granted my own, teaching them to dispute 
 seignorial rights, and preparing them for rebellion like 
 that which raged in England, and bringing up my son in 
 the same sentiments. Nay, I was called the Firebrand 
 of the Bocage ! If these had been the days of the great 
 Cardinal de Eichelieu, my brother assured me, I should 
 probably have been by this time in the Bastille, and 
 my son would have been taken from me for ever ! 
 
 However, my half-brother heard of it in time, and my 
 mother had flown to Queen Henrietta, who took her to 
 the Queen-Eegent, and together they had made such 
 representations of my youth, folly, and inexperience, that 
 the Queen-Mother, who had a fellow-feeling for a young 
 widow and her son, had at last consented to do nothing 
 worse than summon me and my child to Paris, where my 
 mother and her Queen answered for me that I should live 
 quietly, and give no more umbrage to the authorities ; 
 and my brother De Solivet had been sent off to fetch me !
 
 108 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 I am afraid I was much more angry than grateful, 
 and I said such hot things about tyranny, cruelty, and 
 oppression, that Solivet looked about in alarm, lest walls 
 should have ears, and told me he feared he had done 
 wrong in answering for me. He was really a good man, 
 but he could not in the least understand why I should 
 weep hot tears for my poor people whom I was just 
 hoping to benefit. He could not enter into feeling for 
 Jacques Bonhomme so much as for his horse or his dog ; 
 and I might have argued for years without making him see 
 anything but childish folly in my wishing for any mode 
 of relief better than doles of soup, dressing of wounds, 
 and dowries for maidens. 
 
 However, there was no choice ; I was helpless, and 
 resistance would have done my people no good, but 
 rather harm, and would only have led to my son being 
 separated from me. Indeed, I cherished a hope that 
 when the good Queen Anne heard the facts she mightv 
 understand better than my half-brother did, and that 
 I might become an example and public benefactor. My 
 brother must have smiled at me in secret, but he did 
 not contradict me. 
 
 My poor mother and the rest would not have been 
 flattered by my reluctance to come to Paris ; but in truth 
 the thought of them was my drop of comfort, and if 
 Eustace could not come to me I must have gone to him. 
 And Cecile — what was to become of Ct^cile ?
 
 IX.] THE FIREBRAND OF THE BOCAGE. * 109 
 
 To come with me of course. Here at least Solivet 
 agreed with me, for he had as great a horror of Made- 
 moiselle de Gringrimeau as I had, and knew, moreover, 
 that she wrote spiteful letters to the Count d'Aubepine 
 about his poor little wife, which happily were treated with 
 the young gentleman's usual insouciance. Solivet was of 
 my opinion that the old demoiselle had instigated this 
 attack. He thought so all the more when he heard that 
 she was actually condescending to wed the intenclant of 
 Chateau d'Aubepine. But he said he had no doubt that 
 my proceedings would have been stopped sooner or later, 
 and that it was well that it should be done before I 
 committed myself unpardonably. 
 
 Madame d'Aubepine had been placed in my charge by 
 her husband, so that I w^as justified in taking her with me. 
 Her husband had spent the last winter at Paris, but was 
 now with the army in the Low Countries, and the com- 
 pliments Solivet paid me on my dear friend's improvement 
 in appearance and manner inspired us with strong hopes 
 that she might now attract her husband ; for though still 
 small, pale, and timid, she was very unlike the frightened 
 sickly child he had left. 
 
 I believe she was the one truly happy person when 
 we left tlie Chateau de Md de Merle. She was all radiant 
 with hope and joy, and my brother could not but confess 
 she was almost beautiful, and a creature whom any man 
 with a heart must love.
 
 110 * STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 OLD THREADS TAKEN UP. 
 
 I THINK M. de Solivet realised a little better what the 
 sacrifice was to me, or rather how cruel the parting was to 
 my poor people, when we set forth on our journey. We 
 had tried to keep the time of our departure a secret, but 
 it had not been possible to do so, and the whole court 
 was filled with people weeping and crying out to their 
 young lord and their good lady, as they called me, not to 
 abandon them, kissing our dresses as we walked along, 
 and crowding so that we could hardly pass. ^ 
 
 Indeed, a lame man, whom I had taught to make 
 mats, threw himself before the horses of our carriage, 
 crying out that we might as well drive over him and kill 
 him at once ; and an old woman stood up almost like a 
 witch or prophetess, crying out : " Ah ! that is the way 
 with you all. You are like all the rest ! You gave us 
 hope once, and now you are gone to your pleasures which 
 you squeeze out of our hearts' blood." 
 
 " Ah, good mother," I said ; " believe me, it is not
 
 X.] OLD THREADS TAKEN UP. Ill 
 
 by my own will that I leave you ; I will never forget 
 
 you." 
 
 " I trust," muttered Solivet, " that no one is here 
 to report all this to that Intendant du Hoi," and he 
 hurried me into the carriage ; but there were tears 
 running down his cheeks, and I believe he emptied his 
 purse among them, though not without being told by 
 some of the poor warm-hearted creatures that no money 
 could repay them for the loss of Madame la Vicomtesse. 
 i " I did not know how sweet it is to be beloved," he 
 said to me. " It is almost enough to tempt one to play 
 the role de hon seigneur^ 
 
 " Ah ! brother, if you would. You are no foreigner, 
 you are wiser and would not make yourself suspected 
 like me." 
 
 He only laughed and shrugged his shoulders ; but he 
 was as good to our poor as it is possible to be as we live 
 here in France, where we are often absolutely compelled 
 to live at court, and our expenses there force us to press 
 heavily on our already hard-driven peasants. I some- 
 times wonder whether a better time will come, when our 
 good Duke of Burgundy tries to carry out the maxims of 
 Monseigneur the Archbishop of Cambray ; but I shall not 
 live to see that day.^ 
 
 In due time we arrived in Paris. It was pouring 
 
 1 No wonder Madame de Bellaise's descendants durst not publish 
 these -writings while the ancien regime continued !
 
 112 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 with rain, so no one came to meet us, though I looked 
 out at every turn, feeling that Eustace must indeed be 
 unwell, or no weather would have kept him from flying 
 to meet his Meg. Or had he in these six long years 
 ceased to care for me, and should I find him a politician 
 and a soldier, with his heart given to somebody else and 
 no room for me ? 
 
 My heart beat so fast that I could hardly attend to 
 the cries of wonder and questions of the two children, and 
 indeed of C(3cile, to whom everything was as new and 
 wonderful as to them, though in the wet, with our 
 windows splashed all over, the first view of Paris was not 
 too promising. However, at last we drove beneath our 
 own porte cocMrc, and upon the steps there were all the 
 servants. And Eustace, my own dear brother, was at the 
 coach-door to meet us and hand me out. 
 
 I passed from his arms to those of my mother, and 
 then to my sister's. Wliatever might come and go, I 
 could not but feel that there was an indefinable bliss and 
 hien-etre in their very presence ! It was home — coming 
 home — more true content and rest than I had felt since 
 that fatal day at Nancy. 
 
 My mother was enchanted with her grandson, and 
 knew how to welcome Madame d'Aubepine as one of 
 the family, since she was of course to reside with us. 
 The Abbe also was most welcome to my mother. 
 
 How we all looked at one another, to find the old
 
 X.] OLD THREADS TAKEX UP. 113 
 
 beings we had loved, and to learn the new ones we had 
 become ! My mother was of course the least altered ; 
 indeed, to my surprise, she was more embonpoint than 
 before, instead of having the haggard worn air that I 
 had expected, and though she wept at first, she was soon 
 again smiling. 
 
 Eustace, Baron Walwyn and Eibaumont, as he now 
 unfortunately had become, sat by me. He was much 
 taller than when we had parted, for he had not then 
 reached his full height, and he looked the taller from 
 being very thin. His moustache and pointed beard had 
 likewise changed him, but there was clear bright colour 
 on his cheek, and his dear brown eyes shone upon me with 
 their old sweetness; so that it was not till we had been 
 together some little time that I found that the gay merry 
 lad whom I had left had become not only a man, but a 
 very grave and thoughtful man. 
 
 Annora was a fine creature, well grown, and with 
 the clearest, freshest complexion, of the most perfect 
 health, yet so pure and delicate, that one looked at her 
 like a beautiful flower ; but it somehow struck me that 
 she had a discontented and almost defiant expression. 
 She seemed to look at me with a sort of distrust, and to 
 be with difficulty polite to Madame d'Aubepine, while she 
 was almost rude to the Abbe. She scarcely uttered a word 
 of French, and made a little cry and gesture of disgust, 
 when Gaspard replied to her in his native tongue, poor child. 
 
 VOL. L I
 
 114 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 She was the chief disappointment to me. I had 
 expected to find, not indeed my little playfellow, but my 
 own loving sister Nan ; and this young lady was like a 
 stranger. I thought, too, my mother would have been 
 less lively, but she seemed to me to have forgotten every- 
 thing in the satisfaction of being at Paris. At first I 
 feared she was looking at me with displeasure, but pre- 
 sently I observed that she had discarded her widow's 
 veil, and looked annoyed that I still wore mine. Other- 
 wise she was agreeably surprised in me, and turned to 
 M. de Solivet, saying : 
 
 " Yes, my son, you are right, she is hdle, assez telle ; 
 and when she is dressed and has no more that provincial 
 air, she will do very well." 
 
 It was Eustace, my brother, who gave me unmixed 
 delight that evening, unmixed save for his look of delicate 
 health, for that he should be graver was only suitable 
 to my feelings, and we knew that we were in perfect 
 sympathy with one another whenever our eyes met, 
 as of old, while we had hardly exchanged a word. And 
 then, how gracious and gentle he was with poor little 
 Madame d'Aub^pine, who looked up to him like a little 
 violet at the foot of a poplar tree ! 
 
 Supper passed in inquiries after kinsfolk and old 
 friends. Alas ! of how many the answer was — slain, 
 missing since such a battle. In prison, ruined, and 
 brought to poverty, seemed to be the best I could
 
 X.] OLD THREADS TAKEN UP. 115 
 
 hear of any one I inquired after. That Walwyn was 
 not yet utterly lost seemed to be owing to Harry Merry- 
 court. 
 
 " He on the wrong side !" I exclaimed. 
 
 "He looks on the question as a lawyer," said my 
 brother ; " holding the duty of the nation to be rather to 
 the law than to the sovereign." 
 
 "Base! Unworthy of a gentleman!" cried my 
 mother. " Who would believe him the kinsman of the 
 gallant Due de Mericour ?" 
 
 " He would be ashamed to count kindred with that 
 effeminate petit mattre !" cried Annora. 
 
 " I think," said Eustace, " that the wrong and per- 
 secution that his Huguenot grandfather suffered at the 
 hands of his French family have had much power in 
 inspiring him with that which he declares is as much 
 loyalty as what I call by that honoured name." 
 
 "You can speak of him with patience!" cried my 
 mother. 
 
 " In common gratitude he is bound to do so," said 
 Annora. 
 
 For not only had Colonel Merrycourt preserved our 
 brother's life after Naseby, but he had found a plea of 
 ser^dce to the King which availed at the trial that 
 followed at Westminster. Harry had managed to secure 
 part of the estate, as he had likewise done for our other 
 kindred the Thistlewoods, by getting appointed their
 
 •116 STRAY PEAELS. [CHAP. 
 
 guardian when their father was killed at Chalgrove. But 
 soldiers had been quartered on both families ; there had 
 been a skirmish at Walwjm with Sir Ealph Hopton, much 
 damage had been done to the house and grounds, and 
 there was no means of repairing it; aU the plate had 
 been melted up, there was nothing to show for it but 
 a little oval token, with the King's head on one side, 
 and the Queen's on the other ; and as to the chaplet of 
 pearls — - 
 
 There was a moment's silence as I inquired for them. 
 Annora said : 
 
 " Gone, of course ; more hatefuUy than all the rest." 
 
 My brother added, with a smile that evidently cost 
 him an effort : 
 
 "You are the only pearl of Eibaumont left, Meg, 
 except this one," showing me his ring of thin silver with 
 one pearl set in it ; "I kept back this one in memory of 
 my grandmother. So Nan will have to go to her first 
 ball without them." 
 
 And had little Nan never been to a ball ? No ; she 
 had never danced except that Christmas when a troop of 
 cavaliers had been quartered at Walwyn — a merry young 
 captain and his lieutenant, who had sent for the fiddles, 
 and made them have a dance in the hall, Berenger, and 
 Nan, and all. And not a week after, the young captain, 
 ay, and our dear Berry, were lying in their blood at Aires- 
 ford. Had Nan's heart been left there? I wondered.
 
 X.] OLD THREADS TAKEN UP. 117 
 
 when I saw how little she brightened at the mention of 
 the Court ball where she was to appear next week, and 
 to which it seemed my mother trusted that I should be 
 invited in token of my being forgiven. 
 
 I tried to say that I had never meant to return to the 
 world, and that I still kept to my mourning ; but my 
 mother said with authority that I had better be grateful 
 for any token of favour that was vouchsafed to me. She 
 took me into her own apartment after supper, and talked 
 to me very seriously; telling me that I must be 
 very careful, for that I had been so imprudent, that I 
 should certainly have been deprived of the custody of my 
 son, if not imprisoned, unless my good godmother, Queen 
 Henrietta, and herself had made themselves responsible 
 for me. 
 
 I told my mother that I had done nothing, absolutely 
 nothing, but attend to the wants of my son's people, just 
 as I had been used to see my grandmother, and my aunt 
 Thistlewood, or any English lady, do at home. 
 
 "And to what has that brought England ?" cried my 
 mother. "No, child, those creatures have no gratitude 
 nor proper feeling. There is nothing to do but to keep 
 them down. See how they are hampering and impeding 
 the Queen and the Cardinal here, refusing the registry of 
 the taxes forsooth, as if it were not honour enough to 
 maintain the King's wars and the splendour of his Court, 
 and enable the nobility to shine !"
 
 118 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 " Surely it is our duty to do something for them in 
 return," I said ; but I was silenced with assurances that 
 if I wished to preserve the wardship of my child, I must 
 conform in everything ; nay, that my own liberty was in 
 danger. 
 
 Solivet had hinted as much, and the protection of my 
 child was a powerful engine ; but — shall I confess it ? — 
 it galled and chafed me terribly to feel myself taken once 
 more into leading-strings. I, who had for three years 
 governed my house as a happy honoured wife, and for 
 three more had been a chdtelaine, complimented by the old 
 uncle, and after his death, the sole ruler of my son's 
 domain ; I was not at all inclined to return into tutelage, 
 and I could not look on my mother after these six years, 
 as quite the same conclusive authority as I thought her 
 when I left her. The spirit of self-assertion and self- 
 justification was strong within me, and though I hope I 
 did not reply with ingratitude or disrespect, I would 
 make no absolute promise till I had heard what my 
 brother Walwyn said of my position in its secular aspect, 
 and the Abbe Bonchamps in its religious point of view. 
 So I bade my mother good-night, and went to see how 
 Cecile fared in her new quarters, which, to her grief, 
 were in a wing separated from mine by a long corridor. 
 
 My mother had arranged everything, ruling naturally 
 as if she were the mistress of the house. Thus she 
 installed me in the great room where I had seen the old
 
 Xj OLD THREADS TAKEN UP, 119 
 
 Marquise, though I would rather she had retained it, and 
 given me that which I had occupied when I was there with 
 my husband. However, I made no objection, for I felt so 
 much vexed that I was extremely afraid of saying some- 
 thing to show that I thought she ought to remember that 
 this was my house, and that she was my guest. I would 
 not for the world have uttered anything so ungenerous 
 and unfilial; and all I could do that night was to pray 
 that she might not drive me to lose my self-command, 
 and that I might both do right and keep my child. 
 
 I was too restless and unhappy to sleep much, for I 
 knew my feelings were wrong, and yet I was sure I was 
 in the right in my wish to do good to the poor ; and the 
 sense of being bridled, and put into leading-strings, poisoned 
 the pleasure I had at first felt in my return to my own 
 family. I cannot describe the weary tumult of thought 
 and doubt that tossed me, till, after a brief sleep, I heard 
 the church-bells. I rose and dressed for early mass, 
 taking my boy, who always awoke betimes, leaving the 
 house quietly, and only calling my trusty lackey Nicolas 
 to take me to the nearest Church, which was not many 
 steps off. I do not think I found peace there : there was 
 too much self in me to reach that as yet ; but at any rate 
 I found the resolution to try to bend my will in what 
 might be indifferent, and to own it to be wholesome for 
 me to learn submission once more. 
 
 As I was about to enter our court, I heard a little
 
 120 • STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 cough, and looking round I saw a gentleman and lady 
 coming towards the house. They were my brother and 
 sister, who had been to the daily prayers at the house of 
 Sir Pdchard Browne, the English ambassador. I was 
 struck at my first glance with the lightsome free look of 
 Annora's face, but it clouded and grew constrained in 
 an instant when I spoke to her. 
 
 They said my mother would not be awake nor admit 
 us for an hour or two, and in the meantime Eustace was 
 ready to come to my apartments, for indeed we had hardly 
 seen one another. Annora anxiously reminded him that 
 he must take his chocolate, and orders were given that 
 this should be served in my cabinet for us both. 
 
 There is no describing what that interview was to us. 
 We, who had been one throughout our childhood, but 
 had been parted all through the change to man and 
 woman, now found ourselves united again, understanding 
 one another as no other being could do, and almost without 
 words, entering , into full sympathy with one another. 
 Yes, without words, for I was as certain as if he had 
 told me that Eustace had undergone some sorrow deeper 
 than even loss of health, home, and country. I felt it in 
 the chastened and sobered tone in which he talked to me 
 of my cares, as if he likewise had crossed the stream of 
 tears that divides us from the sunshine of our lives. 
 
 He did not think what I had attempted in Anjou 
 foolish and chimerical — he could look at the matter with
 
 X.] OLD THREADS TAKEN UP. 121 
 
 the eyes of an English lord of the manor, accustomed not 
 to view the peasant as a sponge to be squeezed for the 
 benefit of the master, but to regard the landlord as account- 
 able for the welfare, bodily and spiritual, of his people. 
 He thought I had done right, though it might be ignorantly 
 and imprudently in the present state of things ; but his 
 heart had likewise burned within him at the oppression of 
 the peasantry, and, loyal cavalier as he was, he declared 
 that he should have doubted on which side to draw 
 his sword had things been thus in England. He had 
 striven to make my mother and Queen Henrietta under- 
 stand the meaning of what I had been doing, and he 
 said the complaints sent up had evidently been much 
 exaggerated, and envenomed by spite and distrust of me 
 as a foreigner. He could well enter into my grief at the 
 desertion of my poor people, for how was it with those at 
 Walwyn, deprived of the family to whom they had been 
 used to look, with many widows and orphans made by 
 the war, and the Church invaded by a loud-voiced empty- 
 headed fanatic, who had swept away all that had been 
 carefully preserved and honoured ! Should he ever see 
 the old home more ? 
 
 However, he took thought for my predicament. I 
 had no choice, he said, but to give way. To resist would 
 only make me be treated as a suspected person, and be 
 relegated to a convent, out of reach of influencing my son, 
 whom I might bring up to be a real power for good.
 
 122 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 Then my dear brother smiled hLs sweetest smile, the 
 sweeter for the sadness that had come into it, and kissed 
 my fingers chivalrously, as he said that after all he could 
 not but be grateful to the edict that had brought back to 
 him the greatest delight that was left to him. "Ah," I 
 said, " if it had only been in Anjou ! " 
 
 " If it had only been in Dorset, let us say at once," 
 he answered. 
 
 Then came the other question whether I might not 
 stay at home with the children, and give myself to devo- 
 tion and good works, instead of throwing off my mourn- 
 ing and following my mother to aU the gaieties of the court. 
 
 "My poor mother !" said Eustace. "You would not 
 wish to make your example a standing condemnation of 
 her?" 
 
 " I cannot understand how she^ can find pleasure in 
 these things," I cried. 
 
 " There is much in her that we find it hard to under- 
 stand," Eustace said ; " but you must remember that this is 
 her own country, and that though she gave it up for my 
 father's sake, England has always been a land of exile to 
 her, and we cannot wonder at her being glad to return 
 to the society of her old friends." 
 
 " She has Annora to be with her. Is not that 
 enough ? " 
 
 " Ah, Meg, I trusted to you to soothe poor Annora 
 and make her more conformable."
 
 X.] OLD THREADS TAKEN UP. 123 
 
 " She seems to have no intention of putting herself 
 under my influence," I said, rather hurt. 
 
 "She soon will, when she finds out your English 
 heart," said Eustace. " The poor child is a most unwilling 
 exile, and is acting like our old friends the urchins, oppos- 
 ing the prickles to all. But if my mother has Annora 
 to watch over, you also have a charge. A boy of this 
 little man's rank," he said, stroking the glossy curls of 
 Gaspard, who was leaning on my lap, staring up in 
 wonder at the unknown tongue spoken by his uncle, " and 
 so near the age of the king, will certainly be summoned 
 to attend at court, and if you shut yourself up, you will 
 be unable to follow him and guide him by your counsel." 
 
 That was the chief of what my dear brother said to 
 me on that morning. I wrote it down at the moment 
 because, though I trusted his wisdom and goodness with 
 all my heart, I thought his being a Protestant might bias 
 his views in some degree, and I wanted to know whether 
 the Abbe thought me bound by my plans of devotion, 
 which happily had not been vows. 
 
 And he fully thought my brother in the right, and that 
 it was my duty to remain in the world, so long as my son 
 needed me there ; while, as to any galKng from coming 
 under authority again, that was probably exactly what my 
 character wanted, and it would lessen the danger of dissipa- 
 tion. Perhaps I might have been in more real danger in 
 queening it at Nid de Merle than in submitting at Paris.
 
 X24t STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 CHAPTEE XL 
 
 THE TWO QUEENS. 
 
 After all, I was put to shame by finding that I had 
 done my poor mother an injustice in supposing that she 
 intended to assume the government of the house, for no 
 sooner was I admitted to her room than she gave me up 
 the keys, and indeed I believe she was not sorry to resign 
 them, for she had not loved housewifery in her pros- 
 perous days, and there had been a hard struggle with 
 absolute poverty during the last years in England. 
 
 She was delighted likewise that I was quite ready to 
 accompany her to thank Queen Henrietta for her inter- 
 cession, and to take her advice for the future, nor did she 
 object for that day to my mourning costume, as I was to 
 appear in the character of a suppliant. When I caught 
 Annora's almost contemptuous eye, I was ready to have 
 gone in diamonds and feathers. 
 
 However, forth we set, attended by both my brothers. 
 Lord Walwyn indeed held some appointment at the little 
 .court, and in due time we were ushered into the room
 
 XI.] THE TWO QUEENS. 125 
 
 where Queen Henrietta was seated with a pretty little 
 girl playing at her feet with a dog, and a youth of about 
 seventeen leaning over the elbow of her couch telling her 
 something with great animation, while a few ladies were 
 at work, with gentlemen scattered among them. How 
 sociable and friendly it looked, and how strangely yet 
 pleasantly the English tones fell on my ear ! And I was 
 received most kindly too. " Madame has brought her — 
 our little — nay, our great conspirator, the Firebrand of 
 the Bocage. Come, little Firebrand," exclaimed the Queen, 
 and as I knelt to kiss her hand she threw her arms round 
 me in an affectionate embrace, and the Prince of Wales 
 claimed me as an old acquaintance, saluted me, and 
 laughed, as he welcomed me to thek court of waifs and 
 strays, cast up one by one by the tide. 
 
 His little sister, brought by the faithful Lady Morton 
 in the disguise of a beggar boy, had been the last thus to 
 arrive. A very lovely child she was, and Prince Charles 
 made every one laugh by taking her on his knee and 
 calling her Piers the beggar boy, when she pointed to her 
 white frock, called herself " Pincess, pincess, not beggar 
 boy," and when he persisted, went into a little rage and 
 pulled his black curls. 
 
 My poor Queen, whom I had left in the pride and 
 mature bloom of beauty, was sadly changed ; she looked 
 thin and worn, and was altogether the brown old French- 
 woman ; but she was still as lively and vivacious, and
 
 126 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 full of arch kindness as ever, a true daughter of the 
 Grand Monarque, whose spirits no disasters could break. 
 When the little one became too noisy, she playfully 
 ordered off both the children, as she called them, and 
 bade me sit down on the footstool before her couch, and tell 
 her what I had been doing to put intendants, cardinals, 
 and Queens themselves into commotion. The little Lady 
 Henrietta was carried off by one of the attendants, but 
 the Prince would not go ; he resumed his former position, 
 saying that he was quite sure that Madame de Bellaise 
 was in need of an English counsel to plead her cause. 
 He had grown up from a mischievous imp of a boy to a 
 graceful elegant -looking youth. His figure, air, and 
 address were charming, I never saw them equalled ; but 
 his face was as ugly as ever, though with a droll ugliness 
 that was more winning than most men's beauty, lighted 
 up as it was by the most brilliant of black eyes and 
 the most engaging of smiles. You remember that I am 
 speaking of him as he was when he had lately arrived 
 from Jersey, before his expedition to Scotland. He 
 became a very different person after his return, but he 
 was now a simple-hearted, innocent lad, and I met him 
 again as an old friend and playfellow, whose sympathy was 
 a great satisfaction in the story I had to tell, though it was 
 given in a half-mocking way. My mother began by saying: 
 " The poor child, it is as I told your Majesty ; she 
 has only been a little too charitable."
 
 XI.] THE TWO QUEENS. 127 
 
 " Permit me, Madame," I said, " I did not give half 
 so much as most charitable ladies." 
 
 Then the explanation came, and the Queen shook her 
 head and told me such things would not do here, that 
 my inexperience might be pardonable, but that the only 
 way to treat such creatures was to feed them and clothe 
 them for the sake of our own souls. 
 
 Here the Prince made his eyes first flash and then 
 wink at me. 
 
 " But as to teaching them or elevating them, my 
 dear, it is as bad for them as for ourselves. You must 
 renounce all such chimeras, and if you have a passion 
 for charity there is good Father Vincent to teach you 
 safe methods." 
 
 I brightened up when I heard of Father Vincent, 
 and my mother engaged for me that I should do all that 
 was right, and appealed to my brother De Soli vet to 
 assure the Queen that there had been much malignant 
 exaggeration about the presumption of my measures and 
 the discontent of other people's peasants. 
 
 Queen Henrietta was quite satisfied, and declared 
 that she would at once conduct me to her sister-in-law, 
 the Queen-Eegent, at the Tuileries, since she had of 
 course the " petites entries" take her by storm as it were, 
 and it was exactly the right hour when the Queen would 
 be resting after holding council. 
 
 She called for a looking-glass, and made one of her
 
 128 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 women touch up her dress and bring her a fan, asking 
 whether I had ever been presented. No, my first stay 
 at Paris had been too short ; besides, my rank did not 
 make it needful, as my husband was only Viscount by 
 favour of his uncle, who let him hold the estate. 
 
 " Then," said the Prince, " you little know what court 
 is!" 
 
 " Can you make a curtsey ? " asked the Queen anxiously. 
 
 I repeated the one I had lately made to her Majesty, 
 and they all cried out : 
 
 " Oh, oh ! that was all very well at home." 
 
 "Or here before I married," added Queen Henrietta. 
 " Since Spanish etiquette has come in, we have all been 
 on our good behaviour." 
 
 "Having come from a barbarous isle," added the 
 Prince. 
 
 Tlie Queen therewith made the reverence which you 
 all know, my grand-daughters, but which seemed to me 
 unnatural, and the Prince's face twinkled at the incredu- 
 lity he saw in mine ; but at that moment a private door 
 was opening to give admission to a figure, not in itself 
 very tall, but looking twice its height from its upright, 
 haughty bearing. There was the Bourbon face fully 
 marked, with a good deal of fair hair in curls round it, 
 and a wonderful air of complete self-complacency. 
 
 This was la grande Mademoiselle, daughter of Gaston, 
 Duke of Orleans, and heiress through her mother of the
 
 XI.] THE TWO QUEENS. 129 
 
 great old Montpensier family, who lived at the Palais. 
 Koyal with her father, but was often at the Louvre. She 
 stood aghast, as well she might, thinking how little 
 dignity her aunt, the Queen of England, had to be acting 
 as mistress of deportment to a little homely widow. The 
 Prince turned at once. 
 
 " There is my cousin," said he, " standing amazed to 
 see how we have caught a barbarous islander of our own, 
 and are trying to train her to civilisation. Here — let 
 her represent the Queen-Eegent. Now, Meg — Madame 
 de Bellaise, I mean — imitate me while my mother pre- 
 sents me," he ran on in English, making such a grotesque 
 reverence that nobody except Mademoiselle could help 
 laughing, and his mother made a feint of laying her fan 
 about his ears, while she pronounced him a madcap and 
 begged her niece to excuse him. 
 
 " Eor profaning the outskirts of the majesty of the 
 Most Christian King," muttered the Prince, while his 
 mother explained the matter to her niece, adding that 
 her son could not help availing himself of the oppor- 
 tunity of paying her his homage. 
 
 Mademoiselle was pacified, and was graciously pleased 
 to permit me to be presented to her, also to criticise the 
 curtsey which I had now to perform, my good Queen 
 being so kind in training me that I almost lost the sense 
 of the incongruity of such a lesson at my age and in my 
 weeds. In fact, with my mother and my godmother 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 commanding me, and Eustace and the Prince of Wales 
 looking on, it was like a return to one's childhood. At 
 last I satisfied my royal instructress, and as she agreed 
 with my mother that my mourning befitted the occasion, 
 off we set en grande tenue to cross the court to the 
 Tuileries in a little procession, the Queen, attended by 
 my mother and Lady Morton as her ladies, and by Lord 
 Jermyn and Eustace as her gentlemen-in-w^aiting. 
 
 Mademoiselle also came, out of a sort of good- 
 natured curiosity, but the Prince of Wales shook his 
 head. 
 
 " I have no mind to show Madame the value of a 
 tabouret,'' he said. " Believe me, Meg, I may sit on 
 such an eminence in the august presence of my mother 
 and my regent aunt, but if my small cousin, the Most 
 Christian King, should enter, I must be dethroned, and a 
 succession of bows must ensue before w^e can either of us 
 be seated. I always fear that I shall some day break 
 out with the speech of King Lear's fool : ' Cry you 
 mercy, I took you for a joint stool' " 
 
 This passed while I, who came in the rear of the 
 procession, was waiting to move on, and I believe Queen 
 Henrietta was descanting to her niece on the blessino- 
 that her son's high spirits never failed him through all 
 their misfortunes. 
 
 However, in due time we reached the apartments of 
 the Queen-Eegent, the way lined with guards, servants.
 
 XI.] THE TWO QUEENS. 131 
 
 and splendid gentlemen, who all either presented arms 
 or bowed as our English Queen passed along, with an 
 easy, frank majesty about her that bespoke her a 
 daughter of the place, and at home there. But what 
 gave me the most courage was that as the door of her 
 bedroom was opened to admit Queen Henrietta, Made- 
 moiselle, my mother, and myself, I saw a black cassock, 
 and a face I knew again as that of the Holy Father, 
 Vincent de Paul, who had so much impressed me, and 
 had first given me comfort. 
 
 It was a magnificent room, and more magnificent 
 bed, and sitting up among her lace and cambric pillows 
 and coverlets was Queen Anne of Austria, in a rich 
 white lace cap and bedgown that set off her smooth, fair, 
 plump beauty, and exquisite hands and arms. Ladies 
 stood round the bed. I did not then see who any of 
 them were, for this was the crisis of my fate, and my 
 heart beat and my eyes swam with anxiety. Queen 
 Henrietta made her low reverence, as of course we did, 
 and some words of sisterly greeting ensued, after which 
 the English queen said : 
 
 " My sister, I have made you this early visit to bring 
 you my little suppliant. Allow me to present to your 
 Majesty, Madame la Yicomtesse de Bellaise, who is 
 sincerely sorry to have offended you." 
 
 (That was true ; I was sincerely sorry that what I 
 had done could offend.)
 
 132 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 My kind godmother went on to say that I had 
 offended only out of ignorance of the rights of seigneurs, 
 and from my charitable impulses, of which she knew 
 that her Majesty would approve, glancing significantly 
 towards Father Vincent as she did so. She was sure, 
 she added, that Her Majesty's tenderness of heart must 
 sympathise with a young widow, whose husband had 
 fallen in the service of the King, and who had an only 
 son to bring up. I felt the Eegent's beautiful blue 
 eyes scanning me, but it was not unkindly, though she 
 said : 
 
 " How is this, Madame ? I hear that you have 
 taught the peasants to complain of the seignorial rights, 
 and to expect to have the corv6e and all other dues 
 remitted." 
 
 I made answer that in truth all I had done was to 
 remit those claims here and there which had seemed to 
 me to press hard upon the tenants of our own estate; 
 and I think the Eegent was moved by a look from Father 
 Vincent to demand an example, so I mentioned that I 
 would not have the poor forced to carry our crops on the 
 only fine day in a wet season. 
 
 " Ah, bah ! " said Queen Anne ; " that was an over- 
 refinement, Madame. It does not hurt those creatures to 
 get wet." 
 
 She really had not the least notion that a wetting 
 ruined their crops ; and when I would have answered,
 
 XL] THE TWO QUEENS. 133 
 
 my godmother and mother made me a sign to hold my 
 tongue, while Queen Henrietta spoke : 
 
 " Your Majesty sees how it is ; my godchild has the 
 enthusiasm of charity, and you, my sister, with your 
 surroundings, will not blame her if she has carried it a 
 little into excess." 
 
 " Your Majesty will pardon me for asking if there 
 can be excess ? " said Father Vincent. " I think I recog- 
 nise this lady. Did I not meet Madame at the little 
 village of St. Felix ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, my father," I replied. " I have ever since 
 blessed the day, when you comforted me and gave me 
 the key of life." 
 
 " There, father," said the Eegent, " it is your doing ; 
 it is you that have made her a firebrand. You must 
 henceforth take the responsibility." 
 
 " I ask no better of your Majesty," said the hol}^ man. 
 
 " Ah ! your Majesty, I can ask no better," I said 
 fervently ; and I knelt to kiss the beautiful hand which 
 Anne of Austria extended to me in token of pardon. 
 
 " It is understood, then," said she, in a gracious though 
 languid way, as if weary of the subject, "that your Majesty 
 undertakes that Madame becomes more prudent in the 
 future, and puts her benevolence under the rule of our 
 good father, who will never let her go beyond what is 
 wise in the bounds of a young woman's discretion." 
 
 It might be hard to believe that I had been
 
 134 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 indiscreet, but the grand stately self - possession of 
 that Spanish lady, and the evident gratification of my 
 mother and Queen Henrietta, quite overpowered me into 
 feeling like a criminal received to mercy, and I returned 
 thanks with all the genuine humility they could desire ; 
 after which the regent overpowered my mother with 
 wonder at her graciousness by inquiring for my son, 
 asking how old he was, and appointing a day for him to 
 kiss the King's hand in the Tuileries gardens. 
 
 By this time her breakfast was being brought in (it 
 was about one o'clock), and Queen Henrietta carried us 
 off without waiting for the ceremony of the breakfast, or 
 of the toilet, which began with the little King presenting 
 his mother with her chemise, with a tender kiss. Made- 
 moiselle remained, and so did Father Vincent, whom the 
 regent was wont to consult at her breakfast, both on 
 matters of charity and of Church patronage. 
 
 My mother was delighted that I had come off so well; 
 she only regretted my being put under Father Vincent, 
 who would, she feared, render me too devout. 
 
 The next afternoon, which was Sunday, we went, all 
 except my brother and sister, who had what my mother 
 called Puritan notions as to Sunday, to see royalty walk 
 in the Tuileries gardens. The Queen was there, slowly 
 pacing along with one of her sons on each side, and 
 beautiful boys they were, in their rich dresses of blue 
 velvet and white satin, with rich lace garnishings, their
 
 XI.] THE TWO QUEENS. 135 
 
 long fair hair on their shoulders, and their plumed hats 
 less often on their heads than in their hands, as they 
 gracefully acknowledged the homage that met them at 
 each step. Perhaps I thought my Gaspard quite as 
 beautiful, but every widow's only son is the king of her 
 heart; and we had so trained the boy that he did his 
 part to perfection, kneeUng and kissing the hand which 
 King Louis extended to him. Yet it had — to me who 
 was fresh to such scenes — something of the air of a 
 little comedy, to see such gestures of respect between the 
 two children so splendidly dressed, and neither of them 
 yet nine years old. 
 
 The little King did his part well, presented M. le 
 Marquis de Nidemerle to his brother the Duke of Anjou, 
 asked graciously whether he could ride and what games 
 he loved best, and expressed a courteous desire that they 
 might often meet. 
 
 My sister-in-law was also presented to the Queen, 
 who filled her with ecstasy by making her some compli- 
 ment on the services of M. le Comte d'Aubepine, and 
 thus began our career at court. We were in favour, and 
 my mother breathed freely.
 
 136 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 CAVALIERS IN EXILE. 
 
 My safety and freedom being thus secure, I was asked, 
 as mistress of the house, whether I would continue the 
 custom my mother had begun of receiving on a Monday, 
 chiefly for the sake of our exiled countryfolk at Paris. 
 
 It had been left in doubt, till my fate and my wishes 
 should be known, whether the reunion should take place 
 on the Monday or not ; but all lived so simply and 
 within so short a distance that it was very easy to make 
 it known that Lady Walwyn and Madame de Bellaise 
 would receive as usual. 
 
 The rule in ordinary French society was then as now, 
 to offer only eau-sucrSe, sherbets, and light cakes as 
 refreshments, but my mother told me with some disgust 
 that it was necessary to have something more substantial 
 on the buffet for these great Englishmen. 
 
 " Yes," said Annora, " I do believe it is often the only 
 meal worth the name that they get in a week, unless my 
 brother invites them to supper."
 
 XII.] CAVALIERS IN EXILE. 137 
 
 On learning this Tryphena and I resolved that 
 though pies were the most substantial dish at present 
 prepared, we would do our best another time to set 
 before them such a round of salt beef as would rejoice 
 their appetites ; and oh ! the trouble we had in accom- 
 plishing it. 
 
 Meantime I submitted to be dressed as my mother 
 wished, much indeed as I am now, except that my hair 
 was put into little curls, and I had no cap. The Queen- 
 Eegent wore none, so why should I ? Moreover, my 
 mother said that it would not be good taste to put on 
 any jewels among the English. 
 
 Alas ! I could see why, as the salon filled with gentle- 
 men and ladies, far fewer of the last than the first, for 
 some wives had been left at home with their children to 
 keep possession of the estates, and send what supplies 
 they could to their lords in exile. Some, like brave 
 Lady Fanshawe, travelled backwards and forwards again 
 and again on their husbands' affairs ; and some who were 
 at Paris could not afford a servant nor leave their little 
 children, and others had no dress fit to appear in. And 
 yet some of the dresses were shabby enough — frayed 
 satin or faded stained brocade, the singes and the creases 
 telling of hard service and rough usage. The gentlemen 
 were not much better : some had their velvet coats worn 
 wofuUy at the elbows, and the lace of their collars 
 darned ; indeed those were the best off, for there were
 
 138 STEAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 some who had no ladies to take care of them, whose fine 
 Flanders lace was in terrible holes. 
 
 Some gallants indeed there were to ruffle it as sprucely 
 as ever, and there were a few who had taken service as 
 musketeers or archers of the guard ; but these were at that 
 time few, for the King was still living, and they did not 
 despair of an accommodation which would soon bring 
 them home again. As my mother had predicted, the 
 gentlemen with the ragged lace tried in vain to affect 
 indifference to the good things on the buffet, till they had 
 done their devoir by me as their hostess. Eustace and 
 Nan were on the watch and soon were caring for them, 
 and heaping their plates with food, and then it was that 
 my sister's face began to light up, and I knew her for 
 herself again, while there was a general sound of full gruff 
 English voices all round, harsh and cracking my mother 
 called it, but Nan said it was perfect music to her, and 
 I think she began to forgive me when she found that to 
 me likewise it had a sound of home. 
 
 But my mother was greatly gratified that evening, 
 for there appeared in our salon the dark bright face of 
 the Prince of Wales, closely followed by a tall hand- 
 some man in the prime of life, whom I had never seen 
 before. 
 
 "Do not derange yourself," said Prince Charles, 
 bending his black head, bowing right and left, and signing 
 with his hand to people to continue their occupations.
 
 XII.] CAVALIERS IN EXILE. 139 
 
 " I always escape to places where I can hear English 
 tongues, and I wanted to congratulate Madame on her 
 reception yesterday, also to present to her my cousin 
 Prince Eupert, who arrived this afternoon." 
 
 Prince Eupert and some of the wiser and more politic 
 gentlemen, Eustace among them, drew apart in consulta- 
 tion, while the Prince of Wales stood by me. 
 
 " They are considering of a descent on the Isle of 
 Wight to carry off my father from Carisbrooke," he said. 
 
 " And will not your Highness be with them ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " Oh yes, I shall be with them, of course, as soon as 
 there is anything to be done ; but as to the ways and 
 means, they may arrange that as they choose. Are you 
 to be at Madame de Choisy's ball ? " 
 
 I was quite provoked with him for being able to 
 think of such matters when his father's rescue was at 
 stake ; but he bade me ask his mother and mine whether 
 it were not an important question, and then told me that 
 he must make me understand the little comedy in which 
 he was an actor. 
 
 Prince as he was, I could not help saying that I 
 cared more for the tragedy in which we all might be 
 actors ; and he shrugged his shoulders, and said that life 
 would be insupportable if all were to be taken in the 
 grand serious way. However, Prince Eupert appealed to 
 him, and he was soon absorbed into the consultation.
 
 UO STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 My brother told us the next morning of the plan. It 
 was that Prince Eupert, with the ships which he had in 
 waiting at Harfleur, should take a trusty band of cavaliers 
 from Paris, surprise Carisbrooke, and carry off His Sacred 
 Majesty. Eustace was eager to go with them, and would 
 listen to no representations from my mother of the danger 
 his health would incur in such an expedition in the month 
 of November. She wept and entreated in vain. 
 
 " What was his life good for," he said, " but to be 
 given for the King's service ? " 
 
 Then she appealed to me to persuade him, but he 
 looked at me with his bright blue eyes and said : 
 
 "Meg learned better in Lorraine;" and I went up 
 and kissed him with tears in my eyes, and said : " All ! 
 Madame, we have all had to learn how loyalty must 
 come before life, and what is better than life." 
 
 And then Annora cried out : " Well said, Margaret ! 
 I do believe that you are an honest Englishwoman 
 still." 
 
 My brother went his way to consult with some of 
 the other volunteers, and my mother called for her sedan 
 chair to go and see whether she could get an order from 
 Queen Henrietta to stop him, while Annora exclaimed : 
 
 " Yes ! I know how it is, and mother cannot see it. 
 Eustace cares little for his life now, and the only chance 
 of his ever overgetting it is the having something to do. 
 How can he forget while he lives moping here in banish-
 
 XII.] CAVALIEKS IN EXILE. 141 
 
 ment, with nothing better to do than to stroke the 
 Queen's spaniels ? " 
 
 Then of course I asked what he had to get over. I 
 knew he had had a boyish admiration for Millicent War- 
 dour, a young lady in Lady Northumberland's household, 
 but I had never dared inquire after her, having heard 
 nothing about her since I left England. My sister, 
 whose mistrust of me had quite given way, told me all 
 she knew. 
 
 Eustace had prevailed on my father to make proposals 
 of marriage for her, though not willingly, for my father 
 did not like the politics of her father. Sir James Wardour, 
 and my mother did not think the 5^oung gentlewoman a 
 sufficient match for the heir of Walwyn and Eibaumont. 
 There was much haggling over the dowry and marriage 
 portion, and in the midst, Sir James himself took, for his 
 second wife, a stern and sour Puritan dame. My mother 
 and she were so utterly alien to each other that they 
 affronted one another on their first introduction, and Sir 
 James entirely surrendered himself to his new wife ; the 
 match was broken off, and Millicent was carried away 
 into the country, having returned the ring and all other 
 tokens that Eustace had given her. 
 
 " I never esteemed her much," said Nan. " She was 
 a poor little white, spiritless thing, with a skin that they 
 called ivory, and great brown eyes that looked at one 
 like that young fawn with the broken leg. If I had
 
 142 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 been Eustace, I would have had some one with a little 
 more will of her own, and then he would not have been 
 served as he was." For the next thing that was heard 
 of her, and that by a mere chance, was that she was 
 married to Mynheer van Hunker, " a rascallion of an old 
 half-bred Dutchman," as my hot-tongued sister called 
 him, who had come over to fatten on our misfortunes by 
 buying up the cavaliers' plate and jewels, and lending 
 them money on their estates. He was of noble birth, 
 too, if a Dutchman could be, and he had an English 
 mother, so he pretended to be doing people a favour while 
 he was filling his own coffers ; and, worst of all, it was 
 he who had bought the chaplet of pearls, the King's 
 gift to the bravest of knights. 
 
 The tidings were heard in the midst of war and con- 
 fusion, and, so far as Nan knew, Eustace had made no 
 moan ; but some months later, when he was seeking a 
 friend among the slain at Cropredy Bridge, he came 
 upon Sir James Wardour mortally wounded, to whom he 
 gave some drink, and all the succour that was possible. 
 The dying man looked up and said : " Mr. Eib'mont, I 
 think. Ah ! sir, you were scurvily used. My lady 
 would have her way. My love to my poor wench ; I 
 
 wish she were in your keeping, but " Then he gave 
 
 some message for them both, and, with wandering senses, 
 pained Eustace intensely by forgetting that he was not 
 indeed Millicent's husband, and talking to him as such,
 
 XII.] CAVALIERS IN EXILE. U3 
 
 giving the last greetings ; and so he died in my brother's 
 arms. 
 
 Eustace wrote all that needed to be said, and sent the 
 letters, with the purse and tokens that Sir James had 
 given him for them, with a flag of truce to the enemy's camp. 
 
 Then came still darker days — my father's death at 
 Marston Moor, the year of losses, and Eustace's wound 
 at Naseby, and his illness almost to death. When he 
 was recovering, Harry Merrycourt, to whom he had 
 given his parole, was bound to take him to London for 
 his trial, riding by easy stages as he could endure it, 
 whilst Harry took as much care of him as if he had 
 been his brother. On the Saturday they were to halt 
 over the Sunday at the castle of my Lord Hartwell, who 
 had always been a notorious Eoundhead, having been one 
 of the first to take the Covenant. 
 
 Being very strong, and the neighbourhood being 
 mostly of the Eoundhead mind, his castle had been used 
 as a place of security by many of the gentry of the Par- 
 liamentary party while the Eoyal forces were near, and 
 they had not yet entirely dispersed, so that the place 
 overflowed with guests; and when Harry and Eustace 
 came down to supper, they found the hall full of com- 
 pany. Lord Walwyn was received as if he were simply 
 a guest. While he was being presented to the hostess on 
 coming down to supper, there was a low cry, then a con- 
 fusion amono^ the ladies, round some one who had fainted.
 
 144 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 " The foolish moppet," said my unmerciful sister, 
 " to expose herself and poor Walwyn in that way ! " 
 
 I pitied her, and said that she could not help it. 
 
 " I would have run my finger through with my bodkin 
 sooner than have made such a fool of myself," returned 
 N'an. "And to make it worse, what should come rolling 
 to my poor brother's feet but three or four of our pearls ? 
 The pearls of Eibaumont ! That was the way she kept 
 them when she had got them, letting the string break, 
 so that they rolled about the floor anyhow ! " 
 
 She had heard all this from Harry Merrycourt, and 
 also that my brother had gathered up the pearls, and, 
 with some other gentlemen, who had picked them up 
 while the poor lady was carried from the room, had given 
 them to my Lady Hartwell to be returned to Madame van 
 Hunker, not of course escaping the remark from some of 
 the stricter sort that it was a lesson against the being 
 adorned with pearls and costly array. 
 
 Madame van Hunker's swoon had not surprised any 
 one, for she was known to have been in very delicate 
 health ever since a severe illness which she had gone 
 through in London. She had been too weak to ac- 
 company her husband to Holland, and he had left her 
 under the care of Lady Hartwell, who was a kinswoman 
 of her own. Harry had only seen her again at supper 
 time the next day, when he marvelled at the suffering 
 such a pale little insignificant faded being could cause
 
 XII.] CAVALIERS IN EXILE. 145 
 
 Eustace, who, though silent and resolute, was, in the eyes 
 of one who knew him well — evidently enduring a great 
 trial with difficulty. 
 
 I heard the rest from my brother himself 
 
 He was in no condition to attend the service the 
 next day, not being able to walk to the Church, nor to sit 
 and stand in the draughty building through the prayer 
 and preaching that were not easily distinguished from 
 one another. He was glad of such a dispensation with- 
 out offence, for, children, though you suppose all Protest- 
 ants to be alike, such members of the English Church as 
 my family stand as far apart from the sects that dis- 
 tracted England as we do from the Huguenots ; and it 
 was almost as much against my brother's conscience to 
 join in their worship, as it would be against our own. 
 The English Church claims to be a branch of the true 
 Catholic Church, and there are those among the Galileans 
 who are ready to admit her claim. 
 
 Harry Merrycourt, who was altogether a political, not 
 a religious rebel, would gladly have kept Lord Walwyn 
 company ; but it was needful not to expose himself to 
 the suspicion of his hosts, who would have bestowed 
 numerous strange names on him had he absented 
 himself 
 
 And thus Eustace was left alone in the great hall, 
 lord and lady, guests and soldiers, men and maids, all 
 going off in procession across the fields ; while he had his 
 
 VOL. L L
 
 146 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 choice of the cushions in the sunny window, or of the 
 large arm-chair by the wood fire on the hearth. 
 
 All alone there he had taken out his Prayer-book, 
 a little black clasped book with my father's coat-of-arms 
 and one blood-stain on it — he loved it as we love our 
 Book of the Hours, and indeed, it is much the very same, 
 for which reason it was then forbidden in England — and 
 was kneeling in prayer, joining in spirit with the rest of 
 his Church, when a soft step and a rustle of garments 
 made him look up, and he beheld the white face and 
 trembling figure of poor Millicent. 
 
 " Sir," she said, as he rose, " I ask your pardon. I 
 should not have interrupted your devotions, but now is 
 your time. My servant's riding-dress is in a closet by 
 the buttery hatch, his horse is in the stable, there is no 
 sentry in the way, for I have looked all about. No one 
 will return to the house for at least two hours longer ; 
 you will have full time to escape." 
 
 I can see the smile of sadness with which my brother 
 looked into her face as he thanked her, and told her that 
 he was on his parole of honour. At that answer she 
 sank down into a chair, hiding her face and weeping — 
 weeping with such an agony of self-abandonment and 
 grief as rent my brother's very heart, while he stood in 
 grievous perplexity, unable to leave her alone in her 
 sorrow, yet loving her too well and truly to dare to con- 
 sole her. One or two broken words made him think she
 
 XII.] CAVALIEES IN EXILE. 147 
 
 feared for his life, and he made haste to assure her that 
 it was in no danger, since Mr. Merrycourt was assured of 
 bearing him safely through. She only moaned in answer, 
 and said presently something about living with such a 
 sort of people as made her forget what a cavalier's truth 
 and honour were. 
 
 He was sorely shaken, but he thought the best and 
 kindest mode of helping her to recover herself would be 
 to go on where he was in the morning prayer, and, being 
 just in the midst of their Litany, he told her so, and 
 read it aloud. She knelt with her head on the cushions 
 and presently sobbed out a response, growing calmer as 
 he went on. 
 
 When it was ended she had ceased weeping, though 
 Eustace said it was piteous to see how changed she was, 
 and the startled pleading look in the dark eyes that used 
 to look at him with such confiding love. 
 
 She said she had not heard those prayers since one 
 day in the spring, when she had stolen out to a house in 
 town where there was a gathering round one of the per- 
 secuted ministers, and alas ! her stepdaughters had sus- 
 pected her, and accused her to their father. He pursued 
 her, caused the train-bands to break in on the congregation 
 and the minister to be carried off to prison. It was this 
 that had brought on the sickness of which she declared 
 that she hoped to have died. 
 
 When Eustace would have argued against this wish,
 
 148 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 it brought out all that he would fain never have heard 
 nor known. 
 
 The poor young thing wished him to understand that 
 she had never been untrue to him in heart, as indeed was 
 but too plain, and she had only withdrawn her helpless 
 passive resistance to the marriage with Mr. Van Hunker 
 when Berenger's death had (perhaps wilfully) been re- 
 ported to her as that of Eustace de Eibaumont. She 
 had not known him to be alive till she had seen him the 
 day before. Deaths in her own family had made her an 
 heiress sufficiently well endowed to excite Van Hunker's 
 cupidity, but he had never affected much tenderness for 
 her. He was greatly her elder, she was his second wife, 
 and he had grown-up daughters who made no secret of 
 their dislike and scorn. Her timid drooping ways and 
 her Eoyalist sympathies offended her husband, shown up 
 before him as they were by his daughters, and, in short, 
 her life had been utterly miserable. Probably, as Annora 
 said, she had been wanting in spirit to rise to her situa- 
 tion, but of course that was not as my brother saw it. 
 He only beheld what he would have cherished torn from 
 him only to be crushed and flung aside at his very feet, yet 
 so that honour and duty forbade him to do anything for her. 
 
 What he said, or what comfort he gave her, I do not 
 fully know, for when he confided to me what grief it was 
 that lay so heavily on his lieart and spirits, he dwelt more 
 on her sad situation than on anytliing else. Tlie belief
 
 XII.] CAVALIEKS IN EXILE. 149 
 
 in her weakness and inconstancy had evoked in him a 
 spirit of defiance and resistance ; but when she was proved 
 guiltless and unhappy, the burden, though less bitter, was 
 far heavier. I only gathered that he, as the only like- 
 minded adviser she had seen for so long, had felt it his 
 duty to force himself to seem almost hard, cold, and 
 pitiless in the counsel he gave her. 
 
 I remember his very words as he writhed himself 
 with the pain of remembrance : " And then, Meg, I had 
 to treat the poor child as if I were a mere stone of ada- 
 mant, and chide her when my very heart was breaking 
 for her. One moment's softening, and where should we 
 have been ? And now I have added to her troubles that 
 fancy that I was obdurate in my anger .and implaca- 
 bility." I assured him that she would honour and thank 
 him in her heart for not having been weak, and he began 
 to repent of what he had left to be inferred, and to assure 
 me of his ha^dng neither said nor done anything that 
 could be censured, with vehement laudation of her sweet- 
 ness and modesty. 
 
 The interview had been broken up by the sight of 
 the return from Church. Mrs. Van Hunker had had full 
 time to retire to her room and Eustace to arrange him- 
 self, so that no one guessed at the visitor he had had. 
 She came down to supper, and a few words and civilities 
 had passed between them, but he had never either seen 
 or heard of her since.
 
 150 STKAY PEARLS. [CHAP 
 
 Harry Merrycourt, who had known of the early 
 passages between them, had never guessed that there was 
 more than the encounter in the hall to cause the melan- 
 choly which he kindly watched and bore with in ray 
 brother, who was seriously ill again after he reached their 
 lodgings in London, and indeed I thought at the time 
 when he was with me in Paris, that his decay of health 
 chiefly proceeded from sorrow of heart.
 
 XIII.] mademoiselle's toilette. 151 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 mademoiselle's toilette. 
 
 We were to go to Madame cle Clioisy's assembly. She 
 was the wife of the Chanceller of the Duke of Orleans, and 
 gave a fete every year, to which all the court went ; and, 
 by way of disarming suspicion, all the cavaliers who 
 were in the great world were to attend in order that their 
 plans might not be suspected. 
 
 Our kind Queen Henrietta insisted on inspecting 
 Nan and me before we went. She was delighted with 
 the way in which my mother had dressed our hair, made 
 her show how it was done, and declared it was exactly 
 what was suited to her niece. Mademoiselle, none of 
 whose women had the least notion of hairdressing. She 
 was going herself to the Luxembourg to put the finishing 
 touches, and Kan and I must come with her. I privately 
 thought my mother would have been more to the purpose, 
 but the Queen wanted to show the effect of the handi- 
 work. However, Nan disliked the notion very much, 
 and showed it so plainly in her face that the Queen
 
 152 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 exclaimed : " You are no courtier, Mademoiselle de 
 Eibaumont. Why did you not marry her to her 
 Eoundhead cousin, and leave her in England, Madame ? 
 Come, my god-daughter, you at least have learnt the art 
 of commanding your looks." 
 
 Poor Annora must have had a sad time of it with my 
 mother when we were gone. She was a good girl, but 
 she had grown up in rough times, and had a proud in- 
 dependent nature that chafed and checked at trifles, and 
 could not brook being treated like a hairdresser's block, 
 even Joy Queens and Princesses. She was likewise very 
 young, and she would have been angered instead of 
 amused at the scene which followed, which makes me 
 laugh whenever I think of it. 
 
 The Queen sent messages to know whether the Prince 
 of Wales were ready, and presently he came down in a 
 black velvet suit slashed with white and carnation ribbons, 
 and a little enamelled jewel on his gold chain, represent- 
 ing a goose of these three colours. His mother turned 
 him all round, smoothed his hair, fresh buckled his plume, 
 and admonished him with earnest entreaties to do himself 
 credit. 
 
 " I will, Madame," he said. " I will do my very 
 utmost to be worthy of my badge." 
 
 " Now, Charles, if you play the fool and lose her, I 
 will never forgive you." 
 
 I understood it soon. The Queen was bent on win-
 
 XIII.] mademoiselle's toilette. 153 
 
 ning for her son the hand of Mademoiselle, a grand- 
 daughter of France, and the greatest heiress there. If all 
 were indeed lost in England, he would thus be far from a 
 landless Prince, and her wealth might become a great assist- 
 ance to the royal cause in England. But Mademoiselle 
 was several years older than the Prince, and was besides 
 stiff, haughty, conceited, and not much to his taste, so 
 he answered rather sullenly that he could not speak 
 French. 
 
 "So much the better," said his motlier ; " you would 
 only be uttering follies. When I am not there, Eupert 
 must speak for you." 
 
 " Eupert is too High-Dutch to be much of a courtier," 
 said the Prince. 
 
 " Eupert is old enough to know what is for your 
 good, and not sacrifice all to a jest," returned his mother. 
 
 By this time the carriage had reached the Palais 
 Eoyal, We were told that Mademoiselle was still at her 
 toilette, and up we all went, through ranks of Swiss 
 and lackeys, to her apartments, to a splendid dressing- 
 room, where the Princess sat in a carnation dress, 
 richly ornamented with black and white, all complete 
 except the fastening the feather in her hair. The 
 friseur was engaged in this critical operation, and whole 
 ranks of ladies stood round, one of them reading aloud 
 one of Plutarch's Lives. The Queen came forward, with 
 the most perfect grace, crying : " Oh, it is ravishing !
 
 154 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 What a coincidence ! " and pointing to her son, as if the 
 similarity in colours had been a mere chance instead of a 
 contrivance of hers. 
 
 Then, with the most gracious deference in the world, 
 so as not to hurt the hairdresser's feelings, she showed 
 mj head, and begged permission to touch up her niece's, 
 kissing her as she did so. Then she signed to the 
 Prince to hold her little hand-mirror, and he obeyed, 
 kneeling on one knee before Mademoiselle ; while the 
 Queen, with hands that really were more dexterous than 
 those of any one I ever saw, excepting my mother, dealt 
 with her niece's hair, paying compliments in her son's 
 name all the time, and keeping him in check with her 
 eye. She contrived to work in some of her own jewels, 
 rubies and diamonds, to match the scarlet, black, and 
 white. I have since found the scene mentioned in Made- 
 moiselle's own memoirs, but she did not see a quarter of 
 tihe humour of it. She was serene in the certainty that 
 her aunt was paying court to her, and the assurance that 
 her cousin was doing the same, though she explains that, 
 having hopes of the Emperor, and thinking the Prince a 
 mere landless exile, she only pitied him. Little did she 
 guess how he laughed at her, his mother, and himself, 
 most of all at her airs, while his mother, scolding him all 
 the time, joined in the laugh, though she always main- 
 tained that Mademoiselle, in spite of her overweening 
 conceit and vanity, would become an excellent and
 
 XIII.] mademoiselle's toilette. 155 
 
 faithful wife, and make her husband's interests her 
 own. 
 
 " Eather too much so/' said the Prince, shrugging his 
 shoulders ; " we know what the Margaret of Anjou style 
 of wife can do for a King of England." 
 
 However, as he always did what any one teased him 
 about, if it were not too unpleasant, and as he was pas- 
 sionately fond of his mother, and was amused by playing 
 on the vanity of la grande Mademoiselle, he acted his part 
 capitally. It was all in dumb show, for he really could 
 not speak French at that time, though he could understand 
 what was said to him. He, like a good many other 
 Englishmen, held that the less they assimilated themselves 
 to their French hosts, the more they showed their hopes 
 of returning home, and it was not till after his expedition 
 to Scotland that he set himself to learn the language. 
 
 Queen Henrietta's skill in the toilette was noted. 
 She laughingly said that if everything else failed her 
 she should go into business as a hairdresser, and she 
 had hardly completed her work, before a message was 
 brought from Queen Anne to desire to see Mademoiselle 
 in her full dress. 
 
 I do not know what would have become of me, if my 
 good-natured royal godmother, who never forgot anybody, 
 had not packed me into a carriage with some of the ladies 
 who were accompanying Mademoiselle. That lady had a 
 suite of her own, and went about quite independently of
 
 156 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 her father and her stepmother, who, though a Princess of 
 Lorraine, was greatly contemned and slighted by the 
 proud heiress. 
 
 I was put ail couroMt with all this by the chatter of 
 the ladies in the coach. I did not know them, and in 
 the dark they hardly knew who was there. Men with 
 flambeaux ran by the side of the carriage, and now and 
 then the glare fell across a smiling face, glanced on a 
 satin dress, or gleamed back from some jewels ; and then 
 we had a long halt in the court of the Tuileries, while 
 Mademoiselle went to the Queen-Eegent to be inspected. 
 We waited a long time, and I heard a great deal of gossip 
 before we were again set in motion, and when once off 
 we soon found ourselves in the court of the Hotel de 
 Choisy, where we mounted the stairs in the rear of Made- 
 moiselle, pausing on the way through the anteroom, in 
 order to give a final adjustment to her head-dress before 
 a large mirror, the Prince of Wales standing obediently 
 beside .her, waiting to hand her into the room, so that the 
 two black, white, and carnation figures were reflected side 
 by side, which was, I verily believe, the true reason of her 
 stopping there, for Queen Henrietta's handiwork was too 
 skilful to require retouching. Prince Eupert was close 
 by, to act as interpreter, his tall, powerful figure towering 
 above them both, and his dark eyes looking as if his 
 thoughts were far off, yet keeping in control the young 
 Prince's great inclination to grimace and otherwise make
 
 XIII.] mademoiselle's toilette. 157 
 
 game of Mademoiselle's magnificent affectations and 
 condescensions. 
 
 I was rather at a loss, for the grand salon was one 
 sea of feathers, bright satins and velvets, and curled 
 heads, and though I tried to come in with Mademoiselle's 
 suite I did not properly belong to it, and my own party 
 were entirely lost to me. I knew hardly any one, and 
 was quite unaccustomed to the great world, so that, 
 though the Princess's dame de compagnie was very kind, 
 I seemed to belong to no one in that great room, where 
 the ladies were sitting? in loner rows, and the orentlemen 
 parading before them, paying their court to one after 
 another, while the space in the middle was left free for 
 some distinguished pair to dance the menuet de la cour. 
 
 The first person I saw, whom I knew, was the 
 Duchess of Longueville, more beautiful than when I 
 had met her before as Mademoiselle de Bourbon, per- 
 fectly dazzling, indeed, with her majestic bearing and 
 exquisite complexion, but the face had entirely lost that 
 innocent, wistful expression that had so much enchanted 
 me before. Half a dozen gentlemen were buzzing round 
 her, and though I once caught her eye she did not know 
 me, and no wonder, for I was much more changed than 
 she was. However, there I stood forlorn, in an access 
 of English shyness, not daring to take a chair near any 
 of the strangers, and looking in vain for my mother or 
 one of my brothers.
 
 158 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 " Will not Madame take a seat beside me ? " said a 
 kind voice. " I think I have had the honour of making 
 her acquaintance," she added, as our eyes met ; " it is 
 the Gildippe of happier times." 
 
 Then I knew her for Mademoiselle d'Argennes, now 
 Duchess of Montausier, the same who had been so Idnd 
 to me at the Hotel de Eambouillet on my first arrival at 
 Paris. Most gladly did I take my seat by her as an old 
 friend, and I learned from her that her mother was not 
 present, and she engaged me to go and see her at the 
 Hotel de Eambouillet the next morning, telling me that 
 M. de Soli vet had spoken of me, and that Madame de 
 Eambouillet much wished to see me. Then she kindly 
 told me the names of many of the persons present, among 
 whom were more gens de la rohe than it was usual for us 
 of the old nobility to meet. They were indeed ennobled, 
 and thus had no imposts to pay, but that did not put 
 them on a level with the children of crusaders. So said 
 my mother and her friends, but I could not but be struck 
 with the fine countenance and grave collected air of the 
 President Mathieu de Mole, who was making his bow 
 to the hostess. 
 
 Presently, in the violet robes of a Bishop, for which 
 he looked much too young, there strolled up a keen-faced 
 man with satirical eyes, whom Madame de Montausier 
 presented as "Monseigneur le Coadjuteur." This was 
 the Archbishop of Corinth, Paul de Gondi, Coadjutor to
 
 XIII.] mademoiselle's toilette. 159 
 
 his uncle, the Archbishop of Paris. I think he was the 
 most amusing talker I ever heard, only there was a great 
 spice of malice in all that he said — or did not say ; and 
 Madame de Montausier kept him in check, as she well 
 knew how to do. 
 
 At last, to my great joy, I saw my brother walking 
 with a young man in the black dress of an advocate. 
 He came up to me, and the Duchess bade me present 
 him, declaring herself delighted to make the acquaintance 
 of a brave English cavalier, and at the same time greet- 
 ing his companion as Monsieur Darpent. Eustace pre- 
 sently said that my mother had sent him in quest of me, 
 and he conducted me through the salon to another 
 apartment, where the ladies, as before, sat with their 
 backs to the wall, excepting those who were at card- 
 tables, a party having been made up for Monsieur. On 
 my way I was struck both with the good mien and good 
 sense of the young lawyer, who still stood conversing 
 with my brother after I had been restored to my mother. 
 The cloud cleared up from Annora's face as she listened, 
 making her look as lovely and as animated as when she 
 was in English company. The conversation was not by 
 any means equally pleasing to my mother, who, on the 
 first opportunity, broke in with " My son," and sent my 
 brother off in search of some distinguished person to 
 whom she wished to speak, and she most expressingly 
 frowned off his former companion, who would have con-
 
 160 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 tinued the conversation with my sister and me, where- 
 upon Nan's face, which was always far too like a window, 
 became once more gloomy. 
 
 When we went home, it appeared that my mother 
 was well satisfied that I should be invited to the Hotel 
 de Eambouillet. It was a distinguished thing to have 
 the entrde there, though for her part she thought it very 
 wearisome to have to listen to declamations about she 
 knew not what ; and there was no proper distinction of 
 rank^ kept up, any more than at the Hotel de Choisy, 
 where one expected it. And, after all, neither Monsieur 
 nor Madame de Eambouillet were of the old noUesse. 
 The Argennes, like the Eambouillets, only dated from 
 the time of the League, when they had in private con- 
 firmed the sentence of death on the Duke of Guise, 
 which had been carried out by his assassination. Strange 
 to look at the beautiful and gentle Julie, and know her 
 to be sprung from such a stem ! 
 
 Then my mother censured Eustace for bad taste in 
 talking over his case with his la\v}^er in public. He 
 laughed, and assured her that he had never even thought 
 of his suit, but had been discussing one of the pictures 
 on the walls, a fine Veronese — appealing to me if it were 
 not so ; but she was not satisfied ; she said he should 
 not have encouraged the presumption of that little 
 advocate by presenting him to his sisters. 
 
 Eustace never attempted argument with her, but went
 
 XIII.] mademoiselle's toilette. 161 
 
 his own way ; and when Annora broke out with something 
 about Mr. Hyde and other lawyers, such as Harry Merry- 
 court, being company for any one in London, she was 
 instantly silenced for presuming to argue with her 
 elders. 
 
 I had a happy morning with Mesdames de Eam- 
 bomllet and De Montausier, who showed the perfect 
 union of mother and daugjhter. 
 
 In the little cabinet where Madame de Eambouillet 
 read and studied so much in order to be able to fill her 
 eminent position, she drew out from me all my story and 
 all my perplexities, giving me advice as a wise woman of 
 my own Church alone could do, and showing me how much 
 I might still do in my life at Paris. She advised me, as 
 I had been put under Father Vincent's guidance, to seek 
 him at the Church of St. Sulpice, where, on certain days 
 of the week, he was accessible to ladies wishing to under- 
 take pious works. For the rest, she said that a little 
 resolution on my part would enable me to reserve the 
 early part of the day for study and the education of my 
 son ; and she fully approved of my giving the evenings 
 to society, and gave me at once the entree to her circle. 
 She insisted that I should remain on that day and dine 
 with her, and Madame de Montausier indited two charm- 
 ing billets, which were sent to invite our . family to join 
 us there in the evening. 
 
 " It will not be a full circle," she said ; " but I think 
 VOL. L M
 
 162 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 your brother treats as a friend a young man who is there 
 to make his first essai." 
 
 " M. Darpent ? " I asked ; and I was told that I was 
 right, and that the young advocate had been writing a 
 discourse upon Cicero which he was to read aloud to the 
 fair critics and their friends. Madame de Montausier 
 added that his father was a counsellor in the Parliament, 
 who had originally been a Huguenot, but had converted 
 himself with all his family, and had since held several 
 good appointments. She thought the young man, Cle- 
 ment Darpent, likely to become a man of mark, and she 
 did not like him the less for having retained something 
 of the Huguenot gravity. 
 
 The dinner was extremely pleasant ; we followed it 
 up by a walk in the beautifully laid out gardens ; and 
 after we had rested, the reception began, but only in the 
 little green cabinet, as it was merely a select few who 
 were to be admitted to hear the young aspii^ant. 1 
 watched anxiously for the appearance of my family, and 
 presently in came Eustace and Annora. My mother 
 had the migraine, and my brother had taken upon him, 
 without asking leave, to carry off" my sister ! 
 
 I had never seen her look so well as she did, with 
 that little spirit of mischief upon her, lighting her beau- 
 tiful eyes and colouring her cheeks. Madame de Eam- 
 bouillet whispered to me that she was a perfect nymph, 
 with lier look of health and freshness. Then M. Darpent
 
 XIII.] mademoiselle's toilette. 163 
 
 came in, and his grave face blushed with satisfaction as 
 he saw his friend, my Lord Walwyn, present. 
 
 His was a fine face, though too serious for so young 
 a man. It was a complete oval, the hair growing back 
 on the forehead, and the beard bemg dark and pointed, 
 the complexion a clear pale brown, the eyes with some- 
 thing of Italian softness in them, rather than of French 
 vivacity, the brows almost as if drawn with a pencil, the 
 mouth very grave and thoughtful except when lighted 
 by a smile of unusual sweetness. As a lawyer, his dress 
 was of plain black with a little white collar fastened by 
 two silken tassels (such as I remember my Lord Falk- 
 land used to wear). It became him better than the gay 
 coats of some of our nobles. 
 
 The circle being complete by this time, the young 
 orator was placed in the midst, and began to read aloud 
 his manuscript, or rather to recite it, for after the fire of 
 his subject began to animate him, he seldom looked at 
 the paper. 
 
 It was altogether a grand and eloquent discourse 
 upon the loyalty and nobihty of holding with unswerving 
 faith to the old laws and constitutions of one's country 
 against all fraud, oppression, and wrong, tracing how 
 Cicero's weak and vain character grew stronger at the 
 call of patriotism, and how eagerly and bravely the once 
 timid man finally held out his throat for the knife. It 
 might be taken as the very highest witness to the manner
 
 164 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 in which he had used his divine gift of rhetoric, that 
 Tulvia's first thought was to show her bitter hatred by 
 piercing his eloquent tongue ! " Yes, my friends," he 
 conchided, with his eyes glancing round, " that insult to 
 the dead was the tribute of tyranny to virtue ! " 
 
 Annora's hands were clasped, her cheeks were flushed, 
 her eyes glanced with the dew of admiration, and there 
 were others who were carried along by the charm of the 
 young orator's voice and enthusiasm ; but there were also 
 anxious glances passing, especially between the divine 
 Arthenice and her son-in-law, M. de Montausier, and 
 when there had been time for the compliments the dis- 
 course merited to be freely given, Madame de Eambouillet 
 said : " My dear friend, the tribute may be indeed the 
 highest, but it can scarcely be the most appreciable 
 either by the fortunate individual or his friends. I 
 therefore entreat that the most eloquent discourse of 
 our youthful Cicero may remain a valued secret among 
 the sincere circle of admirers who have listened 
 to it." 
 
 Everybody bowed assent, but the young man himself 
 began, with some impetuosity : " Madame will believe me 
 that I had not the slightest political intention. I spoke 
 simply as a matter of histor}^" 
 
 " I am perfectly aware of it, Monsieur," returned the 
 Marquise; " but all the world does not understand as well 
 as I do how one may be carried away by the fervour of
 
 XIII.] ' mademoiselle's toilette. 165 
 
 imagination to identify oneseK and one's surroundings 
 with those of which one speaks." 
 
 " Madame is very severe on the absent/' said M. 
 Darpent. 
 
 " Monsieur thinks I have inferred more treason than 
 he has spoken," said Madame de Eambouillet gaily. 
 " Well, be it so ; I am an old woman, and you, my friend, 
 have your career yet to come, and I would have you 
 remember that though the great Csesar be dead, yet the 
 bodkin was not in his time." 
 
 " I understand, Madame, after the lion comes the fox. 
 I thank you for your warning until the time " 
 
 " Come, come, we do not intend to be all undone 
 in the meantime," exclaimed Madame de Eambouillet. 
 " Come, who will give us a vaudeville or something joyous 
 to put out the grand serious, and send us home gay? 
 My dear Countess," and she turned to a bright-looking 
 young lady, " relate to us, I entreat of you, one of your 
 charming fairy tales." 
 
 And the Countess d'Aulnoy, at her request, seated 
 herself in a large arm-chair, and told us with infinite 
 grace the story I have so often told you, my grand- 
 children, of the White Cat and the three Princes.
 
 166 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP 
 
 CHAPTEE XIY. 
 
 COURT APPOINTMENT. 
 
 The expected descent on the Isle of Wight did not take 
 place, for though Prince Eupert was High Admiral, so 
 large a portion of the fleet was disaffected that it was 
 not possible to effect anything. Before long, he went 
 back to the ships he had at Helvoetsluys, taking the 
 Prince of Wales with him. My brother Walwyn yielded 
 to an earnest entreaty that he would let us take care of 
 him at Paris till there was some undertaking really in hand. 
 Besides, he was awaiting the issue of his cause respecting 
 the Eibaumont property in Picardy, to which the Count 
 de Poligny set up a claim in right of a grant by King 
 Henry III. in the time of the League. It must be con- 
 fessed that the suit lingered a good deal, in spite of the 
 zeal of the young advocate, M. Clement Darpent, — 
 nay, my mother and my brother De Solivet sometimes 
 declared, because of his zeal ; for the Darpent family 
 were well known as inclined to the Fronde party. 
 
 They had been Huguenots, but had joined the Churcli
 
 XIV.] COURT APPOINTMEJ^T. 167 
 
 some twenty years before, as it was said, because of the 
 increased disabilities of Huguenots in the legal profession, 
 and it was averred that much of the factious Calvinist 
 leaven still hung about them. At this time I never 
 saw the parents, but Eustace had contracted a warm 
 friendship with the son, and often went to their house. 
 My mother fretted over this friendship far more, as 
 Annora used to declare, than if he had been intimate 
 with the wildest of the roystering cavaliers, or the most 
 dissipated of the petits mcdtres of Paris. But Eustace 
 was a man now, made older than his twenty-five years 
 by what he had undergone, and though always most 
 respectful to my mother, he could not but follow his own 
 judgment and form his own friendships. And my 
 mother's dislike to having Clement Darpent at the Hotel 
 de Nidemerle only led to Walwyn's frequenting the Maison 
 Darpent more than he might have done if he could have 
 seen his friend at home without vexinor l^er. 
 
 I do not think that he much liked the old Counsellor, 
 but he used to say that Madame Darpent was one of the 
 most saintly beings he had ever seen. She had one married 
 daughter, and two more, nuns at Port Eoyal, and she was 
 with them in heart, the element of Augustinianism in the 
 Jansenist teaching having found a responsive chord in her 
 soul from her Calvinist education. She spent her whole 
 time, even while living in the world, in prayers, pious 
 exercises, and works of charity, and she would fain have
 
 168 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 induced her son to quit secular life and become one of 
 those recluses who inhabited the environs of Port Eoyal, 
 and gave themselves to labour of mind and of hand, 
 producing works of devotion and sacred research, and 
 likewise making a paradise of the dreary unwholesome 
 swamp in which stood Port Eoyal des Champs. Clement 
 Darpent had, however, no vocation for such a life, or 
 rather he was not convinced in his own mind that it was 
 expedient for him. He was eight or nine years old when 
 the conversion of his family had taken place, and his 
 mothdr had taught him carefully her original faith. Her 
 conversion had been, no one could doubt, most hearty 
 and sincere, and her children had gone with her in all 
 simplicity; but the seeds she had previously sown in 
 her son's mind sprang up as he grew older, and when 
 Eustace became his friend, he was, though outwardly 
 conforming, restless and dissatisfied, by no means dis- 
 posed to return to Calvinism, and yet with too much 
 of the old leaven in him to remain contented in the 
 Church. He was in danger of throwing off all thought 
 of the faith and of Divine things in his perplexity, 
 and I know many of our advisers would say this was 
 best, provided he died at last in the bosom of the 
 Catholic Church ; but I can never think so, and, as 
 things stood, Eustace's advice aided him in remaining at 
 that time where he was, a member of the Church. My 
 brother himself was, my mother ardently hoped, likely
 
 XIV.] COURT APPOINTMENT. 169 
 
 to join our communion. The Abbe Walter Montagu, 
 who had himself been a convert, strove hard to win him 
 over, trying to prove to him that the English Church 
 was extinct, stifled by her own rebellious heretic chil- 
 dren, so soon as the grace that was left in her began to 
 work so as to bring her back to Catholic doctrine and 
 practice. His argument was effectual with many of our 
 fugitives, but not with my brother. He continued still 
 to declare that he believed that his Church was in the 
 course of being purified, and would be raised up again at 
 last ; and his heart was too loyal to desert her, any more 
 than his King, because of her misfortunes. 'No one shall 
 ever make me believe that he was wrong. As to Annora, I 
 believe she would rather have been a Huguenot outright 
 than one of us, and she only half trusted me for a long time. 
 We had begun to settle down into regular habits ; 
 indeed, except for the evenings, our days were almost 
 more alike than when in the country. I had gone, as 
 Madame de Eambouillet had advised me, to Father 
 Vincent, and he introduced me to the excellent Madapae 
 Goussault, who had the sweetest old face I ever saw. 
 She made me a member of the society for attending the 
 poor in the Hotel Dieu, and my regular days were set 
 apart, twice a week, for waiting on the sick. We all 
 wore a uniform dress of dark stuff, with a white apron 
 and tight white cap, and, unless we were very intimate, 
 were not supposed to recognise one another.
 
 170 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 There was good reason for this. At the next bed 
 to that of my patient there was a lady most tenderly, 
 if a little awkwardly, bathing a poor man's face with 
 essences. Her plump form, beautiful hands, and slightly 
 Spanish accent, could only belong to one person, I thought, 
 l)ut I could hardly believe it, and I turned my eyes away, 
 and tried the more diligently to teach my poor ignorant 
 patient the meaning of his Pater and Ave, when suddenly 
 there was a burst of scolding and imprecation from the 
 other bed. The essence had gone into the man's eye, 
 and he, a great rough hucheron, was reviling the awkward- 
 ness and meddling of ladies in no measured terms, while 
 his nurse stood helplessly wringing her white hands, 
 imploring his pardon, but quite unaware of what was to 
 be done. Happily, I had a sponge and some warm water 
 near, and I ran up with it and washed the man's eyes, 
 while the lady thanked me fervently, but the man growled 
 ou t : 
 
 " That is better ; if women will come fussing over us 
 
 with what they don't understand You are the right 
 
 sort ; but for her " 
 
 " Do not stop him," hastily said the lady, with her 
 hand on my arm. " I love it ! I rejoice in it ! Do not 
 deprive me, for the love of Heaven ! " 
 
 I knew who she was then, and Madame de Montausier 
 told me I^was right; but that I must keep the secret; 
 and so I did, till after Queen Anne of Austria was dead.
 
 XIV.] COURT APPOINTMENT. 171 
 
 She would not let her rank deprive her of the privilege 
 of waiting on the poor, unknown and unthanked ; and 
 many hours, when those who blamed her for indolence 
 supposed her to be in bed, she was attending the hospital. 
 
 Cecile was never strong enough to give her attendance 
 there, but she made clothes which were given to the 
 patients when they came out. We spent our mornings 
 much as of old ; the two elder children generally went to 
 mass with me at St. Germain I'Auxerrois, and if the day 
 were fine, I would take them for a few turns in the 
 Tuileries Gardens afterwards before I taught them their 
 little lessons, and gave my orders to the servants. 
 
 Then all the family met at breakfast, after which 
 Gaspard had half an hour more of study with the Abbe, 
 for he was beginning Latin, and was a very promising- 
 scholar. He prepared his tasks with me before breakfast, 
 and got on admirably. 
 
 Then, unless I had to be at the hospital, we sat 
 together at our embroidery — Cecile, Annora, and I — while 
 the Abbe read to us. It was very hard to poor ^an to 
 sit still, work, and listen. She had been used to such an 
 active unsettled life during the war, and had been put 
 to so many shifts, having at times for months together 
 to do servant's work, that she knew not how to be quiet. 
 Embroidery seemed to her useless, when she had cooked 
 and washed, and made broths, and scraped lint for the 
 wounded, and she could not care for the history of the
 
 172 STRAY PEAELS. [CHAP. 
 
 Eomans, even when Eustace had given her his word they 
 were not Eoman Catholics. 
 
 She used to say she had the cramp, or that her foot 
 was asleep, and rush off to play with the children, or to 
 see if my mother wanted her. My mother did not care 
 for the reading, but she did want Nan to learn to sit 
 in her chair and embroider, like a demoiselle lien devde, 
 instead of a wild maiden of the civil wars. However, 
 my mother spent most of her day in waiting on the 
 Queen of England, who was very fond of her, and liked 
 to have lier at her lev4e, so that we really saw very little 
 of her. 
 
 My brother, when not needed by his Queen, nor in 
 consultation with the cavaliers, or with his lawyers, would 
 often join in our morning's employment. He w^as not 
 strong, and he liked to recline in a large chair that I 
 kept ready for him, and listen while the Abbe read, or 
 sometimes discuss with him questions that arose in the 
 reading, and this was a great relief to Nan, who seldom 
 declared that her feet tingled when he was there. 
 
 After our dinner we either walked in the garden 
 where the children played, or went out to make visits. 
 In the evening there were receptions. We had one 
 evening to which, as I said, came our poor exiled country- 
 men, and there were other assemblies, to some of which 
 we went by invitation ; but at the Hotel de Eambouillet, 
 and one or two others, we knew we were always welcome.
 
 XIV.] COUKT APPOINTMENT. 173 
 
 There we heard M. Corneille read the Cicl, one of his 
 finest pieces, before it was put on the stage. I cannot 
 describe how those noble verses thrilled in our ears and 
 hearts, how tears were shed and hands clasped, and how 
 even Annora let herself be carried along by the tide. 
 Clement Darpent was often there, and once or twice 
 recited again, but Madame de Eambouillet always took 
 care first to know what he was going to say. A poem 
 upon St. Monica was the work of his that I liked best, 
 but it was not so much admired as verses more concerned 
 with the present. 
 
 The Prince of Conde came back to Paris for a few 
 weeks, and my poor Cecile was greatly disappointed that 
 her husband remained in garrison and did not come with 
 him. " But then," as she said to console herself, " every 
 month made the children prettier, and she was trying to 
 be a little more nice and agreeable." 
 
 Two appointments were made for which I was less 
 grateful than was my mother. My little son was made 
 one of the King's gentlemen of the bedchamber, and 
 Mademoiselle requested me to be one of her ladies-in- 
 waiting. She was very good-natured, provided she thought 
 herself obeyed, and she promised that my turn should 
 always come at the same time as my son's, so that I 
 might be at home with him. I was a little laughed at, 
 and my former name of Gildippe was made to alternate 
 with that of Cornelia ; but French mothers have always
 
 174 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 been devoted to their sons, and there was some sympathy 
 with me among the ladies. 
 
 I owned that my presence was required at home, for 
 Gaspard generally came back a much naughtier boy than 
 he went, and with a collection of bad words that I had 
 to proscribe. Before the Queen- Eegent, the little King 
 and the Duke of Anjou were the best boys in the world, 
 and as stately and well-mannered as became the first 
 gentlemen of France ; but when once out of her sight 
 they were the most riotous and mischievous children in 
 the world, since nobody durst restrain, far less punish 
 them. They made attacks on the departments of the 
 stewards and cooks, kicking and biting any one who tried 
 to stop them, and devouring fruit and sweetmeats till 
 their fine clothes were all bedaubed, and they them- 
 selves indisposed, and then their poor valets suffered 
 for it. The first time this happened my poor Gaspard 
 was so much shocked that he actually told the King that 
 it was dishonourable to let another suffer for his fault. 
 
 " I would have you to know. Monsieur le ]\Iarquis," 
 said Louis XIV., drawing himself up, " that the King of 
 France is never in fault." 
 
 However, I will say for His Majesty that it was the 
 Duke of Anjou who told the Queen that the little Mde- 
 merle had been disrespectful, and thus caused the poor 
 child to be sent home, severely beaten, and with a repri- 
 mand to me for not bringing him up better.
 
 XIV.] COURT APPOINTMENT. 175 
 
 I leave you to guess how furious I was, and how I 
 raged about the house till I frightened my mother, Annora 
 backing me up with all her might. We were almost 
 ready to take Gaspard in our hands and escape at once 
 to England. Even in its present sad state I should at 
 least be able to bring up my boy without having him 
 punished for honourable sentiments and brave speeches. 
 Of course it was the Abbe on the one hand, and Eustace 
 on the other, who moderated me, and tried to show me, 
 as well as my son, that though the little Louis might be 
 a naughty boy, the kingly dignity was to be respected in 
 him. 
 
 " Thou wouldst not blame thy mother even if she 
 were in fault," argued Eustace. 
 
 " But my mother never is in fault," said Gaspard, 
 throwing himself into my arms. 
 
 ''• Ah, there spoke thy loyal heart, and a Frenchman 
 should have the same spirit towards his King." 
 
 " Yes," broke out Annora ; " that is what you are all 
 trying to force on your children, setting up an idol to fall 
 down and crush yourselves ! For shame, Walwyn, that 
 you, an Englishman, should preach such a doctrine to 
 the poor cliild ! " 
 
 " Xay, you little Frondeuse, there is right and safety 
 in making a child's tongue pay respect to dignities. He 
 must separate the office from the man, or the child." 
 
 All that could be done was that I should write a
 
 176 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 humble apology for my son. Otherwise they told me he 
 would certainly be taken from so dangerous a person, 
 and such a dread always made me submissive to the 
 bondage in which we were all held. 
 
 Was it not strange that a Queen who would with her 
 own hands minister to the sufferers in the hospital 
 should be so utterly ignorant of her duties in bringing 
 up the heir of a great kingdom ? Gaspard, who was 
 much younger, could read well, write, and knew a little 
 Latin and English, while the King and liis brother were 
 as untaught as peasants in the fields. They could 
 make the sign of the cross and say their prayers, and 
 their manners could be perfect, but that was all. They 
 had no instruction, and their education was not begun. 
 I have the less hesitation in recording this, as the King 
 has evidently regretted it, and has given first his son, 
 then his grandsons, the most admirable masters, besides 
 having taken great pains with himself. 
 
 I suppose the Spanish dislike to instruction dominated 
 the Queen, and made her slow to inflict on her sons what 
 she so much disliked, and she was of course perfectly 
 ignorant of their misbehaviour. 
 
 I am sorry to say that Gaspard soon ceased to be shocked. 
 His aunt declared that he was becoming a loyal Frenchman 
 when he showed off his Louvre manners by kicking the 
 lackeys, pinching Armantine, and utterly refusing to learn 
 his lessons for the Abbe, declaring that he was Monsieur
 
 XIV.] COURT APPOINTMENT. 177 
 
 le Marquis, and no one should interfere with him. Once 
 when he came home a day or two before me, he made 
 himself quite intolerable to the whole house, by insisting 
 on making Armantine and her little brother defend a 
 fortress on the top of the stairs, which he attacked with 
 the hard balls of silk and wool out of our work-baskets. 
 Annora tried to stop him, but only was kicked for her 
 pains. It was his hotel he said, and he was master there, 
 and so he went on, though he had given poor Armantine 
 a black eye, and broken two panes of glass, till his uncle 
 came home, and came upon him with a stern " Gaspard !" 
 The boy began again with his being the Marquis and the 
 master, but Eustace put him down at once. 
 
 " Thou mayst be Marquis, but thou art not master of 
 this house, nor of thyself. Thou art not even a gentle- 
 man while thou actest thus. Go to thy room. We will 
 see what thy mother says to this." 
 
 Gaspard durst not struggle with his uncle, and went 
 off silent and sulky ; but Eustace had subdued him into 
 penitence before I came home. And I can hardly tell 
 how, but from that time the principle of loyalty to 
 the sovereign, without imitation of the person, seemed 
 to have been instilled into the child, so that I feel, 
 and I am sure he will agree with me, that I owe my 
 son, and he owes himself, to the influence of my dear 
 brother. 
 
 Had it not been for leaving him, my services to 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 Mademoiselle would have been altogether amusing. True, 
 she was marvellously egotistical and conceited, but she 
 was very good-natured, and liked to make those about 
 her happy. Even to her stepmother and little sisters, 
 whom she did not love, she was never unkind, though 
 she lived entirely apart, and kept her own little court 
 separately at the Louvre, and very odd things we did 
 there. 
 
 Sometimes we were all dressed up as the gods and 
 goddesses, she being always Minerva — unless as Diana 
 she ^conducted us as her nymphs to the chase in the 
 park at Versailles. Sometimes we were Mademoiselle 
 Scudery's heroines, and we wrote descriptions of each 
 other by these feigned names, some of which appear in 
 her memoirs. And all the time she was hoping to marry 
 the Emperor, and despising the suit of Queen Henrietta 
 for our Prince of Wales, who, for his part, never laughed 
 so much in secret as when he attended this wonderful 
 and classical Court.
 
 XV.] A STRANGE THANKSGIVING DAY. 179 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 A STRANGE THANKSGIVING DAY. 
 
 There was a curious scene in our salon tlie day after the 
 news had come of the great victory of Lens. Clement 
 Darpent had been brought in by my brother, who wished 
 him to hear some English songs which my sister and I 
 had been practising. He had been trying to learn 
 English, and perhaps understood it better than he could 
 speak it, but he was somewhat perplexed by those two 
 gallant lines — 
 
 " I could not love thee, dear, so niucli, 
 Loved I not honour more," 
 
 Annora's eyes flashed with disappointed anger as she 
 said, "You enter not into the sentiment, Monsieur. I 
 should have hoped that if any Frenchman could, it would 
 be you ! " 
 
 " For my part," observed my mother, " I am not 
 surprised at the question not being appreciated by the 
 gens de la robe''
 
 180 • STEAY PEAELS. [CHAP. 
 
 I saw Eustace look infinitely annoyed at this insult 
 to his friend's profession, and to make it worse, Gaspard, 
 who had come home that morning from the palace, 
 exclaimed, having merely caught the word " honour " — 
 
 " Yes, the gens de la rohe hate our honour. That is 
 why the King said, when news of our great victory came, 
 * Oh, how sorry the Parliament will be ! '" 
 
 " Did he ? " exclaimed my mother. " Is it true, my 
 grandson ? " 
 
 " True ; yes indeed, Madame ma Grandm^re," replied 
 Gaspard. " And you should have seen how aU the world 
 applauded him." 
 
 " I would not have applauded him," said Eustace 
 sadly. " I would have tried to teach him that nothing 
 can be of more sad omen for a king than to regard his 
 Parliament as his enemy." 
 
 " My son," returned my mother, " if you must utter 
 such absurdities, let it not be before the child. Imagine 
 the consequence of his repeating them ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " sighed Darpent, " it would be well if only, 
 through child lips or any others, the King and his mother 
 could learn that the Parliament can heartily rejoice in all 
 that is for the true glory of France ; but that we place 
 that glory and honour in justice and in the well-being of 
 her people, and that we love above all ! " 
 
 " There," said I, glad to turn the conversation from 
 the dangerous political turn it was taking, " I knew it
 
 XV.] A STRANGE THANKSGIVING DAY. 181 
 
 was merely the language and not the sentiment of our 
 song that Monsieur Darpent did not comprehend." 
 
 And when it was translated and paraphrased, he 
 exclaimed, " Ah I truly Mademoiselle may trust me that 
 such sentiments are the breath of life to those who are 
 both French and of the robe. May one at least live to 
 prove it to her ! " 
 
 The times were threatening^ in France as well as in 
 England, for if in the latter realm the thunderbolt had 
 fallen, in the former the tempest seemed to be gathering. 
 They say that it dispersed after a few showers, but there 
 are others who say that it is only stored up to fall with 
 greater fury in later times. Ah, well ! if it be so, I pray 
 that none of mine may be living to see it, for I cannot 
 conceal from myself that there is much among us that 
 may well call down the vengeance of Heaven. Yet, if 
 our good Duke of Burgundy fulfil the promise of his 
 youth, the evil may yet be averted. 
 
 The Parliament of Paris had made an attempt to 
 check the reckless exactions of the Court by refusing to 
 register the recent edicts for taxation, and it was this 
 that made the Queen so angry with them. Eustace began 
 to explain that it had been the unfortunate endeavour 
 to raise money without the consent of Parliament that 
 had been the immediate cause of the troubles in England 
 for which they were still suffering. This implied censure 
 of King Charles so displeased my mother that she declared
 
 182 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 that she would listen to such treason no longer, started 
 up and quitted the room, calling Annora with her. Poor 
 Annora gave one of her grim looks, but was obliged to 
 obey ; I did not feel bound to do the same, as indeed 
 I stood in the position of hostess : so I remained, with 
 Gaspard leaning on my lap, while my brother and M. 
 Darpent continued their conversation, and the latter began 
 to describe the actual matter in debate, the Paulette, 
 namely, the right of magistrates to purchase the succession 
 to their offices for their sons, provided a certain annual 
 amount was paid to the Crown. The right had to be 
 continually renewed by fresh edicts for a certain term. 
 This term was now over, and the Crown refused to renew 
 it except on condition that all the salaries should be for- 
 feited for four years. To our English notions the whole 
 system was a corruption, but the horrible ill faith of the 
 Court, which ruined and cheated so many families, was 
 nevertheless shocking to us. Clement Darpent, who had 
 always looked on the Paulette as a useful guarantee, and 
 expected to succeed to his father's office as naturally as 
 Eustace had done to the baronies of "VValwyn and Eibau- 
 mont, could not then see it in the same light, and expa- 
 tiated on the speeches made by the Councillors Broussel, 
 Blancmesnil, and others, on the injustice of such a 
 measure. 
 
 Gaspard caught the name of Blancmesnil, and look- 
 ing up, he said " Blancmesnil ! It is he that the King
 
 XV.] A STRANGE THAXKSGIVIXG DAY. 183 
 
 says is a scoundrel to resist his will ; but he will soon 
 be shut up. They are going to arrest him." 
 
 " Pray how long have they taken little imps like 
 thee into their counsels ?" demanded Eustace, as we all 
 sat petrified at this announcement. 
 
 " It was the Duke of Anjou who told me/' said Gas- 
 pard. " He was sitting at the foot of the Queen's bed 
 when she settled it all with M. le Cardinal. They will 
 send to have coup de main made of all those rogues as 
 soon as the Te Deum is over to-morrow at N'otre Dame, 
 and then there will be no more refusing of money for M. 
 le Prince to beat the Spaniards with." 
 
 " The Duke should choose his confidants better," said 
 Eustace. "Look here, my nephew. Eemember from 
 henceforth that whatever passes in secret council is sacred, 
 and even if told to thee inadvertently should never be 
 repeated. Now leave us ; your mother needs you no 
 longer." 
 
 My little boy made his graceful bow at the door, 
 looking much perplexed, and departed. I rose likewise, 
 saying I would forbid him to repeat his dangerous com- 
 munication, and I trusted that it would do him no harm. 
 
 " Madame," said M. Darpent, " I will not conceal 
 from you that I shall take advantage of what I have 
 heard to warn these friends of my father." 
 
 " You cannot be expected to do otherwise," said 
 Eustace ; " and truly the design is so arbitrary and unjust
 
 184 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 that, Cavalier as I am, I cannot but rejoice that it should 
 be baffled." 
 
 " And," added Darpent, before I could speak, " Ma- 
 dame may be secure that no word shall pass my lips 
 respecting the manner in which I received the warning." 
 
 I answered that I could trust him for that. I could 
 not expect any more from him, and indeed none of us 
 were bound in honour. The fault was with the Duke of 
 Anjou, who, as we all know, was an incorrigible chatter- 
 box all his life, and never was trusted with any State 
 secrets at all ; but his mother must have supposed him 
 not old enough to understand what she was talking about, 
 when she let him overhear such a conversation. 
 
 Gaspard had, however, a private lecture from both of 
 us on the need of holding his tongue, both on this matter 
 and all other palace gossip. He was no longer in wait- 
 ing, and I trusted that all would be forgotten before his 
 turn came again ; but he was to join in the state pro- 
 cession on the following day, a Sunday, when the King 
 and Queen-Eegent were to return thanks at Notre Dame 
 for the victory at Lens. 
 
 Ah, children ! we had victories then. Our Tc Dcums 
 were not sung with doubting hearts, to make the populace 
 believe a defeat a victory — a delusion to which this 
 French nation of ours is only too prone. My country- 
 man, Marlborough, and the little truant Abbe, Eugene of 
 Savoy, were not then the leaders of the opposite armies ;
 
 XV.] A STKAXGE THANKSGIVING DAY. 185 
 
 but at the head of our own, we had M. le Prince and the 
 Yicomte de Turenne in the flower of their age, and our 
 triumphs were such that they might well intoxicate the 
 King, who was, so to speak, brought up upon them. It 
 was a magnificent sight, w^hich we all saw from different 
 quarters — my mother in the suite of the Queen of England, 
 Gaspard among the little noblemen who attended the 
 King, I among the ladies who followed Mademoiselle, 
 while my brother and sister, though they might have 
 gone among their own Queen's train, chose to shift for 
 themselves. They said they should see more than if, 
 like us, they formed part of the pageant ; but I believe 
 the real reason was, that if they had gone early to Queen 
 Henrietta's apartments in full dress, they must have missed 
 their Englisli prayers at the Ambassador's, which they 
 never chose to do on a Sunday. 
 
 The choir part of the nave was filled with tribunes 
 for the royal family and their suites ; and as the most 
 exalted in rank went the last. Mademoiselle, and we ladies 
 behind her, came to our places early enough to see a great 
 deal of the rest of the procession. The whole choir was 
 already a field of clergy and choristers, the white robes of 
 the latter giving relief to the richly-embroidered purple 
 and lace-covered robes of the Bishops, who wore their gold 
 and jewelled mitres, while their richly-gilded pastoral 
 staves and crosses were borne before them. The Coad- 
 jutor of Paris, who was to be the Celebrant, was already
 
 186 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 by the Altar, his robes absolutely encrusted with gold ; and 
 just after we had taken our places there passed up the 
 Cardinal, with his pillars borne before him, in his scarlet 
 hat and his robes. 
 
 Every lady was, according to the Spanish fashion, 
 which Queen Anne had introduced, in black or in white — 
 the demoiselles in white, the married in black — and all 
 with the black lace veil on their heads. The French 
 ladies had murmured much at this, but there is no deny- 
 ing that the general effect was much better for the long 
 lines of black above and white below, and as there was 
 no restriction upon their jewellery, emeralds, rubies, and 
 diamonds flashed wherever the light fell on them. 
 
 Beyond, a lane was preserved all down the length of 
 the nave by the tall, towering forms of the Scottish 
 archers, in their rich accoutrements, many of them gallant 
 gentlemen, who had served under the Marquess of Mon- 
 trose ; and in the aisles behind them surged the whole 
 multitude — gentlemen, ladies, bourgeois, fishwives, arti- 
 sans, all sorts of people, mixed up together, and treating 
 one another with a civility and forbearance of which my 
 brother and sister confessed an English crowd would have 
 been incapable, though they showed absolutely no rever- 
 ence to the sacred place; and I must own the ladies 
 showed as little, for every one was talking, laughing, 
 bowing to acquaintance, or pointing out notorieties, and 
 low whispers were going about of some great and secret
 
 XV.] A STRANGE THANKSGIVING DAY. 187 
 
 undertaking of the Queen -Eegent. Low, did I say! 
 Nay, I heard the words " Blancmesnil and Broussel " 
 quite loud enough to satisfy me that if the attempt had 
 been disclosed, it would not be possible to fix the blame 
 of betraying it on my little son more than on twenty 
 others. Indeed the Queen of England observed to her 
 niece, loud enough for me to hear her, that it was only 
 too like what she remembered only seven years ago in 
 England, when her dear King had gone down to arrest 
 those five rogues of members, and all had failed because 
 of that vile gossip Lady Carlisle. 
 
 "And who told my Lady Carlisle ?" demanded Ma- 
 demoiselle with some archness ; whereupon Queen Hen- 
 rietta became very curious to know whether the handsome 
 Duke of Beaufort were, after his foolish fashion, in the 
 crowd, making himself agreeable to the ladies of the 
 market-place. 
 
 Trumpets, however, sounded, and all rose from their 
 seats, as up the nave swept Queen Anne, her black man- 
 tilla descending over her fair hair from a little diamond 
 crown, her dress — white satin — with a huge long blue 
 velvet train worked with gold fleitrs-cle-lys, supported by 
 four pair of little pages in white satin. Most regal did 
 she look, leading by the hand the little Duke of Anjou ; 
 while the young King, who was now old enough to form 
 the climax of the procession, marched next after in blue 
 and gold, holding his plumed hat in his hand, and bowing
 
 188 STEAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 right and left with all his royal courtesy and grace, liis 
 beautiful fair hair on his shoulders, shining with the sun. 
 And there was my little Marquis among the boys who im- 
 mediately followed him in all his bright beauty and grace. 
 
 Most glorious was the High Mass that followed. 
 Officer after officer marched up and laid standard after 
 standard before the Altar, heavy with German blazonry, 
 or with the red and gold stripes of Aragon, the embattled 
 castles of Castille, till they amounted to seventy-three. 
 It must have been strange to the Spanish Queen to 
 rejoice over these as they lay piled in a gorgeous heap 
 before the high Altar, here and there one dim with 
 weather or stained with blood. The peals of the Te 
 Deum from a thousand voices were unspeakably magni- 
 ficent, and yet through them all it seemed to me that I 
 heard the wail not only of the multitudes of widowed 
 wives and sonless parents, but of the poor peasants of all 
 the nation, crying aloud to Heaven for the bread which 
 they were forbidden to eat, wdien they had toiled for it in 
 the sweat of their brow. Yes, and which I was not per- 
 mitted to let them enjoy ! 
 
 Ah ! which did the Almighty listen to ? To the 
 praise, or to the mourning, lamentation, and woe ? You 
 have often wondered, my children, that I absented my- 
 self from the Te Dciims of victory while we had them. 
 Now you know the reason. 
 
 And then I knew that all this display was only an
 
 XV.] A STRANGE THANKSGIVIXG DAY. 189 
 
 excuse under which the Queen hid her real design of 
 crushing all opposition to her will. She wanted to com- 
 mit an injustice, and silence all appeals against it, so 
 that the poor might be more and more ground down ! 
 How stransje in the woman whom I had seen bearincr 
 patiently, nay, joyfully, with the murmurs of the faggot- 
 seller in the hospital ! Truly she knew not what she 
 did! 
 
 As she left the Cathedral, and passed M. de Com- 
 minges, a lieutenant of her Guards, she said : " Go, and 
 Heaven be with you." 
 
 I was soon at home safely with my boys, to carry 
 an account of our doings to my dear little Madame 
 d'Aubepine, who, unable to bear the fatigue and the crush 
 of I^otre Dame, had taken her little children to a Mass 
 of thanksgiving celebrated by our good Abbe at the nearest 
 Church. 
 
 "\Ye waited long and long for the others to come. I 
 was not uneasy for my mother, who was with the Queen; 
 but the servants brought reports that the canaille had 
 risen, and that the streets were in wild confusion. We 
 could see nothing, and only heard wild shouts from time 
 to time. What could have become of Eustace and 
 Annora ? My mother would have been afraid that with 
 their wild English notions they had rushed into some- 
 thing most unsuitable to a Erench demoiselle, and I was 
 afraid for Eustace, if they were involved in any crowd
 
 190 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 or confusion, for his strength was far from being equal 
 to his spirit. We watched, sure that we heard cries and 
 shouts in the distance, the roar of the populace, such as 
 I remembered on that wedding day, but sharper and 
 shriller, as French voices are in a different key from the 
 English roar and growl. 
 
 It passed, however, and there was long silence. 
 Gaspard and Armantine stood at the window, and at 
 last, as evening twilight fell, cried out that a carriage 
 was coming in at the jporte cocMre. Presently Annora 
 ran into the room, all in a glow, and Eustace followed 
 more slowly. 
 
 " Have you been frightened ? " she cried. " Oh, we 
 have had such an adventure ! If they had not screamed 
 and shrieked like peacocks, or furies, I could have thought 
 myself in England." 
 
 " Alack ! that a tumult should seem like home to 
 you, sister," said Eustace gravely. 
 
 Then they told how at the ambassador's chapel they 
 had heard that good Lady Fanshawe, whom they had 
 known in England, had arrived sick and sad, after the 
 loss of a young child. They determined, therefore, to 
 steal away from Notre Dame before the ceremony was 
 over, and go to see whether anything could be done for 
 her. They could not, however, get out so quickly as 
 they expected, and they were in the Eue des Marmousets 
 when they saw surging towards them a tremendous
 
 XV.] A STRANGE THANKSGIVING DAY. 191 
 
 crowd, shouting, screeching, shrieking, roaring, trying to 
 stop a carriage which was being urged on with six 
 horses, with the royal guards trying to force their way. 
 Eustace, afraid of his sister being swept from him, looked 
 for some escape, but the mob w^ent faster than they could 
 do; and they might soon have been involved in it and 
 trampled down. There seemed no opening in the tall 
 houses, when suddenly a little door opened close to them, 
 and there was a cry of surprise ; a hand was put out. 
 
 " You here ! Nay, pardon me, Mademoiselle ; take 
 my arm." 
 
 Clement Darpent was there. A few steps more, and 
 taking out a small key, he fitted it into the same little 
 door, and led them into a dark passage, then up a stair, 
 into a large room, simply furnished, and one end almost 
 like an oratory. Here, looking anxiously from the win- 
 dow, was an old lady in a plain black dress and black 
 silk hood, with a white apron and keys at her girdle. 
 
 " My mother," said Clement, " this gentleman and 
 lady, M. le Baron de Eibaumont and Mademoiselle sa 
 sceur, have become involved in this crowd. They will do 
 us the favour of taking shelter here till the uproar is over." 
 
 Madame Darpent welcomed them kindly, but with 
 anxious inquiries. Her son only threw her a word in 
 answer, prayed to be excused, and dashed off again. 
 
 " Ah I there he is. May he be saved, the good old 
 man," cried Madame Darpent.
 
 192 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 And they could see a carriage with four horses con- 
 taining the Lieutenant Comminges holding a white-haired 
 old man, in a very shabby dressing-gown ; while soldiers, 
 men, women, boys, all struggled, fought, and shrieked 
 round it, like the furies let loose. The carriage passed 
 on, but the noise and struggle continued, and Madame 
 Darpent was soon intensely anxious about her son. 
 
 It seemed that Clement had carried his warnings, 
 and that four or five of the councillors had taken care 
 to be beyond the walls of Paris ; among them his own 
 father, the Councillor Darpent, who was a prudent man, 
 and thought it best to be on the right side. The Presi- 
 dent Blancmesnil was, however, absent each time Clement 
 had called to see him, and he durst not entrust his 
 message to any third person, nor write, as it now appeared 
 definitely enough to be understood. And the President 
 Broussel, a good-humoured, simple, hearty old man, was 
 not quite well, and though he thanked his young friend, 
 he would not believe any such harm was intended 
 against him as to make him derange his course of 
 medicine. 
 
 Thus, when Comminges marched into the house to 
 arrest him, he was sitting at dinner, eating his houillon, 
 in dressing-gown and slippers. His daughter cried out 
 that he was not fit to leave the house. At the same 
 time, an old maid-servant put her head out at a window, 
 screaming that her master was going to be carried off.
 
 XV.] A STRANGE THANKSGIVING DAY. 193 
 
 He was much beloved, and a host of people ran 
 together, trying to break the carriage and cut the traces. 
 Comminges, seeing that no time was to be lost, forced 
 the poor old lawyer down to the carriage just as he was, 
 in his dressing-gown and slippers, and drove off. But 
 the mob thickened every moment, in spite of the guards, 
 and a very few yards beyond where they had taken refuge 
 at Madame Darpent's, a large wooden bench had been 
 thrown across the street, and the uproar redoubled round 
 it — the yells, shrieks, and cries ringing all down the 
 road. However, the carriage passed that, and dashed on, 
 throwing down and crushing people right and left ; so 
 that Madame Darpent was first in terror for her son, and 
 then would fain have rushed out to help the limping, 
 crying sufferers. 
 
 They heard another horrible outcry, but could see no 
 more, except the fluctuating heads of the throng below 
 them, and loud yells, howls, and maledictions came to 
 their ears. By and by, however, Clement returned, 
 having lost his hat in the crowd ; with blood on his 
 collar, and with one of his lace cuffs torn, though he said 
 he was not hurt. 
 
 " They have him ! " he said bitterly ; " the tyranny 
 has succeeded ! " 
 
 " Oh, hush, my son ! Take care ! " cried his mother. 
 
 " M. le Baron and I understand one another, Madame," 
 he said, smiling. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP, 
 
 He went on to tell that the carriage had been over- 
 turned on the Quai des Orfevres, just opposite the hotel 
 of the First President. Comminges syjrang out, sword in 
 hand, drove back the crowd, who would have helped out 
 Broussel, and shouted for the soldiers, some of whom 
 kept back those who would have succoured the prisoner 
 with their drawn swords. Clement himself had been 
 slightly touched, but was forced back in the scuffle ; 
 while tlie good old man called out to him not to let any 
 one be hurt on his behalf. 
 
 Other soldiers were meantime seizing a passing car- 
 riage, and taking out a poor lady who occupied it. Before 
 it could be brought near, the raging crowd had brought 
 axes and hacked it to pieces. Comminges and his 
 soldiers, well armed, still dragged their victim along till 
 a troop of the Queen's guards came up with another 
 carriage, in which the poor old President was finally 
 carried off. 
 
 "And this is what we have to submit to from a 
 Spaniard and an Italian ! " cried Clement Darpent. 
 
 He had come back to reassure his mother and his 
 guests, but the tumult was raging higher than ever. The 
 crowd had surrounded the Tuileries, filling the air with 
 shouts of " Broussel ! Broussel ! " and threatening to tear 
 down the doors and break in, overwhelming the guards. 
 Eustace and his host went out again, and presently 
 reported that the Marshal de Meilleraye had been half
 
 XV.] A STRANGE THANKSGIVING DAY. 195 
 
 killed, but had been rescued by the Coadjutor, who was 
 giving the people all manner of promises. This was 
 verified by shouts of " Vive le Eoi ! " And by and by 
 the crowd came past once more, surrounding the carriage, 
 on the top of which was seated the Coadjutor, in his 
 violet robes, but with his skull cap away, and his cheek 
 bleeding from the blow of a stone. He was haranguing, 
 gesticulating, blessing, doing all in his power to pacify 
 the crowd, and with the hope of the release of the coun- 
 cillors all was quieting down ; and Clement, after recon- 
 noitring, thought it safe to order the carriage to take 
 home his guests. 
 
 " No one can describe," said my sister, " how good and 
 sweet Madame was, though she looked so like a Puritan 
 dame. Her face was so wonderfully calm and noble, 
 like some grand old saint in a picture ; and it lighted up 
 so whenever her son came near her, I wanted to ask her 
 blessing ! And I think she gave it inwardly. She 
 curtsied, and would have kissed my hand, as being only 
 bourgeois, while I was noble ; but I told her I would 
 have no such folly, and I made her give me a good 
 motherly embrace ! " 
 
 "I hope she gave you something to eat," I said, 
 laughinc]^. 
 
 " Oh yes ; we had an excellent meal. She made us 
 eat before sending us home, soup, and ragout, and 
 chocolate — excellent chocolate. She had it brought as
 
 196 STRAY PEAELS. [CHAP. 
 
 soon as possible, because Eustace looked so pale and 
 tired. Oh, Meg ! she is the very best creature I have 
 seen in Trance. Your Eambouillets are nothing to her ! 
 I hope I may see her often again ! " 
 
 And while Eustace marvelled if this were a passing 
 tumult or the beginning of a civil war, my most imme- 
 diate wonder was what my mother would say to this 
 adventure.
 
 XVI.] THE BARRICADES. 197 
 
 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 THE BARRICADES. 
 
 My mother did not come home till the evening, when 
 the streets had become tolerably quiet. She had a 
 strange account to give, for she had been at the palace all 
 the time in attendance on Queen Henrietta, who tried in 
 vain to impress her sister-in-law with a sense that the 
 matter was serious. Queen Anne of Austria was too 
 proud to believe that a parliament and a mob could do 
 any damage to the throne of France, whatever they 
 might effect in England. 
 
 There she sat in her grand cabinet, and with her 
 were the Cardinal, the Duke of Longueville, and many 
 other gentlemen, especially Messieurs de Nogent and de 
 Beautru, who were the wits, if not the buffoons of the 
 Court, and who turned all the reports they heard into 
 ridicule. The Queen-Eegent smiled in her haughty way, 
 but the Queen of England laid her hand sadly on my 
 mother's arm and said, " Alas, my dear friend, was it not 
 thus that once we laughed ? "
 
 198 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 Presently in came Marshal de la Meilleraye and the 
 Coadjutor, and their faces and gestures showed plainly that 
 they were seriously alarmed; but M. de Beautru, nothing 
 daunted, turned to the Eegent, saying, " How ill Her 
 Majesty must be, since M. le Coadjutcur is come to bring 
 her extreme unction," whereupon there was another great 
 burst of applause and laughter. 
 
 The Coadjutor pretended not to hear, and addressing 
 the Queen told her that he had come to offer his services 
 to her at a moment of pressing danger. Anne of Austria 
 only vouchsafed a little nod with her head, by way at 
 once of thanks, and showing how ofificious and super- 
 fluous she thought him, while Nogent and Beautru con- 
 tinued to mimic the dismay of poor Broussel, seized in 
 his dressing-gown and slippers, and the shrieks of his old 
 housekeeper from the window. 
 
 " Did no one silence them for being so unmanly ? " 
 cried Annora, as she heard this. 
 
 " Child, thou art foolish ! " said my mother with 
 dignity. " Why should the resistance of canaille like 
 that be observed at all, save to make sport ? " 
 
 For my poor mother, since she had been dipped again 
 into the Court atmosphere, had learned to look on whatever 
 was not noble, as not of the same nature with herself. 
 However, she said that Marshal de la Meilleraye, a 
 thorough soldier, broke in by assuring the Queen that the 
 populace were in arms, howling for Broussel, and the
 
 XVI.] THE BARRICADES. 199 
 
 Coadjutor began to describe the fierce tumult through 
 which he had made his way, but the Cardinal only gave 
 his dainty provoking Italian smile, and the Queen-Eegent 
 proudly affirmed that there neither was nor could be a 
 revolt. 
 
 " We know," added Mazarin, in his blandest tone of 
 irony, " that M. le Coadjuteur is so devoted to the Court, 
 and so solicitous for his flock, that a little over-anxiety 
 must be pardoned to him ! " 
 
 This was while shouts of " Broussel ! Broussel ! " were 
 echoing through the palace, and in a few moments came 
 the Lieutenant-Colonel of the Guards to say that the 
 populace were threatening to overpower the soldiers at 
 the gates; and next came the Chancellor, nearly frightened 
 out of his wits, saying that he had seen the people 
 howling like a pack of wolves, carrying all sorts of strange 
 weapons, and ready to force their way in. Then old 
 Monsieur Guitauet, the Colonel of the Guards, declared 
 " that the old rogue Broussel must be surrendered, dead 
 or alive." 
 
 " The former step would not be accordant with the 
 Queen's piety nor her justice," broke in the Coadjutor ; 
 " the second might stop the tumult." 
 
 " I understand you, Monsieur le Coadjuteur^' broke 
 out the Queen. " You want me to set Broussel at liberty. 
 I would rather strangle him with my own hands, and 
 those who "
 
 200 STEAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 And she held those plump white hands of hers almost 
 close to the Archbishop's face, as if she were ready to do 
 it, but Cardinal Mazarin whispered something in her ear 
 which made her less violent, and the next moment the 
 lieutenant of police came in, with such a terrific account 
 of the fury of the mob and their numbers, that there was 
 no more incredulity ; it was plain that there was really 
 a most frightful uproar, and both the Eegent and the 
 Cardinal entreated the Coadjutor to go down and pacify 
 the people by promises. He tried to obtain from the 
 Queen some written promise. 
 
 " He was right," said Eustace. 
 
 " Eight ! " cried my mother. " What ! to seek to bind 
 Her Majesty down by written words, like a base mechanical 
 bourgeois ? I am ashamed of you, my son ! No, indeed, 
 we all cried out upon him. Archbishop though he were, 
 and told him that Her Majesty's word was worth ten 
 thousand bonds." 
 
 " May it be so proved 1 '* muttered Eustace, while my 
 mother went on to describe how the Coadjutor was 
 pressed, pushed, and almost dragged down the great stair- 
 case to speak to the infuriated people who were yelling 
 and shrieking outside the court. Monsieur de Meilleraye 
 went before him, backed by all the light horse drawn up 
 in the court, and mounting his horse, drew his sword 
 crying, " Vive le Roi ! Liberty for Broussel ! " He was 
 met by a cry of " To arms, to arms ! " and there was a
 
 XVI.] THE BARRICADES. 201 
 
 rush against him, some trying to pull him off his horse, 
 and one attacking him with a rusty old sword. The 
 Marshal fired at him and he fell, severely wounded, just 
 as the Coadjutor came down, and seeing him lying in the 
 gutter like one dead, knelt down by him, heard his con- 
 fession, and absolved him. 
 
 (It was afterwards said that the man was a pick- 
 lock, but we always suspected that the Coadjutor had 
 made the worst of him by way of enhancing a good 
 story.) 
 
 Just as the absolution was finished, some more of the 
 mob came up, and one threw a stone which hit the Arch- 
 bishop on the cheek, and another pointed a musket at 
 him, " Unhappy man," he cried, " if your father saw 
 you ! " This seemed to touch the man ; he cried : " Vive 
 le Coadjuteur ! " And so easily were the people swayed, 
 that they all began to applaud him to the skies, and he 
 led them off to the market-place, 
 
 " We thought ourselves rid of them," said my mother, 
 " we began to breathe again, and I was coming home, 
 but, bah ! no such thing ! They are all coming back, 
 thirty or forty thousand of them, only without their 
 weapons. At least the gentlemen said so, but I am sure 
 they had them hidden. Up comes M. le Coadjuteur 
 again, the Marshal de Meilleraye leading him by the 
 hand up to the Queen, and saying : ' Here, Madame, is 
 one to whom I owe my life, but to whom your Majesty
 
 202 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 owes tlie safety of the State, nay, perhaps of the 
 palace/ " 
 
 The Queen smiled, seeing through it all, said my 
 mother, and the Coadjutor broke in : " The matter is 
 not myself, Madame, it is Paris, now disarmed and sub- 
 missive, at your Majesty's feet." 
 
 " It is very guilty, and far from submissive," said the 
 Queen angrily ; " pray, if it were so furious, how can it 
 have been so rapidly tamed ? " And then M. de Meille- 
 raye must needs break in furiously : " Madame, an honest 
 man cannot dissemble the state of things. If Broussel 
 is not set at liberty, to-morrow there will not be one 
 stone upon another at Paris." 
 
 But the Queen was firm, and put them both down, 
 only saying : " Go and rest. Monsieur, you have worked 
 hard." 
 
 " Was that all the thanks he had ? " exclaimed An- 
 nora. 
 
 " Of course it was, child. The Queen and the Cardinal 
 knew very well that the tumult was his work ; or at 
 least immensely exaggerated by him, jiist to terrify her 
 into releasing that factious old mischief-maker ! Why, he 
 went oft' I know not where, haranguing them from the top 
 of his carriage ! " 
 
 " Ah ! that w^as where we saw him," said Nan. 
 '' Madame, indeed there was nothincy exaiTojerated in the 
 tumult. It was frightful. They made ten times the
 
 XVI.] THE BARRICADES. 203 
 
 noise our honest folk do in England, and did ten times 
 less. If they had been English, M. Broussel would be 
 safe at home now ! " 
 
 " No, the tumult was not over-painted, that I can 
 testify," said my brother. 
 
 But when my mother came to hear how he and 
 Annora had witnessed the scene from the windows of M. 
 Darpent's house, her indignation knew no bounds. I 
 never saw her so angry with Eustace as she now was, 
 that he should have taken his sister into the house of one 
 of these councillors ; a hourgeois house was bad enough, 
 but that it should have been actually one of the dis- 
 affected, and that the Darpent carriage should have been 
 seen at our door, filled her with horror. It was enough 
 to ruin us all for ever with the Court. 
 
 " What have we to do with the Court ? " cried my 
 sister, and this, of course, only added fuel to the flame, 
 till at last my mother came to declaring that she should 
 never trust her daughter with my brother again, for he 
 was not fit to take care of her. 
 
 But we were all surprised by Eustace, when he bade 
 my mother good-night, quietly bending his dark curled 
 head, and saying : " My mother, I ask your pardon, I am 
 sorry I offended you." 
 
 "My son, my dear son!" she cried, embracing him. 
 " Never think of it more, only if we never go home, I 
 cannot have your sister made a mere hourgcoise."
 
 204 STKAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 " How could you, brother ! " cried Annora, waiting 
 outside the door. " Now you have owne(} yourself in the 
 wrong ! " 
 
 " I have not said so, Nan," he answered. " I have 
 simply said I was sorry to have offended my mother, and 
 that is true ; I could not sleep under her displeasure." 
 
 "But you do not care about ruining yourself with 
 this perfidious foreign Court." 
 
 " Not a rush, so long as I do not bring Meg and her 
 son into danger." 
 
 Things were quiet that night, but every one knew 
 that it was only a lull in the storm. 
 
 I set off to morning mass with my son and little 
 Armantine as usual, thinking all would be quiet so early 
 in our part of the city, but before the service was over 
 there was the dull roar of the populace in a fury to be 
 heard in the distance, and Mcole met me at the church 
 door entreating me to get home as quickly as possible. 
 
 To my dismay there was a large heavy chain across 
 the end of the street, not such as to stop foot passengers, 
 but barring the way against carriages, and the street was 
 fast filling with shopkeepers, apprentices, market-women, 
 and all sorts of people. The children clung to my hands, 
 half frightened and half eager. Suddenly we saw a 
 carriage stopped by the chain, and the people crowding 
 round it. Out of it sprang two gentlemen and a lady, 
 and began hurrying forward like people hunted. I drew
 
 XVI.] THE BARRICADES. 205 
 
 the children back into the church porch, and was shocked 
 to see that those who were then fleeing in haste and 
 terror were the Chancellor, M. Seguier, with his brother, 
 the Bishop of Meaux, and his daughter the beautiful 
 young Duchess de Sully. I tried to attract their atten- 
 tion and draw them into the church as a place of safety, 
 but they were in too much haste and terror to perceive 
 me, and a man began shouting after them : 
 
 " To arms, friends, to arms ! There's the enemy. Kill 
 him ! and we shall have vengeance for all we suffer ! " 
 
 The mob rushed after, shouting horribly. Armantine 
 began to cry, and I took her in my arms, while Nicole 
 held my son. 
 
 The whole crowd rushed past us, never heeding us, 
 as we stood above them, and as we were only thirty 
 yards from home I hoped soon to reach it, though I 
 hesitated, as the screeches, yells, and howls were still to 
 be heard lower down the street, and fresh parties of men, 
 women, and children kept rushing down to join the 
 throng. If it should surge back again before we could 
 get home, what would become of us ? 
 
 Suddenly Gaspard cried out : " My uncle ! " And 
 there was indeed my brother. " Good heavens ! " he 
 cried, " you there, sister ! They told me you were gone 
 to church, but I could hardly believe it ! Come home 
 before the mob comes back." 
 
 I asked anxiously for the Chancellor, and heard he
 
 206 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 had escaped into the Hotel de Liiynes, which was three 
 doors beyond ours. He had set out ^t six in the morn- 
 ing for the palace, it was believed to take orders for 
 breaking up the Parliament. His daughter, thinking 
 there might be danger, chose to go with him, and so did 
 his brother the Bishop ; but the instant he was known to 
 be entangled in the streets, the mob rose on him, the 
 chains were put up, he had to leave his carriage and 
 flee on foot to the Hotel de Luynes, w^here his brother- 
 in-law lived. There the door was open, but no one was 
 up but an old servant, and, in the utmost terror, the 
 unhappy Chancellor rushed into a little wainscoted 
 closet, where he shut himself up, confessing his sins to 
 the Bishop, believing his last moments were come. In 
 fact, the mob did search all over the hotel, some meaning 
 to make him a hostage for Broussel, and others shouting 
 that they would cut him to pieces to show what fate 
 awaited the instruments of tyranny. They did actually 
 beat against the wainscot of his secret chamber, but hearing 
 nothing, they left the spot, but continued to keep guard 
 round the house, shouting out execrations against him. 
 
 Meantime Eustace had brought us safely home, 
 where the first thing we did was to hurry up to the 
 balcony, where Annora was already watching anxiously. 
 
 Presently, Marshal de Meilleraye and his light horse 
 came galloping and clattering down the street, while the 
 mob fled headlong, hither and thither, before them. A
 
 XVI.] THE BARRICADES. 207 
 
 carriage was brought out, and the Chancellor with his 
 brother and daughter was put into it, but as they were 
 driving off the mob rallied again and began to pursue 
 them. A shot was fired, and a poor woman, under a 
 heavy basket, fell. There was another outburst of curses, 
 screams, howls, yells, shots ; and carriage, guards, people, 
 all rushed past us, the coach going at the full speed of 
 its six horses, amid a shower of stones, and even bullets, 
 the guards galloping after, sometimes firing or cutting 
 with their swords, the people keeping up with them at a 
 headlong pace, pelting them with stones and dirt, and 
 often firing at them, for, indeed, the poor young Duchess 
 received a wound before they could reach the palace. 
 Meanwhile others of the mob began ransacking the 
 Hotel de Luynes in their rage at the Chancellor's escape, 
 and they made dreadful havoc of the furniture, although 
 they did not pillage it. 
 
 ]\Iy mother wept bitterly, declaring that the evil days 
 she had seen in England were pursuing her to France ; 
 and we could not persuade her that we were in no danger, 
 until the populace, having done their worst at the Hotel 
 de Luynes, drifted away from our street. Eustace could 
 not of course bear to stay shut up and knowing notliing, 
 and he and the Abbe both went out different ways, leaving 
 us to devour our anxiety as best we could, knowing nothing 
 but that there was a chain across each end of our street, 
 with a double row of stakes on either side, banked up
 
 208 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 with earth, stones, straw, all sorts of things, and guarded 
 by men with all manner of queer old weapons that had 
 come down from the wars of the League. Eustace even 
 came upon one of the old-fashioned arquebuses standing 
 on three legs to be fired ; and, what was worse, there was 
 a gorget with the portrait of the murderer of Henri III. 
 enamelled on it, and the inscription " S. Jacques Clement," 
 but the Coadjutor had the horrible thing broken up 
 publicly. My brother said things did indeed remind 
 him of the rusty old weapons that were taken down at 
 the beginning of the Eebellion. He had been to M. Dar- 
 pent's, and found him exceedingly busy, and had learned 
 from him that the Coadjutor was at the bottom of all this 
 day's disturbance. Yes, Archbishop de Gondi himself. 
 He had been bitterly offended at the mocking, mistrustful 
 way in which his services had been treated, and besides, 
 reports came to him that the Cardinal talked of sending 
 him to Quimper Corentin, and Broussel to Havre, and 
 the Chancellor to dismiss the Parliament ! He had taken 
 counsel with his friends, and determined to put himself 
 at the head of the popular movement and be revenged 
 upon the Court, and one of his familiar associates, M. 
 d'Argenteuil, had disguised himself as a mason, and led 
 the attack with a rule in his hand, while a lady, ^ladame 
 Martineau, had beaten the drum and collected tlie throng 
 to guard the gates and attack the Chancellor. There 
 were, it was computed, no less than 1260 barricades all
 
 XVI.] THE BARRICADES, 209 
 
 over Paris, and the Parliament was perfectly amazed at 
 the excitement produced by the capture of Broussel. 
 Finding that they had such supporters, the Parliament 
 was more than ever determined to make a stand for its 
 rights — whatever they might be. 
 
 The Queen had sent to command the Coadjutor to 
 appease the sedition, but he had answered that he had 
 made himself so odious by liis exertions of the previous 
 day that he could not undertake what was desired of him. 
 
 The next thing we heard was that the First President, 
 Mathieu Mole, one of the very best men then li^dng, had 
 gone at the head of sixty-Six Counsellors of Parliament, 
 two and two, to seek an audience of the Queen, They 
 were followed by a huge multitude, who supposed Broussel 
 to be still at the Palais Eoyal. 
 
 The Counsellors were admitted, but the Queen was as 
 obdurate as ever. She told them that they, their wives 
 and children, should answer for this day's work, and that 
 a hundred thousand armed men should not force her to 
 give up her will. Then she got up from her chair, went 
 out of the room, and slammed the door ! It is even said 
 that she talked of hanging a few of the Counsellors from 
 the windows to intimidate the mob; but Mademoiselle 
 assured me that this was not true ; though M, de Meil- 
 leraye actually proposed cutting off Broussel's head and 
 throwing it out into the street. 
 
 The Counsellors were kept waiting two hours in the 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 Great Gallery, while the mdh roared outside, and the 
 Cardinal, the Dukes of Orleans and Longueville, and 
 other great nobles, argued the matter with the Queen. 
 The Cardinal was, it seems, in a terrible fright. The 
 Queen, full of Spanish pride and high courage, would 
 really have rather perished than yielded to the populace ; 
 but Mazarin was more and more terrified, and at last she 
 yielded, and consented to his going to the Counsellors to 
 promise the release of the prisoners. He was trembling 
 all over, and made quite an absurd appearance, and pre- 
 sently the Parliament men appeared again, carrying huge 
 sealed letters ; Broussel's was borne by his nephew in 
 triumph. We could hear the Vivats ! with which the 
 people greeted them, as the promise of restoration was 
 made known. At eleven at night there was a fresh out- 
 cry, but this was of joy, for M. Blancmesnil had actually 
 come back from Vincennes ; but the barricades were not 
 taken down. There was to be no lajdng down of arms 
 till Broussel appeared, and there were strange noises all 
 night, preventing sleep. 
 
 At eight o'clock the next morning Broussel had not 
 appeared ; the people were walking about in a sullen 
 rage, and this was made worse by a report that there 
 were 10,000 soldiers in the Bois de Boulogne ready to 
 chastise the people. We could see from our house-top 
 the glancing of arms at every barricade where the sun 
 could penetrate, and in the midst came one of the servants 
 announcing Monsieur Clement Darpent.
 
 XVI.] THE BARRICADES. 211 
 
 He had a sword by his side, and pistols at his belt, 
 and he said that he was come to assure the ladies that 
 there would be no danger for them. If any one tried to 
 meddle with the house, we might say we were friends of 
 M. Darpent, and we should be secure. If the account 
 of the soldiers outside were true, the people were deter- 
 mined not to yield to such perfidy ; but he did not greatly 
 credit it, only it was well to be prepared. 
 
 " Alas I my friend," said Eustace, " this has all too 
 much the air of rebellion." 
 
 " We stand on our rights and privileges," said Dar- 
 pent. " We uphold them in the King's name against 
 the treachery of a Spanish woman and an Italian priest." 
 
 " You have been sorely tried," said Eustace ; " but I 
 doubt me whether anything justifies taking arms against 
 the Crown." 
 
 " Ah ! I am talking to a Cavalier," said Clement. 
 " But I must not argue the point. I must to my 
 barricade." 
 
 Nan here came forward, and desired him to carry her 
 commendations and thanks to Madame sa mere, and he 
 bowed, evidently much gratified. She durst not go the 
 length of offering her good wishes, and she told me I 
 ought to have been thankful to her for the forbearance, 
 when, under a strong sense of duty, I reproved her. 
 Technically he was only Maitre Darpent, and his mother 
 only would have been called Mademoiselle. Monsieur
 
 212 STEAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 and Madame were much more jealously limited to nobility 
 than they are now becoming, and the Darpents would not 
 purchase a patent of nobility to shelter themselves from 
 taxation. For, as Eustace said, the bourgeoisie had its 
 own chivalry of ideas. 
 
 There was no more fighting. By ten o'clock Broussel 
 was in the city, the chains were torn down, the barricades 
 levelled, and he made a triumphal progress. He was 
 taken first to Notre Dame, and as he left the carriage his 
 old dressing-gown was almost torn to pieces, every one 
 crowding to kiss it, or his feet, calling him their father 
 and protector, and anxiously inquiring for his health. A 
 Te Dsicm was sung — if not so splendid, much more full 
 of the ring of joy than the grand one two days before ! 
 Engravings of his portrait were sold about the streets, 
 bearing the inscription " Pierre Broussel, father of his 
 country;" and the good-natured old man seemed quite 
 bewildered at the honours that had befallen liim. 
 
 There were a few more alarms that night and the 
 next day, but at last they subsided, the barricades were 
 taken down, and things returned to their usual state, at 
 least to all outward appearance.
 
 XVII.] A PATIENT GKISEL. 213 
 
 CHAPTEK XVII. 
 
 A PATIENT GRISEL. 
 
 Matters seemed to be ofettins worse all round us botl 
 
 o 
 
 in France and England. King Charles was in the hands 
 of his enemies, and all the good news that we could hear 
 from England was that the Duke of York had escaped in 
 a girl's dress, and was on board the fleet at Helvoetsluys, 
 where his brother the Prince of Wales joined him. 
 
 And my own dear brother, Lord Walwyn, declared that 
 he could no longer remain inactive at Paris, so far from 
 intelligence, but that he must be with the Princes, 
 ready to assist in case anything should be attempted on 
 the King's behalf. We much dreaded the effect of the 
 Dutch climate on his health. And while tumultuous 
 assemblies were constantly taking place in Parliament, 
 and no one could guess what was coming next, we did 
 not like parting with our protector ; but he said that he was 
 an alien, and could do nothing for us. The army was on 
 its way home, and with it our brother de Solivet, and M. 
 d'Aubepine ; and his clear duty was to be ready to engage
 
 214 8TRAY PEARLS. [CHAr. 
 
 in the cause of his own King. We were in no danger at 
 Paris, our sex was sufficient protection, and if we were 
 really alarmed, there could be no reason against our 
 Heeing to Nid de Merle. Nay, perhaps, if the Court 
 were made to take home the lesson, we might be allowed 
 to reside there, and be unmolested in making improve- 
 ments. He had another motive, which he only whispered 
 to me. 
 
 " I cannot, and will not, give up my friend Darpent ; 
 and it is not fitting to live in continual resistance to my 
 mother. It does much harm to Annora, who is by no 
 means inclined to submit, and if I am gone there can be 
 no further question of intercourse." 
 
 I thought this was hard upon us all. Had we not 
 met M. Darpent at the Hotel Eambouillet, and was he 
 not a fit companion for us ? 
 
 " Most assuredly," said Eustace ; " but certain senti- 
 ments may arise from companionship which in her case 
 were better avoided." 
 
 As you may imagine, my grandchildren, I cried out 
 in horror at the idea that if M. Darpent were capable of 
 such presumption, my sister, a descendant of the Eibau- 
 monts, could stoop for a moment to favour a mere 
 bourgeois; but Eustace, Englishman as he was, laughed 
 at my indignation, and said Annora was more of the 
 Eibmont than the de Eibaumont, and that he would not be 
 accessory either to the breaking of hearts or to letting her
 
 xvil] a patient grisel. 215 
 
 become rebellious, and so that lie should put temptation 
 out of her way. I knew far too well what was becoming 
 to allow myself to suppose for a moment that Eustace 
 thought an incHnation between the two already could 
 exist. I forgot how things had been broken up in Eng- 
 land. 
 
 As to Annora, she thought Eustace's right place was 
 with the Princes, and she would not stretch out a finger 
 to hold him back, only she longed earnestly that he would 
 take us with him. Could he not persuade our mother 
 that France was becoming dangerous, and that she would 
 be safe in Holland ? But of course he only laughed at 
 that; and we all saw that unless the Queen of England 
 chose to follow her sons, there was no chance of my 
 mother leaving the Court. 
 
 " ^sTo, my sister," said Eustace tenderly, " there is 
 nothing for you to do but to endure patiently. It is very 
 hard for you to be both firm and resolute, and at the 
 same time dutiful; but it is a noble part in its very 
 difficulty, and my Nan will seek strength for it." 
 
 Then the girl pressed up to him, and told him that 
 one thing he must promise her, namely, that he w^ould 
 prevent my mother from disposing of her hand without 
 his consent. 
 
 " As long as you are here I am safe," said she ; " but 
 when you are gone I do not know what she may attempt. 
 And here is this Solivet son of hers coming too ! "
 
 216 STRAY PEAELS. [CHAP. 
 
 " Soli vet has no power over you," said Eustace. 
 " You may make yourself easy, Nan. Nobody can marry 
 you without my consent, for my father made me your 
 guardian. And I doubt me if your portion, so long as I 
 am living, be such as to tempt any man to wed such a 
 little fury, even were we at home." 
 
 " Thanks for the hint, brother," said Annora. " I 
 will take care that any such suitor shall think me a 
 fury." 
 
 " Nay, child, in moderation ! Violence is not strength. 
 Nay, rather it exhausts the forces. Eesolution and su]> 
 mission are our watchwords." 
 
 How noble he looked as he said it, and how sad it 
 was to part with him ! My mother wept most bitterly, 
 and said it was cruel to leave us to our fate, and that he 
 would kill himself in the Dutch marshes ; but when the 
 actual pain of parting with him was over, I am not sure 
 that she had not more hope of carrying out her wishes. She 
 would have begun by forbidding Annora to go, attended 
 only by the servants, to prayers at the English ambas- 
 sador's : but Eustace had foreseen this, and made arrange- 
 ments with a good old knight and his lady. Sir Francis 
 Ommaney, always to call for my sister on their way to 
 church, and she was always ready for them. My mother 
 used to say that her devotion was all perverseness, and 
 now and then, when more than usually provoked wdth 
 her, would declare that it was quite plain that her poor
 
 XVII.] A PATIENT GRISEL. 217 
 
 child's religion was only a heresy, since it did not make 
 lier a better daughter. 
 
 That used to sting Annora beyond all measure. 
 Sometimes she would reply by pouring out a catalogue of all 
 the worst offences of our own Church, and Heaven knows 
 she could find enough of them ! Or at others she would 
 appeal to the lives of all the best people she had ever heard 
 of in England, and especially of Eustace, declaring that she 
 knew she lierseK was far from good, but that was not the 
 fault of her religion, but of herself; and she would 
 really strive to be submissive and obliging for many days 
 afterwards. 
 
 Meantime the Prince of Conde had returned, and had 
 met the Court at Paiel. M. d'Aubepine and M. de Solivet 
 both were coming with him, and my poor little Cecile 
 wrote letter after letter to her husband, quite correct in 
 grammar and orthography, asking whether she should 
 have the Hotel d'Aubepine prepared, and hire servants to 
 receive him ; but she never received a line in reply. She 
 was very anxious to know whether the concierge had re- 
 ceived any orders, and yet she could not bear to betray 
 her ignorance. 
 
 I had been startled by passing in the street a face 
 which I was almost sure belonged to poor Cecile's former 
 enemy. Mademoiselle Gringrimeau, now the wife of 
 Croquelebois, the inteiulant of the estate ; and setting old 
 Mcole to work, I ascertained that this same agent and
 
 218 STKAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 his wife were actually at the Hotel d'Aub^pine, having 
 come to meet their master, but that no apartments were 
 made ready for him, as it was understood that being on 
 the staff' he would be lodged in the Hotel de Conde. 
 
 " His duty ! " said Cecile ; " he must fulfil his duty, 
 but at least I shall see him." 
 
 But to hear of the intendant and his wife made me 
 very uneasy. 
 
 The happier wives were going out in their carriages 
 to meet their husbands on the road, but Cecile did not 
 even know when he was coming, nor by what road. 
 
 " So much the better," said our English Nan. " If I 
 had a husband, I would never make him look foolish in 
 the middle of the road with a woman and a pack of 
 children hanging on him ! " 
 
 \N"q one save myself understood her English bashful- 
 ness, shrinking from all display of sentiment, and I — ah ! 
 I had known such blissful meetings, when my Philippe 
 had been full of joy to see me come out to meet him. 
 Ah 1 will he meet me thus at the gates of Paradise ? It 
 cannot be far off now ! 
 
 I knew I should weep all the way if I set out with 
 my mother to meet her son ; and Cecile was afraid both 
 of the disappointment if she did not meet her husband, 
 and of his being displeased if he should come. So she 
 only took with her Annora and M.de Soli vet's two daughters, 
 Gabrielle and Petronille, wlio were fetched from the Con-
 
 XVII.] A PATIENT GRISEL. 219 
 
 vent of the Visitation. There they sat in the carriage, 
 JSTan told me, exactly alike in their pe7isio7inaires uniform, 
 stiff and shy on the edge of the seat, not daring to look 
 to the ri^ht or left, and answerino^ under their breath, so 
 that she longed to shake them. I found afterwards that 
 the heretic Mademoiselle de Eibaumont was a fearful 
 spectacle to them, and that they were expecting her all 
 the time to break out in the praises of Luther, or of 
 Henry VIII., or of some one whom they had been taught 
 to execrate ; and whenever she opened her lips they 
 thought she was going to pervert them, and were quite 
 surprised when she only made a remark, like other people, 
 on the carriages and horsemen who passed them. 
 
 ^leanwhile Cecile saw her little girl and boy dressed 
 in their best, and again rehearsed the curtsey and the 
 bow and the little speeches with which they w^ere to 
 meet their father. She was sure, she said, that wdiatever 
 he might think of her, he must be enchanted with them ; 
 and truly they had beautiful eyes, and Armantine was a 
 charming child, though Maurice was small and pale, and 
 neither equalled my Gaspard, who might have been a 
 "White Eibaumont for height and complexion, resembling 
 much his uncle Walwyn, and yet in countenance like 
 his father. Then Cecile and I, long before it was reason- 
 able, took our station near a window overlooking the 
 porte-cochere. I sat with my work, while the children 
 watched on the window-seat, and she, at every exclama-
 
 220 - STKAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 tion of theirs, leaped up to look out, but only to see 
 some woodcutter with his pile of faggots, or a washer- 
 woman carrying home a dress displayed on its pole, or 
 an ell of bread coming in from the baker's ; and she 
 resumed her interrupted conversation on her security 
 that for the children's sake her husband would set u]) 
 his household together with her at the Hotel d'Aubepine. 
 She had been learning all she could, while she was with 
 us, and if she could only be such that he need not be 
 ashamed of her, and would love her only a little for his 
 children's sake, how happy she should be 1 
 
 I encouraged her, for her little dull provincial con- 
 vent air was quite gone ; she had acquired the air of 
 society, my mother had taught her something of the art 
 of dress, and though nothing would ever make her 
 beautiful in feature, or striking in figure, she had such 
 a sweet, pleading, lovely expression of countenance that 
 I could not think how any one could resist her. At 
 last it was no longer a false alarm. The children cried 
 out, not in vain. The six horses were clattering under 
 the gateway, the carriage came in sight before the steps. 
 Cecile dropped back in her chair as pale as death, mur- 
 muring : " Tell me if he is there ! " 
 
 Alas ! " he " was not there. I only saw M. de 
 Solivet descend from the carriage and hand out my 
 mother, my sister, and his two daughters. I could but 
 embrace my poor sister-in-law, and assure her that I
 
 xvil] a patient grisel. 221 
 
 would bring her tidings of her husband, and then hurry 
 away with Gaspard that I might meet my half-brother at 
 the salon door. There he was, looking very happy, with 
 a daughter in each hand, and they had lighted up into 
 something like animation, which made Petronille especi- 
 ally show that she might some day be pretty. He 
 embraced me, like the good-natured friendly brother he 
 had always been, and expressed himself perfectly amazed 
 at the growth and beauty of my little Marquis, as well 
 he might be, for my mother and I both agreed that 
 there was not such another child among all the King's 
 pages. 
 
 I asked, as soon as I could, for M. d'Aubepine, and 
 heard that he was attending the Prince, who would, of 
 course, first have to dress, and then to present himself to 
 the Queen -Eegent, and kiss her hand, after which he 
 would go to Madame de Longueville's reception of the 
 King. It was almost a relief to hear that the Count was 
 thus employed, and I sent my son to tell his aunt that 
 she might be no longer in suspense. 
 
 I asked Solivet whether we might expect the young- 
 man on leaving the Louvre, and he only shrugged his 
 shoulders and said : " What know I ? " It became plain 
 to me that he would not discuss the matter before his 
 daughters, now fourteen and fifteen, and we all had to sit 
 down to an early supper, after which they were to be taken 
 back to their convent. Madame d'Aubepine appeared,
 
 999 
 
 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 and was quite cheerful, for she figured to herself once 
 more that her husband was only detained by his duties 
 and his value to his Prince, and was burning every 
 moment to see his little ones. She asked questions 
 about him, and became radiant when she heard of his 
 courage at Lens, and the compliments that M. le Prince 
 had paid to him. 
 
 After supper the little pensionnaires were to be 
 taken back, and as some lady must escort them, I under- 
 took the charge, finding with great delight that then- 
 father would accompany them likewise. I effaced my- 
 self as much as I could on the way, and let the father 
 and daughters talk to one another ; and they chattered 
 freely about their tasks, and works, and playfellows, 
 seeming very happy with him. 
 
 But on the way home was my opportunity, and I 
 asked what my half-brother really thought of M. d'Aube- 
 pine. 
 
 " He is a fine young man," he said. 
 
 " You have told me that before ; but what hopes are 
 there for his wife ? " 
 
 " Poor little thing," returned Solivet. 
 
 " Can he help loving her ? " I said. 
 
 " Alas 1 my sister, he has been in a bad school, and 
 has before him an example — of courage, it is true, but 
 not precisely of conjugal affection." 
 
 " Is it true, then," I asked, " that the Princess of
 
 XVII.] A PATIENT GKISEL. 223 
 
 Conde is kept utterly in the background in spite of her 
 mother-in-law, and that the Prince publishes his dislike 
 to her ? " 
 
 " Perfectly true/' said my brother. " When a hero, 
 adored by his officers, actually declares that the only 
 thing he does not wish to see in France is his wife, what 
 can you expect of them ? Even some who really love 
 their wives bade them remain at home, and will steal 
 away to see them with a certain shame ; and for Aube- 
 pine, he is only too proud to resemble the Prince in 
 being married against his will to a little half-deformed 
 child, who is to be avoided." 
 
 I cried out at this, and demanded whether my little 
 sister-in-law could possibly be thus described. He 
 owned that she was incredibly imj^roved, and begged my 
 pardon and hers, saying that he was only repeating what 
 Aubepine either believed or pretended to believe her to be. 
 
 " If I could only speak with him ! " I said. " For 
 my husband's sake I used to have some influence with 
 liim. I would give the world to meet him before he sees 
 the intendant and his wife. Could we contrive it ? " 
 
 In a few moments we had settled it. Happily we 
 were both in full dress, in case friends should have 
 dropped in on us. Both of us had the ent7'^e at Madame 
 de Longueville's, and it would be quite correct to pay 
 her our compliments on the return of her brother. 
 
 I believe Solivet a little questioned whether one so
 
 224 STRAY PEARLIS. [CHAP. 
 
 headstrong had not better be left to himself, but lie 
 allowed that no one had ever done as much with Armand 
 d'Aubepine as my husband and myself, and when he 
 heard my urgent wish to forestal the mtendant, whose 
 wife was C^cile's old tyrant. Mademoiselle de Gringri- 
 meau, he thought it worth the venture. He said I was 
 a warlike Gildippe still, and that he would stand by me. 
 
 So the coachman received his orders ; we fell in among 
 the long line of carriages, and in due time made our way 
 to the salon, where Madame la Duchesse de Longueville 
 sat enthroned in all the glory of her fair hair and 
 beautiful complexion, toying with her fan as she con- 
 versed with the Prince of Marsillac, the most favoured at 
 that time of a whole troop of admirers and devoted slaves. 
 She was not an intellectual woman herself, but she had 
 beyond all others whom I ever saw the power of leading 
 captive the very ablest men. 
 
 The hero had not yet come from the palace, and 
 having made our compliments, and received a gracious 
 smile and nod, we stood aside, waiting and conversing 
 with others, and in some anxiety lest the Prince should 
 be detained at the Louvre. However, before long he 
 came, and his keen eagle face, and the stars on his breast. 
 Hashed on us, as he returned the greetings of one group 
 after another in his own peculiar manner, haughty, and 
 yet not without a certain charm. 
 
 A troop of officers followed, mingling with the gay
 
 XVII.] A PATIENT GRISEL. 225 
 
 crowd of ladies and gentlemen, and among them Solivet 
 pointed out the Count d'Aubepine. I should not other- 
 wise have known him, so much was he altered in these 
 six years, changing him from youth to manhood. His 
 hair was much darker, he had a small pointed beard, and 
 the childish contour of cheek and chin had passed away, 
 and he was altogether developed, but there was some- 
 thing that did not reassure me. He seemed to have lost, 
 with his boyhood, that individuality which we had once 
 loved, and to have passed into an ordinary officer, like 
 all the rest of the gay, dashing, handsome, but often 
 hardened-looking men, who were enjoying their triumphant 
 return into ladies' society. 
 
 Solivet had accosted him. I saw his eye glance 
 anxiously round, then he seemed reassured, and came 
 towards me with some eagerness, greeting me with some 
 compliment, I know not what, on my appearance ; but I 
 cut this as short as I could by saying : " Know you. 
 Monsieur, why I am here ? I am come to ask you to 
 bestow a little half-hour on one who is longing to see 
 you." 
 
 " Madame, I am desolated to refuse you, but, you see, 
 I am in attendance, and on duty ; I am not the master ! " 
 
 However, my brother observed that he would not be 
 required for at least two hours, and his movements w^ould 
 be quite free until the party broke up. And after a little 
 importunity, I actually carried him off, holding up his 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 , STRAY PEARLS. . [CHAP 
 
 hands and declaring that he could not withstand Madame 
 4e Bellaise, so as to cast over his concession an air of 
 gallantry without which I believe his vanity would never 
 have yielded. 
 
 However, I had my hopes ; I would not blame him 
 when I had such an advantage over him as ha\ing liim 
 shut up with me in my coach, for we left Solivet to make 
 his excuses, and as we told him, for a hostage, to come 
 back when I released my prisoner. I trusted more to the 
 effect of the sight of my sweet little Cecile than to any 
 exhortation in my power ; indeed, I thought I had better 
 keep him in good humour by listening amiably to his 
 explanation of the great favour that he was doing me in 
 coming to see Madame, my mother, and how indispensable 
 he was to M. le Prince. 
 
 He must have known what I was carrying liim to 
 see, but he did not choose to show that he did, and when 
 he gave me his arm and I took him into the pansy saloii, 
 there sat my mother with my sister, two or three old 
 friends who had come to congratulate her, and to see 
 M. de Solivet, and Cecile, who had not been able to per- 
 suade herself to send her children to bed, though she 
 knew not of my audacious enterprise. 
 
 I saw that he did not know her in the least, as he 
 advanced to my mother, as the lady of the house, and in 
 one moment I recollected how my grandfather had fallen 
 in love with my grandmother without knowing she was
 
 XVII.] A PATIENT GRISEL. 227 
 
 liis wife. Cecile, crimson all over, with her children 
 beside her, sprang forward, her heart telling her who he 
 was. " Ah, Monsieur, embrace your son," she murmured. 
 And little Armantine and Maurice, as they had been 
 tutored, made their pretty reverences, and said, "Welcome, 
 my papa." 
 
 He really was quite touched. There was something, 
 too, in the surroundings which was sympathetic. He 
 embraced them all, and evidently looked at his wife with 
 amazement, sitting down at last beside her with his little 
 boy upon his knee. 
 
 We drew to the farther end of the room that they 
 might be unembarrassed. Annora was indignant that we 
 did not leave them alone, but I thought he wanted a 
 certain check upon him, and that it was good for him to 
 be in the presence of persons who expected him to be 
 delighted to see his wife and children. 
 
 I believe that that quarter of an hour was actual pain 
 to Cecile from the very overflowing rush of felicity. To 
 have her husband seated beside her, with his son upon his 
 knee, had been the dream and prayer of her life for six 
 years, and now that it was gratified the very intensity of 
 her hopes and fears choked her, made her stammer and 
 answer at random, when a woman without her depth of 
 affection might have put out all kinds of arts to win and 
 detain him. 
 
 After a time he put the child down, but still held his
 
 228 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 hand, came up to the rest of the company and mingled 
 with it. I could have wished they had been younger and 
 more fashionable, instead of a poor old Scottish cavalier 
 and his wife, my mother's old contemporary Madame de 
 Delincourt, and a couple of officers waiting for Solivet. 
 Annora was the only young brilliant creature there, and 
 she had much too low an opinion of M. d'Aubepine to 
 have a word to say to him, and continued to converse in 
 English with old Sir Andrew Macniven about the cam- 
 paigns of the Marquis of Montrose, both of them hurling 
 out barbarous names that were enough to drive civilised 
 ears out of the room. 
 
 Our unwilling guest behaved with tolerably good 
 grace, and presently made his excuse to my mother and 
 me, promising immediately to send back Solivet to his 
 friends. His wife went with him into the outer room, 
 and when in a few minutes Armantine ran back to call 
 me — 
 
 " Papa is gone, and mamma is crying," she said. 
 
 It was true, but they were tears of joy. Cecile threw 
 herself on my bosom perfectly overwhelmed with happi- 
 ness, poor little thing ! declaring that she owed it all to 
 me, and tliat though he could not remain now, he had 
 promised that she should hear from him. He was en- 
 chanted with his children ; indeed, how could he help it ? 
 And she would have kept me up all night, discussing 
 every hair of liis moustache, every tone in the few words
 
 XVII.] A PATIENT GRISEL. 229 
 
 he had spoken to her. When at last I parted from her 
 I could not help being very glad. Was the victory indeed 
 won, and would my Philippe's sister become a happy wife ? 
 
 I trusted that now he had seen her he would be 
 armed against Madame Croquelebois, who you will re- 
 member had been his grandmother's dame cle compagnie, 
 and a sort of governess to him. She had petted him as 
 much as she had afterwards tyrannised over his poor little 
 wife, and might still retain much influence over him, 
 which she was sure to exert against me. But at any rate 
 he could not doubt of his wife's adoration for him. 
 
 We waited in hope. We heard of the Prince in 
 attendance on the Queen-Eegent, and we knew his aicle- 
 de-camjj could not be spared, and we went on expecting 
 all the morning and all the evening, assuring Cecile that 
 military duty was inexorable, all the time that we were 
 boiling over with indignation. 
 
 My mother was quite as angry as we were, and from 
 her age and position could be more effective. She met 
 M. d'Aubepine one evening at the Louvre, and took him 
 to task, demanding when his wife was to hear from him, 
 and fairly putting him out of countenance in the presence 
 of the Queen of England. She came home triumphant 
 at what she had done, and raised our hopes again, but in 
 fact, though it impelled him to action, there was now 
 mortified vanity added to indifference and impatience of 
 the yoke.
 
 230 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAR 
 
 There was a letter the next day. Half an hour after 
 receiving it I found Cecile sunk down on the floor of her 
 apartment, upon which all her wardrobe was strewn about 
 as if to be packed up. She fell into my arms weeping 
 passionately, and declaring she must leave us. To leave 
 us and set up her manage with her husband had always 
 been her ambition, so it was plain that this was not what 
 she meant; but for a long time she neither would nor 
 could tell me, or moan out anything but "a convent," 
 " how could he ? " and " my children." 
 
 At last she let me read the letter, and a cruel one it 
 was, beginning "Madame," and giving her the choice of 
 returning to Chateau d'Aubepine under the supervision of 
 Madame Croquelebois, or of entering a convent, and sending 
 her son to be bred up at the Chateau under a tutor and 
 the intendant She had quite long enough lived with 
 Madame de Bellaise, and that young Englishman, her 
 brother, who was said to be charming. 
 
 It was an absolute insult to us all, and as I saw at 
 once was the work of Madame Croquelebois, accepted by 
 the young Count as a convenient excuse for avoiding the 
 ennui and expense of setting up a household with his 
 wife, instead of living a gay bachelor life with his Prince. 
 1 did not even think it was his handwriting except the 
 signature, an idea which gave the first ray of comfort to 
 my poor sister-in-law. It was quite provoking to find 
 that she had no spirit to resent, or even to blame ; she
 
 XVII.] A .PATIENT GRISEL. 231 
 
 only wept that any one should be so cruel, and, quite 
 hopeless of being heard in her own defence, was ready to 
 obey, and return under the power of her oppressor, if only 
 she might keep her son. All the four years she had 
 lived with us had not taught her self-assertion, and 
 the more cruelly she was wounded, the meeker she 
 became. 
 
 The Abbe said she was earning a blessing ; but I felt, 
 like Annora, much inclined to beat her, when she would 
 persist in loving and admiring that miserable fellow 
 through all, and calling him "so noble." 
 
 We did not take things by any means so quietly. 
 We were the less sorry for my brother's absence that such 
 an insinuation almost demanded a challenge, though in 
 truth I doubt whether they would have dared to make it 
 had he been at hand. Annora did wish she could take 
 sword or pistols in hand and make him choke on his own 
 words, and she was very angry that our brother de Solivet 
 was much too cool and prudent to take Eustace's quarrel 
 on himself. 
 
 Here, however, it was my mother who was most 
 reasonable, and knew best how to act. She said that it 
 was true that as this was my house, and the charge of 
 Madame d'Aubepine had been committed to me, I had 
 every right to be offended ; but as she was the eldest lady 
 in the house it was suitable for her to act. She wrote a 
 billet to him demanding a personal interview with him,
 
 232 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 that he might explain the insinuations which concerned 
 the honour of herself, her son, and her daughter. 
 
 I believe a duel would have been much more agree- 
 able to him than such a meeting, but my mother so con- 
 trived it that he knew that he could not fail to meet her 
 without its being known to the whole Court, and that he 
 could not venture. So he came, and I never saw any- 
 thing more admirably managed than the conference was 
 on my mother's part, for she chose to have me present 
 as mistress of the house. She had put on her richest 
 black velvet suit, and looked a most imposing chdtelainc, 
 and though he came in trying to carry it off with 
 military bravado and nonchalance, he w^as evidently ill 
 at ease. 
 
 My mother then demanded of him, in her own name, 
 her son's, and mine, what right or cause he had to make 
 such accusations, as he had implied, respecting our house. 
 
 He laughed uneasily, and tried to make light of it, 
 talking of reports, and inferences, and so on ; but my 
 mother, well assured that there was no such scandal, 
 drove him up into a corner, and made him confess that 
 he had heard nothing but from Madame Croquelebois. 
 My mother then insisted on that lady being called for, 
 sending her own sedan chair to bring her. 
 
 Now the Baronne de Eibaumont Walwyn was a 
 veritable grande dame, and Madame Croquelebois, in spite 
 of her sharp nose and sharper tongue, was quite cowed
 
 xvil] a patient geisel. 233 
 
 by her, and absolutely driven to confess that she had not 
 heard a word against Madame la Comtesse. All that 
 she had gone upon was the fact of their residence in the 
 same house, and that a servant of hers had heard from a 
 servant of ours that M. le Baron gave her his hand to go 
 in to dinner every day when there were no visitors. 
 
 It all became plain then. The intendanfs wife, who 
 had never forgiven me for taking her victim away from 
 her, had suggested this hint as an excuse for withdrawing 
 the Countess from me, without obliging the Count to 
 keep house with her, and becoming the attentive husband, 
 Tvho seemed, to his perverted notions, a despicable being. 
 Perhaps neither of them had expected the matter to be 
 taken up so seriously, and an old country-bred Huguenot, 
 as Madame Croquelebois had originally been, thought 
 that as we were at Court, gallantry was our natural 
 atmosphere. 
 
 Having brought them to confession, we divided them. 
 My mother talked to the intendante, and made her per- 
 ceive what a wicked, cruel injustice and demoralisation 
 she was leading her beloved young Count into committing, 
 injuring himself and his children, till the woman actually 
 w^ept, and allowed that slie had not thought of it ; she 
 wanted to gratify him, and she felt it hard and ungrate- 
 ful that she should not watch over his wife and children 
 as his grandmother had always intended. 
 
 On my side I had M. d'Aubepine, and at last I
 
 234 ■ STRAY PEARLS. [gHAP. 
 
 worked down to the Armand I had known at Nancy, not 
 indeed the best of subjects, but still infinitely better than 
 the conceited, reckless man who had appeared at first. 
 The one thing that touched him was that I should think 
 him disrespectful to me, and false to his friendship for my 
 husband. He really had never thought his words would 
 hurt me for a moment. He actually shed tears at the 
 thought of my Philippe, and declared that nothing was 
 farther from his intention than any imputation on any 
 one belonging to me. 
 
 But bah ! he was absolutely driven to find some 
 excuse ! How could he play the devoted husband to a 
 little ugly imbecile like that, who would make him 
 ridiculous. every moment they appeared together? Yes, 
 he knew I had done the best I could for her, but 
 what was she after all ? And her affection was 
 worst of all. Everybody would make game of 
 him. 
 
 There was no getting farther. The example of the 
 Prince of Conde and the fear of ridicule had absolutely 
 steeled his heart and blinded his eyes. He could not 
 and would not endure the innocent wife who adored 
 him. 
 
 Finally, my mother, calling in Solivet, came to the 
 following arrangement, since it was plain that we must 
 part with our inmates. Cecile and her children were 
 to be installed in the Hotel d'Aubepine, to which her
 
 XVII.] A PATIENT. GRISEL. 235 
 
 husband did not object, since he would be either in 
 attendance on the Prince, or with his regiment. This 
 was better than sending her either to a convent or to 
 the country, since she would still be within our reach, 
 although to our great vexation we could not prevail so 
 far as to hinder Madame Croquelebois from being installed 
 as her duenna, the intendant himself returning to La 
 Vendee. 
 
 To our surprise, Cecile did not seem so much dis- 
 mayed at returning under the power of her tyrant as we 
 had expected. It was doing what her husband wished, 
 and living where she would have news of him, and per- 
 haps sometimes see him. 
 
 That was all she seemed to think about, except that 
 she would have her children still with her, and not be 
 quite cut ofP from us. 
 
 And I took this consolation, that she was in better 
 health, and a woman of twenty -two could not be so 
 easily oppressed as a sickly child of sixteen. 
 
 But we were very unhappy about it, and Annora 
 almost frantic, above all at Cecile's meek submission. 
 She was sure the poor thing would be dead in a month, 
 and then we should be sorry.
 
 236 STEAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT, OR WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 My mother declared that Madame d'Aubepine would fare 
 the better if we left her alone and did not excite the 
 jealousy of Madame Croquelebois, who would be quite 
 capable of carrying her off into the country if she were 
 interfered with. 
 
 Indeed it was not an easy or a pleasant thing to go 
 about Paris just then, and we were obliged to stay at 
 home. The town was in a restless state, mobs went 
 about, hooting or singing political songs, or assembled in 
 front of the Louvre to abuse the Cardinal, and any one 
 who was supposed to belong to the Court party might at 
 any time be mobbed. Annora and I much missed the 
 explanations that our brother. Lord Walwyn, used to 
 make to us ; and the listening to his conversations with 
 M. Darpent. The Duchess de Eambouillet and her 
 family had wisely retired to their estates, so that there 
 were no more meetings in the Salon Bleu ; and after what 
 my brother had said to me, I durst not make the slightest
 
 XVIII.] TWELFTH NIGHT, OR WHAT YOU WILL. 
 
 237 
 
 demonstration towards Clement Darpent, though I con- 
 tinued to give my weekly receptions to our poor hungry 
 cavaliers, as I had promised Eustace that I would do. 
 It was from one of them, Sir Andrew Macniven, a clever 
 man who had been a law student in Scotland and at 
 Leyden, that we came to some understanding of what 
 was going on around us. 
 
 Under the great Cardinal de Eichelieu, the Crown had 
 taken more authority than ever, and raised taxes at its 
 will. The Parliament was only permitted to register 
 the edicts of the Crown, but not to refuse them, as it 
 claimed to do. As nobody who was noble paid taxes, 
 the noblesse did not care, and there had hitherto seemed 
 to be no redress. But at this moment, when the war 
 taxes were weighing more heavily than ever, and the 
 demand of a house-tax had irritated the people of Paris, 
 there were a very large number of the nobility much 
 incensed against Cardinal Mazarin, and very jealous of 
 his favour with the Queen-Eegent. What they would 
 endure from a French nobleman like Eichelieu they 
 abhorred from a low-born foreigner such as Mazarin was ; 
 and it seemed to the Parliament that this was the 
 moment to make a stand, since they had the populace 
 on their side, and likewise so many of the Court party. 
 There was the Archbishop of Corinth, the Coadjutor to 
 the Archbishop of Paris, who had been mortally offended 
 by the way in which the Queen had treated him on
 
 238 . ./ STRAY PEARLS. ; [CHAP. 
 
 the ; day of the barricades; there was the handsome, 
 fair-haired Duke of Beaufort, a grandson of Henri IV., 
 who used to be called " Le roi cles halles" he was such a 
 favourite with the market-women ; there was the clever 
 brilliant Prince de Marsillac (you know well his Maxims, 
 written after he had become Duke of Eochefoucauld). 
 He could do anything with Madame de Longueville ; and 
 she was thought able to do anything with her brothers, 
 the Princes of Conde and Conti. Every one had been 
 watching to see what side the Prince would take, but at 
 this time he seemed inclined to the Crown, though it was 
 not likely he could go on long without quarrelling ^\dth 
 Mazarin. All this made the Frond eurs hope much from 
 beginning to resist ; but I remember Sir Andrew said 
 that he did not think that much would be done, for he 
 did not believe that these nobles and princes cared in the 
 least for relieving the people, but merely for overthrowing 
 the Cardinal, and he could not find out that the Parlia- 
 ment had any definite scheme, or knew what they 
 wished. In fact. Sir Andrew dreaded any movement. 
 He had been so much disappointed, and so broken- 
 hearted at the loss of friends and the ruin of the country, 
 that his only thought was to leave all alone. And 
 above all he so thought, when every letter from England 
 told how the enemy were proceeding to hunt down his 
 Sacred Majesty. 
 
 What a change it was when my son and I had to
 
 XVIII.] TWELFTH NIGHT, OR WHAT YOU WILL. 239 
 
 go int^o Waiting at the Louvre ! Before the Qiieen- 
 Eegent there was nothing but vituperation of the Parlia- 
 ment, but the Duke of Orleans hated the Cardinal quite 
 as much as the Parisians did ; and his daughter, Made- 
 moiselle, wanted him to lead the Prondeurs, which he 
 had not courage to do. She thought me a Prondeuse, 
 and chatted to me of her plan of leading the party, 
 together with the Prince of Conde, whom she eagerly 
 desired to marry if his poor wife could be divorced. I 
 used to shake my head at her and say I knew she was 
 too good at the bottom to desire anything so shocking, 
 and she took it in good part. She was much better 
 than she chose to seem. 
 
 Thus the eve of the Epiphany came, and there was 
 a feast for the King and his little companions. Gaspard 
 had the Bean, and the Queen crowned him and made 
 him King of the night. King Louis himself had to bend 
 the knee, which he did with the best grace in the 
 world. (You must all have seen the little enamelled 
 Bean-flower badge that your father received on that 
 night.) 
 
 Every one went to see the children at their feast, 
 where the little English Lady Henrietta sat between her 
 two royal cousins, looking like a rosebud, all ignorant, 
 poor child, of the sad disaster which was falling on her. 
 Her mother was looking on, smiling in the midst of her 
 cares to see the children's glee.
 
 240 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 The Queen-Eegent was in the highest spirits. "VVe 
 had never seen her dignity so relax into merriment as 
 when she set the little ones to dance together after 
 the supper was over ; but she sent them to bed early, 
 much earlier than her sons desired. We heard 
 his real Majesty saying to Gaspard, '' M. le Marquis, 
 since you are King of the Bean, command that we should 
 be like all other revellers, and sit up till morning." 
 
 My boy looked up to me, and read in my face that 
 he must not presume. 
 
 " Ah, sire !" said he, " though we are called kings, 
 these ladies are the higher powers." 
 
 It was applauded as a grand witticism, although 
 Gaspard meant it in all simplicity, and had no notion of 
 the meaning attributed to it. Nay, he thought all the 
 praise was approval of him as a good boy inducing the 
 King to be obedient. 
 
 After the children had gone to bed, including Made- 
 moiselle's three little half-sisters, dull little girls of whom 
 she spoke contemptuously but always treated very kindly, 
 she led the way to the apartment where her father was 
 sitting by a great fire, fretful with gout, and wanting the 
 amusement which she tried to give him by describing 
 the children's diversions. Some one came and whispered 
 something to her, and in the tone of one who has an 
 excellent joke to rehearse she went up to the Duke of 
 Orleans, exclaiming —
 
 XVIII.] TWELFTH NIGHT, OR WHAT YOU WILL. 241 
 
 " Monsieur ! Here is news ! We are all to start for 
 St. Germain this very night !" 
 
 Monsieur made no answer, and immediately after 
 bade her good night. She then went to her stepmother's 
 room, and I remained with some of the other ladies, who 
 were pretty well convinced that it was a true report, and 
 that the Queen had been only waiting the arrival of the 
 troops from the Low Countries to quit Paris and crush 
 the resistance of the Parliament. What was to become 
 of us we did not know, whether we were to stay or go ; 
 but as we heard no more, and Mademoiselle came out 
 and went to bed, we followed her example. 
 
 Between three and four we were all awakened by a 
 loud knocking at the door, and Mademoiselle's shrill 
 voice calling out to her maids to open it. Through the 
 anteroom, where the Comtesse de Piesque and I were 
 sleeping, there came M. de Comminges. Mademoiselle, 
 in her laced night-cap, rose on her pillows and asked — 
 
 " Are we going ? " 
 
 " Yes, Mademoiselle," was the reply. " The King, 
 the Queen, and Monsieur, are waiting for you in the 
 court, and here is a letter from Monsieur." 
 
 She put it aside, saying she did not want Monsieur's 
 orders to make her obey those of the Queen, but he 
 begged her to read it. She glanced at it, and then de- 
 clared that she would be ready immediately. M. de 
 Comminges departed, and then began the greatest bustle 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 STEAY PEAKLS. [CHAP. 
 
 imaginable, everybody dressing at once in the greatest 
 confusion, putting on each other's tilings by mistake, 
 and Mademoiselle talking — talking through all. 
 
 They were afraid to leave her behind, she said, lest 
 she should have headed a party. ISTo doubt M. le Prince 
 dreaded her influence, and so did the Queen. They had 
 made her father issue his commands without warning 
 lest she should disobey. 
 
 In fact she had the greatest desire to disobey, only 
 she did not quite venture, and we her ladies had no 
 notion what we were to do, whether to stay or go, while 
 I was in great anxiety as to what they might have done 
 with my boy. 
 
 Somehow or other we all found ourselves in the court 
 of the Louvre, strongly lighted by flambeaux, and by the 
 windows of the building. There stood a row of carriages ; 
 Mademoiselle called for hers, but it was not forthcomiug, 
 and M. de Comminges, bowing low, offered her his own ; 
 but another gentleman came up and handed her into the 
 royal one, where already were the King and Queen, the 
 two Princesses of Conde, the Prince of Conti, and a lady. 
 
 I heard Mademoiselle asserting her right to one of 
 the best seats, and then declaring that she yielded " as 
 the young must give place to the old," a little cut at the 
 Princess Dowager of Conde. She bade Madame de 
 Fiesque follow with her carriage and properties, and we 
 were left in the most wonderful confusion in that dark
 
 xviil] twelfth night, or what you will. 243 
 
 court, the carriages moving away one after another, the 
 mounted servants carrying torches, and the guards tramp- 
 ling and clinking behind them ; servants, gentlemen, and 
 ladies running about wildly, some of the women crying 
 and wringing their hands. Among these was Madame 
 de Fiesque, who was of a timid nature, and was frightened 
 out of her wits at the notion of having to follow, whither 
 she did not even know, while I was equally wild, though 
 I hope I did not make quite so much noise, about 
 my son. 
 
 One of the gentlemen at last came and spoke to us, 
 and told us that the King and Queen were gone to St. 
 Germam. It had all been determined upon for some 
 time past (as soon in fact as the Queen knew that the 
 Prince of Conde would support her, and that the troops 
 were near enough to be of use), and this night had been 
 chosen because she could get off more easily in a time of 
 revelry. Monsieur had known it all the evening, but 
 had been afraid to tell his daughter because of "her 
 ideas," which meant that he was by no means sure that 
 she might choose to obey, unless she were taken by sur- 
 prise, but might want to represent the House of Orleans 
 at Paris. The Queen of England was not gone ; and, as 
 to M. le Marquis de Nidemerle — 
 
 That question was answered by a sound of bare, patter- 
 ing feet, and a cry of " Mamma, mamma !" and my little 
 Marquis himself, with nothing on but his little white
 
 244 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 shirt and black velvet breeches, his long hair streaming 
 behind him, came and threw himself on me, followed by 
 two or three more little fellows in the same state of 
 deshabille. " Oh, mamma !" he cried, " we thought they 
 were all gone, and had left us to be murdered by the 
 cruel Parliament ; and then I saw you from the window 
 in the court." So there they all were, except one little 
 Count from Burgundy, who slept serenely through the 
 tumult. 
 
 By this time we could recollect that it was a January 
 night, and that we had better retreat into the great hall, 
 where the fire was not out. I had a great mind, since 
 we were thus deserted, to return home with my son, but 
 my poor Princess could not be left without a single 
 attendant, or any clothes save what had been huddled on 
 in haste, nor perhaps even a bed, for we knew that St- 
 Germain was dismantled of furniture, and that no pre- 
 parations had been made for fear of giving alarm. 
 
 Madame de Fiesque declared that she should die if 
 she tried to pass the streets of Paris, where we began 
 to hear loud cries. The maids seemed to have all run 
 away, and she implored me to go, with all that was most 
 necessary, to Mademoiselle. 
 
 " You are English ! You are a very Gildippe. You 
 have been in the wars — you fear nothing," said the poor 
 woman. " I implore you to go ! " 
 
 And as I had my son with me, and it seemed to be
 
 XVIII.] TWELFTH NIGHT, OR WHAT YOU WILL. 245 
 
 a duty or even a charity that no one else would under- 
 take, though it was not likely that any harm could come 
 to us, I sent Gaspard to dress himself, with my faithful 
 Nicolas, who had come to light. The gentleman under- 
 took to find us Mademoiselle's coach, and we hurried 
 back to get together what we could for our mistress. I 
 laugh now to think of Madame de Fiesque and myself 
 trying with our inexperienced hands to roll up a mattress 
 and some bedding, and to find the linen and the toilet 
 requisites, in which we had but small success, for the 
 femmes de chamhre kept everything, and had all either 
 run away or slept too far off to hear us. We managed at 
 last to fasten up the mattress with the other things in it, 
 tied by a long scarf at each end, and dragging it to the 
 top of the stairs we rolled it down each flight. At the 
 second it upset an unfortunate lackey, who began to yell, 
 firmly persuaded that it was a corpse, and that the 
 Frondeurs had got in and were beginning a general 
 slaughter. 
 
 How we recovered from the confusion I do not know, 
 but Gaspard joined me at the top of the stairs, bringing 
 with him a page of his own age, the little Chevalier de 
 Mericour, whom he entreated me to take with us. All 
 the other boys had relations close at hand ; but this 
 child's mother was dead, and his father and brothers with 
 the army. Being really a cousin of Harry Merrycourt's, 
 he had always seemed like a relation, and he was Gas-
 
 246 STEAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 pard's chief friend, so I was very willing to give him a 
 seat in the carriage, which came from somewhere, and 
 into which the mattress was squeezed by some means or 
 other. Off we set, but no woman of any rank would 
 accompany me, for they said I had the courage of an 
 Amazon to attempt to make my way through the mob 
 that was howling in the streets. 
 
 It certainly was somewhat terrible when we came 
 out into the street thronged with people carrying lanterns 
 and torches, and tried to make our way step by step. 
 We had not gone far before a big man, a butcher I should 
 think, held up a torch to the window, and seeing my 
 son's long fair hair, shouted, " The KiQg ! the King ! 
 Here is the Queen carrying away the King and the Duke 
 of Anjou ! " 
 
 The whole mob seemed to surge round us, shrieking, 
 screaming, and yelling ; some trying to turn the horses, 
 others insisting that we should alight. No one heard 
 my assurances that we were no such personages, that this 
 was Mademoiselle's carriage, and that the Queen was 
 gone long ago ; and, what was more fortunate, their ears 
 did not catch young Mericour's denunciations of them as 
 vile canaille. A market woman mounted on the step, 
 and perceiving the mattress, screeched out, " The Cardinal 
 — they are carrying off the Cardinal rolled up in a 
 mattress ! " 
 
 Their fury was redoubled. I began to untie it to
 
 XVIII.] TWELFTH NIGHT, OR WHAT YOU WILL. 247 
 
 show tliem there was nothing, but we had drawn the 
 knots too tight, and Gaspard's little sword would not of 
 course cut, nay, the gleam of it only added to the general 
 fury. I really think if the Cardinal had been there they 
 would have torn him to pieces. They were trying to 
 drag open the doors, and would have done so much sooner 
 but for the crowds who were pushed against them and 
 kept them shut. At last there seemed to be some one 
 among them with a more authoritative tone. The pressure 
 on the door lessened, and it was to my dismay torn open ; 
 but at that moment my son called out, " M. Darpent ! 
 Oh, M. Darpent, come to my mother ! " Immediately 
 M. Clement Darpent, unarmed and in his usual dress, with 
 only a little cane in his hand, made his way forward. 
 Before I saw him I heard his welcome voice calling, 
 " Madame de Bellaise here ! I am coming, M. le Marquis ! 
 The Queen ! Bdtise I I tell you it is a lady of my 
 acquaintance." 
 
 " The Cardinal ! She is carrying off the Italian rolled 
 up in a mattress ! Down with the fox ! " came another 
 terrible outcry ; but by this time M. Darpent had been 
 hustled up to the door, and put himself between us and 
 the throng. He could hear me now when I told him it 
 was merely Mademoiselle's bedding which we were 
 carrying out to her. He shouted out this intelligence, 
 and it made a lull ; but one horrid fellow in a fur cap 
 sneered, " We know better than that, Monsieur ! Away
 
 248 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 with traitors 1 and those who would smuggle them 
 away ! " 
 
 " Oh ! show it to them ! " I cried ; and then I saw a 
 face that I had known in the hospital, and called him by 
 name. "Jean Marie, my good friend, have you your 
 knife to cut these cords and show there is nothing 
 inside ? " 
 
 The man's honest face lighted up. " Hein ! the good 
 tall lady who brought me houillons ! I warrant there is 
 no harm in her, brothers ! She's a good Frondeuse, and 
 has nothing to do with foreign traitors." 
 
 He ranged himself beside Clement Darpent, offering 
 a big knife, wherewith in a moment the bands were cut 
 and the mattress held up to view, with a few clothes inside. 
 
 I made my two defenders understand that they were 
 Mademoiselle's garments, and when this was repeated 
 there was a general shout : " Vive la bonne dame ! Vive 
 Mademoiselle ! Vive Monsieur ! Vive la Fronde ! '* 
 
 Jean Marie, who had worked in a furniture shop, 
 would have rolled up the bed in a trice much better than 
 before, but M. Darpent observed that as we were not yet out 
 of Paris it might bring us into trouble, and, inconvenient 
 as it was, he advised us to keep it open till we were 
 beyond the gates. He asked permission to accompany 
 me to prevent any further annoyance, and Jean Marie, 
 to the extreme disgust of the servants, mounted the box, 
 to serve as an additional guard.
 
 XVIII.] TWELFTH NIGHT, OR WHAT YOU WILL. 249 
 
 No one could be kinder than M. Darpent. He was 
 very sad about this flight of the Court. He said he 
 feared it was the beginning of a civil war, and that he 
 had thought better of the blood royal and noblesse of 
 France than to suppose they would assist a Spanish 
 woman and an Italian priest to trample down and starve 
 their fellow-countrymen in the name of a minor king. 
 He expected that there would be a siege, for he was sure 
 that the temper of the people was averse to yielding, 
 and the bourgeois put their trust in the archers. 
 
 I asked if he thought there would be any danger, think- 
 ing that I would either join my mother and sister or 
 endeavour to fetch them away ; but he assured me that 
 they would be perfectly safe. Was not the Queen of 
 England left, as I assured him, and the Duchess of 
 Longueville ? M. le Prince would allow no harm to touch 
 the place where lived the sister he so passionately loved. 
 I might be secure that the Hotel de Nid de Merle 
 was perfectly safe, and he would himself watch to see 
 that they were not annoyed or terrified. He gave me 
 the means of writing a billet to my mother from his 
 little Advocate's portfolio, and he promised himself to 
 convey it to her and assure her of our safety, a message 
 which I thought would make him welcome even to her. 
 He was most kind in every way, and when we came 
 near the gate bethought him that the two little boys 
 looked pale and hungry, as well they might. He stopped
 
 250 STEAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 the carriage near a baker's shop, which was already open, 
 and going in himself, returned with not only bread, but a 
 jug and cup of milk. I think we never enjoyed any- 
 thing so much ; and in the meantime the excellent Jean 
 Marie rolled up our mattress so close that, as Gaspard 
 said, it could hardly have been supposed to contain a 
 puppy dog. 
 
 They saw us safely through the barriers. M. Darpent 
 gave his word for us, and out we went into the country 
 while scarcely the dawn was yet seen. At a turn in the 
 road we saw only the morning star hanging like a great 
 lamp in the east, and I showed it to the little boys, and 
 told them of the three kings led by the Star to the 
 Cradle. I heard afterwards that the little Chevalier 
 thought we saw the real Star in the East sent to guide 
 us to St. Germain, forgetting that it was the wrong direc- 
 tion ; but he had been very little taught, and this was 
 the first he had ever heard of the Gospel, which was 
 familiar to my boy. They both fell asleep presently on 
 the cushions, and I think I did so likewise, for I was 
 surprised to find myself at St. Germain in broad daylight. 
 Everybody was gone to mass for the festival, and we 
 crept in after them. 
 
 Mademoiselle was delighted to see me, and always 
 believed we had made our passage so safely in consequence 
 of the respect paid to her and her carriage. It was a 
 strange day ; no one did anything but run about and
 
 XVIII.] TWELFTH XIGHT, OR WHAT YOU WILL. • 251 
 
 hear or tell news of liow the people in Paris were taking 
 the departure of the Court, and wonder when the troops 
 would come up to begin the siege, or, what was more 
 pressing, what was to be done for food and for bedding. 
 We ate as we could. Eggs and fowls were brought in 
 from the farms, but plates and dishes, knives and forks, 
 were very scarce. Some of us were happy when we 
 could roast an egg in the embers for ourselves, and then 
 eat it when it was hard enough, and I thought how useful 
 Annora would have been, who had done all sorts of 
 household work during the troubles at home. But we 
 were very merry over these devices. 
 
 The night was a greater difficulty. Most of the 
 windows had no frames nor glass in them, and hardly 
 any one had a bed. Mademoiselle slept in a long gallery, 
 splendidly painted and gilt, but with the wind blowing 
 at every crevice through the shutters, no curtains ; only 
 a few marble tables against the wall by way of furni- 
 ture, and the mattress spread upon the floor for her and 
 her youngest sister, who would not sleep unless she sang, 
 and who woke continually. 
 
 I rolled up my two little boys in my great fur cloak, 
 which I had happily brought with me, for no one seemed 
 disposed to take any charge of poor little Mericour, and 
 Nicolas fetched me the cusliions from the carriage, so that 
 they were tolerably comfortable. 
 
 As to us ladies and gentlemen, we rejoiced that at
 
 252 STRAY PEARLS. [CHAP. 
 
 least faggots could be had. We made up a great fire, 
 and sat round it, some playing at cards, others playing at 
 games, telling stories, or reciting poetry, interspersed with 
 the sillier pastime of love-making. Every one nodded 
 off to sleep, but soon to wake again, — and, oh, how stiff 
 we were, and how our bones ached after two such nights ! 
 
 And the saddest and most provoking thing, at least 
 to many of us, was the high spirits of the Queen-Eegent. 
 To be sure, she had not been without a bed in an 
 unglazed room all night, and had a few maids and a 
 change of clothes, but she had probably never been so 
 much out of reach of state in her life, and she evidently 
 found it most amusing. She did not seem to have an 
 idea that it was a fearful thing to begin a civil war, but 
 thought the astonishment and disappointment of the 
 Parisians an excellent joke. Grave and stately as she 
 was by nature, she seemed quite transformed, and laughed 
 like a girl when no gold spoon could be found for her 
 chocolate and she had to use a silver one. Yes, and she 
 laughed still more at the ill-arranged limp curls and 
 tumbled lace of us poor creatures who had sat up all 
 night, and tried to dress one another, with one pocket- 
 comb amongst us all ! 
 
 All that day and all the next, however, parts of 
 different people's equipages kept coming from Paris. 
 Mademoiselle's were escorted by Madame de Fiesque, 
 who had been so civilly treated that Mademoiselle gave
 
 XVIII.] TWELFTH NIGHT, OR WHAT YOU WILL, 253 
 
 passports for the Queen's waggons to come through Paris ; 
 and it was considered to be a great joke that one of the 
 bourgeois, examining a large box of new Spanish gloves, 
 was reported to have been quite overcome by the per- 
 fume, and to have sneezed violently when he came to 
 examine them. 
 
 "We were in a strange state up there on the heights 
 of St. Germain. Some of the Court had no hangings for 
 their great draughty rooms, others had no clothes, and 
 those who had clothes had no bedding. Very few of us 
 had any money to supply our wants, and those who had 
 soon lent it all to the more distressed. The Queen her- 
 self was obliged to borrow from the Princess Dowager, 
 even to provide food, and the keeping up of separate 
 tables was impossible. We all dined together, King and 
 Queen, Monsieur, Madame, and all, and the first day 
 there was nothing but a great ;pot au feu and the houilli 
 out of it ; for the cooks had not arrived. Even the 
 spoons and knives were so few that we had to wash 
 them and use them in turn. However, it was all gaiety 
 on those first days, the Queen was so merry that it was 
 every one's cue to be the same ; and as to the King and 
 the Duke of Anjou, they were full of mischief; it was 
 nothing but holiday to them to have no Court re- 
 ceptions. 
 
 At eight o'clock in the evening there came a deputa- 
 tion from Paris. They were kept waiting outside in
 
 254 STRAY PEAELS. [CHAP. 
 
 the snow while the Queen considered whether to receive 
 them ; and she could hardly be persuaded to allow them 
 to sleep under shelter at St. Germain, though on the road 
 at that time of night they were in danger from brigands, 
 travelling soldiers, and I know not what ! 
 
 They were at last admitted to the ranger's lodgings, 
 and had an interview with the Chancellor, who was 
 harsh and peremptory, perhaps feeling himself avenged 
 for his troubles and fright on the day of the bamcades. 
 
 When I heard that the President Darpent was among 
 the deputation I sent Mcolas to find out whether his son 
 were there ; and by and by I received a little billet, 
 which excited much more attention than I wished. 
 Some told me I was a Frondeuse, and M. le Baron de 
 Lament pretended to be consumed with jealousy. I had 
 to explain publicly that it was only from my sister, and 
 then they pretended not to believe me. It was in 
 English, a tongue of which nobody knew a single word, 
 ex:cept that scandal declared that the Duke of Bucking- 
 ham had taught the Queen to say " Ee lofe ou ; " but it 
 said only: "We are quite well, and not alarmed, since 
 we know you are safe. We had heard such strange 
 rumours that my mother welcomed our friend as an angel 
 of consolation." 
 
 I translated this to all whom it concerned ; but M. 
 de Lament annoyed me much with his curiosity and in- 
 credulity. However, when I found that the unfortunate
 
 XVIII.] TWELFTH NIGHT, OR WHAT YOU WILL. 255 
 
 deputies were permitted to spend the niglit in the guard- 
 room I sent Nicolas to see whether he could be of any use 
 to the Darpents. Truly it was a night when, as the 
 English say, one would not turn out one's enemy's dog, 
 and the road to Paris was far from safe ; but the ranger's 
 house was a wretched place for elderly men more used to 
 comfort than even the nohlesse, whose castles are often 
 bare enough, and who are crowded and ill accommodated 
 when in waiting at the palaces. 
 
 At that moment a bed was to ourselves a delightful 
 luxury, which Madame de Fiesque and I were to share, 
 so Nicolas could not do much for poor old Darpent, whom 
 he found wet through from having waited so long in the 
 snow, melting as it fell ; but he did lend him his own 
 dry cloak, and got some hot drink for him. Clement 
 professed himself eternally grateful for this poor attention 
 when in the morning I sent my son with another note in 
 return to be sent to my mother and sister ; and he pro- 
 mised to watch over them as his own life. 
 
 This was the last communication I had with my 
 family for two months. The Queen had declared that 
 her absence would be only "a little expedition of a week;" 
 but week after week passed on, and there we still were 
 on the hill. The troops could not entirely surround Paris, 
 but they cut off the chief supplies of provisions, and we 
 were promised that this would bring the city to submission 
 in a day or two ; but no such thing. I think we were,
 
 256 STRAY PEAKLS. [CHAP. 
 
 on the whole, more hungry than those whom we 
 blockaded. 
 
 As each set of officials finished their time of waiting 
 they retired, and nobody came to replace them, so our 
 party became smaller from day to day, which was the 
 less to be regretted as our Lent was Lent indeed. Nobody 
 had any money, and provisions ran very short ; everybody 
 grumbled but the Queen and Cardinal, and ^lademoiselle, 
 who enjoyed the situation and laughed at everybody. 
 
 In the intervals of grumbling every one was making 
 love. M. de Juvizy actually was presumptuous enough 
 to make love to the Queen, or to boast that he did. 
 Mademoiselle, I am sorry to say, was in love, or, more 
 truly, in ambition with the Prince of Conde ; M. de S. 
 Maigrin was said to be in love with the Princess, M. 
 de Chatillon with Mademoiselle de Guerchy, and so 
 on. 
 
 Even I, who had always declared that it was a 
 woman's own fault if she had a lover, did not escape. 1 
 had not my mother to shield me, and nobody had any- 
 thing to do, so it was the universal fashion ; and M. de 
 Lament thought proper to pursue me. I knew he was 
 dissipated and good-for-notliing, and I showed the coldest 
 indifference ; but that only gave him the opportunity of 
 talking of my cruelty, and he even persuaded Mademoiselle 
 to assure me that he was in earnest. 
 
 " No doubt," said I, " he would like to meddle with
 
 XVIII.] TWELFTH NIGHT, OR WHAT YOU WILL. 257 
 
 the administration of Nid de Merle. I have no doubt lie 
 is in earnest about that ! " 
 
 But there was no escape, as we lived, from being 
 beset. We had all to attend the Queen to the Litanies 
 at the chapel. She used to remain in her little oratory 
 praying long after they were finished, Mademoiselle with 
 her, and, by her own account, generally asleep. I am 
 ashamed to say how much chatter, and how many petits 
 soins, went on among those waiting outside. I used to 
 kneel, as I heard people say, like a grim statue over my 
 chair, with my rosary hanging from my hands, for if I 
 did but hear a rustle and turn my head, there stood M. 
 de Lamont with a honhonnidre, or a bouquet, or an offer 
 to shield me from the draught, and I could hear a tittering 
 behind me. 
 
 Yet there was enough to make us grave. In a fight 
 with the Frondeurs for Charenton, M. de Chatillon, one 
 of the handsomest and gayest of our cavaliers, was killed. 
 He was the grandson of the Admiral de Coligny, and was 
 said to have been converted to the Church by the miracle 
 of the ducks returning regularly to the pond where the 
 saint had bound them to come. I think he must have 
 made up his mind beforehand. But it was a great shock 
 to have that fine young man thus cut down the day after 
 he had been laughing and dancing in our gallery. Yet 
 all people seemed to think of, when everybody went to 
 condole with his young widow in her bed, was that she 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 STEAY PEARLS. [CHAP. XVIII. 
 
 had set herself off to the best advantage to captivate M. 
 de Nemours ! 
 
 And then came the great thunderbolt — the tidings of 
 the death of the King of England ! I knew it would 
 almost kill Eustace; I thought of my poor godmother, 
 Queen Henrietta, and there I was among people who did 
 not really care in the least ! It was to them merely a 
 great piece of news, that enabled them to say, " Yield an 
 inch to the Parliament, and see what it will come to." 
 
 That kind, dignified, melancholy countenance as I 
 last saw it was constantly before me. The babble of the 
 people around seemed to me detestable. I answered at 
 haphazard, and begged permission of Mademoiselle to keep 
 my room for a day, as I thought I should be distracted 
 if I could not get out of reach of M. de Lament. 
 
 She gave permission, but she said it was an affectation 
 of mine, for how could I care for a sombre old prince 
 whom I had not seen for ten years ? 
 
 END OF VOL. L 
 
 Printed by v.. & R. Ci.\v.K, Edinburgh.
 
 MESSRS. MACMILLAN & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 THE NOVELS AND TALES OF CHARLOTTE M. YONGE. 
 
 New Illustrated Edition, in 16 volumes, Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 6s. each. With 
 Illustrations by Kate Greenaway, H. Gandy, A. Stokes, J. P. Atkinson, Marian 
 Huxley, W. J. Hennessy, and Jane E. Cook. 
 
 THE HEIR OF RED- THE YOUNG STEP- 1 LADY HESTER and the 
 CLYFFE. MOTHER. | DANVERS PAPERS. 
 
 HEARTSEASE. THE TRIAL. i MAGNUM BONUM. 
 
 DYNEVOR TERRACE. MY YOUNG ALCIDES. HOPES AND FEARS. 
 
 PILLARS of the HOUSE. THE DOVE IN THE THE DAISY CHAIN. 
 Two Vols. EAGLE'S NEST. THE THREE BRIDES. 
 
 CLEVER WOMAN OF THE CHAPLET OF THE CAGED LION. 
 THE FAMILY. PEARLS. I LOVE AND LIFE. 
 
 By the same Author. 
 
 UNKNOWN TO HISTORY: A Novel. Two Vols. Crowa 
 
 8vo. 9s. 
 
 BYE-WORDS : A Collection of Tales, New and Old. Crown 
 
 Svo. 6.S. 
 
 THE PRINCE AND THE PAGE : a Tale of the Last Crusade. 
 
 Illustrated. New Edition. Globe Svo. 4s. 6d. 
 
 LITTLE LUCY'S WONDERFUL GLOBE. With Twenty-four 
 
 Illustrations by Frolich. New Edition. Globe Svo. 4s. 6d. 
 
 A BOOK OF GOLDEN DEEDS. 18mo. 4s. 6d. Globe 
 
 Readings Edition for Schools. Globe Svo. 2s. Cheap Edition, Is. Illus- 
 trated Edition, 6s. 
 
 THE STORY OF THE CHRISTIANS AND THE MOORS 
 
 IN SPAIN. With a Vignette by Holman Hunt. ISmo. 4s. 6d. 
 
 A BOOK OF WORTHIES ; gathered from the Old Histories 
 
 and written Anew. ISmo. Cloth extra. 4s. 6d. 
 
 P'S AND Q'S; or, The Question of Putting Upon. With 
 
 Illustrations by C. O. Murray. Third Edition. Globe Svo. Cloth gilt. 4s. 6d. 
 
 PRIMER OF FRANCE. 18mo. Is. (Literature Primers). 
 
 HISTORY OF FRANCE. Maps. 18mo. 3s. 6d. 
 
 THE LANCES OF LYNWOOD. Illustrated. Second Edition. 
 
 Globe Svo. 4s. 6d. 
 
 THE LITTLE DUKE. Illustrated. New Edition. Globe 
 
 Svo. 4s. 6d. 
 
 A STOREHOUSE OF STORIES. Edited by. Two Vols. 
 
 Each 2s. 6d. 
 
 CAMEOS FROM ENGLISH HISTORY. Vol. I. — From 
 
 RoUo to Edward II. Extra fcp. Svo. 5s. Vol. II.— The Wars in France. 
 5s. Vol. III.— The Wars of the Roses. 5s. Vol. IV.— Retormation Times. 5s. 
 
 SCRIPTURE READINGS FOR SCHOOLS AND FAMILIES. 
 
 Globe Svo. Is. 6d. each ; also with Comments, 3s. 6d. each. First Series- 
 Genesis to Deuteronomy. Second Series— Joshua to Solomon. Third Series- 
 Kings and Prophets. Fourth Series— The Gospel Times. Fifth Series— Apos- 
 tolic Times. 
 
 HISTORY OF CHRISTIAN NAMES. Two Vols. Cheaper 
 
 Issue. Crown Svo. 12s. 
 
 THE LIFE OF JOHN COLERIDGE PATTESON, Missionary 
 
 Bishop. Fifth Edition. Two Vols. Crown Svo. 12s. 
 
 THE PUPILS OF ST. JOHN. Illustrated. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 PIONEERS AND FOUNDERS ; or, Recent Workers in the 
 
 Mission Field. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO., LONDON.
 
 NEW BOOKS AT MODERATE PRICES. 
 
 Now Publishing, uniform with this Booh 
 
 Price 4s. 6d. each Volume. 
 
 By the same Author. 
 
 UNKNOWTSr TO HISTOBY. By Charlotte M. Yonge, 
 
 Author of " The Heir of Redclyffe." 2 Vols. Crown 8vo. Price 9s. [Ready. 
 
 DR. GEORG EBERS' NEW NOVEL. 
 ONLY A WORD. By Dr. Georg Ebers, Author of " The 
 
 EgjT)tian Princess," "The Burgomaster's Wife," etc. Translated by Claba Bell. 
 Crown 8vo. Price 4s. 6d. [Ready. 
 
 THE BURGOMASTER'S WIFE. A Tale of the Siege 
 
 of Leyden. By Dr. Georg Ebers, Author of "The Egj-ptian Princess," etc. 
 Translated by Clara Bell. 1 Vol. Crown 8vo. Price 4s. 6d. [Ready. 
 
 J A NEW NOVEL BY AN AMERICAN WRITER. 
 
 MR. ISAACS : A Tale of Modern India. By F. Marion 
 
 Crawford. Crown Svo. Price 4s. 6d. [Ready. 
 
 DEMOCRACY : An American Novel. 1 Vol. Crown 8vo. 
 
 Price 4s. 6d. Popular Edition. Paper Covers, Is. [Ready. 
 
 A MEMOIR OP DANIEL MACMILLAN. By Thomas 
 
 Hughes, Q.C. With a Portrait engraved on Steel by C. H. Jeens, from a Painting 
 by Lowes Dickinson. Fourth Thousand. Crown Svo. Price 4s. 6d. [Ready. 
 
 A MEMOIR OF SIR CHARLES REED. By Charles E. 
 
 B. Reed, M.A. Cro^vn Svo. Price 4s. 6d. [77i the Press. 
 
 LECTURES ON ART. Delivered in support of the Society 
 
 for Protection of Ancient Buildings. By Regd. Stuart Poole, Professor W. B. 
 Richmond, E. J. Poynter, R.A., J. T. Micklethwaite, and William Morris. 
 
 1 Vol. Crown Svo. Price 4s. 6d. [Ready. 
 
 THE BURMAN ; His Life and Notions. By Shway Yoe. 
 
 2 Vols. Crown Svo. Price 9s. [Ready. 
 
 THE STORY OF MELICENT. By Fayr Madoc. Crown 
 
 Svo. Price 4s. 6d. [Ready. 
 
 THE EXPANSION OF ENGLAND. By Professor J. R. 
 
 Seeley, M.A. Crown Svo. Price 4s. 6d. [/)i the Press. 
 
 ESSAYS. By F. W. H. Myers. 2 Vols. 1. Classical 2. 
 
 Modern. Crown Svo. Price Os. [In the Press. 
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO., LONDON,