ory, especially to
those parts relating to the plot against Conde and my cousin's death.

"I am sorry for Henri," he said, "he was a bit of a rascal, but a brave
fellow for all that, and he stood by the Abbe from the beginning.
However, things have altered now, and before six months have passed
Mazarin will be in Paris again. Conde will make a stiff fight, but we
are bound to win, and if you live your fortune is made."

"Unless Mazarin suffers from a lapse of memory," I remarked. "So far
his payments have been made mostly in promises, which do little towards
keeping a full purse."

At this M. Belloc laughed, but he assured me that when the day of
reckoning came I should have no cause to complain.

CHAPTER XXV.

I Miss a Grand Opportunity.

For several weeks now I stayed idly at Bruhl, having nothing to do
beyond an occasional turn of duty, which was really more a matter of
form than of aught else.

Underneath the peaceful surface there were, to shrewd observers, signs
of a stirring agitation. Couriers came and went by night and day;
noblemen of high rank made mysterious visits, stayed a few hours, and
then disappeared; a rumour arose that the Cardinal had actually been
recalled to Court. It was even said that the order was contained in
the letter I had carried from Paris, but on that point I was still in
ignorance. By degrees, however, it became plain that the Cardinal had
resolved to return and I learned from Belloc that Marshal Hocquincourt
was busy raising an army to conduct him across France.

No one was more pleased to receive this news than Pillot, who could not
live happily without excitement. He uttered no complaint, but I knew
he was longing to be back in his loved Paris, from which he had never
before been so long absent. To Pillot the walls of the capital bounded
the one oasis in a desert world.

One evening, early in December, Belloc ordered me to be ready for a
start the next morning. The die was cast; Mazarin had made up his
mind, and I was to form one of the advance-guard in the journey to
Sedan.

"Bravo!" cried Pillot, joyfully; "it is time we moved, monsieur. I am
beginning to forget what Paris is like."

During the evening he was in a state of excitement, polishing my
weapons and setting them in order, running to the stables to attend to
the animals, and packing food for consumption on the march. As for
sleeping, I am nearly sure that he did not close his eyes all night.