a fowl spitted on a pike was roasting
in the flames. We overwhelmed Pillot with thanks, and what he
considered more to the purpose--gave him a share of the bird. It was
rather tough and very stringy, but when one is hungry these defects
pass as trifles.

Before long our fire attracted general attention, and as many as could
crowded around it. Then, not wishing to be selfish, we vacated our
seats in favour of others, and, wrapped in our mantles, lay down in the
shelter of the hollow. This was our worst hardship, and at length we
reached Sedan, where Mazarin, who arrived the next day, took up his
abode with Marshal Fabert.

In the early part of the year 1652, we moved once more, and, crossing
the frontier, re-entered France in triumph. Every day now added to our
strength. We were joined by Marshal Hocquincourt, who commanded 5000
soldiers, each wearing the green scarf of the Cardinal. Here and there
a number of officers rode up decorated with the same colours; town
after town opened its gates at the first summons, and Mazarin might
well have imagined that his period of exile was over.

"Well, Pillot," said I one evening, "what do you think of all this?"

"It is a fresh act in a comedy, monsieur, in which the next is not yet
written."

"Not even thought out, perhaps."

"There is no thinking, monsieur, or the play would become a tragedy.
As to your Mazarin, he may be flying for his life again to-morrow."

"I hardly think so; he has the young King on his side now."

"Well, well, monsieur, it matters little as long as we enter Paris.
After all that is the chief thing."

I did not answer him, but my mind turned to the frightful misery of the
district through which we were passing. The country lay unfilled for
miles; the woods swarmed with robbers; the peasants were dying of
starvation; the towns were filled with people who had neither work nor
food. Everything except fighting was at a standstill: trade was dead,
manufactures had ceased, and no one cared to sow the seed when others
would eat the crops.

A young officer in Hocquincourt's army informed us that affairs were
equally bad in Paris. Rendered desperate by hunger, the citizens were
up in arms, and no one's life was safe for a day. By a stroke of good
fortune the Queen-Mother had escaped from the city, and was now with
the young King at Poitiers. Of Raoul I could learn nothing, but the
Duke of Orleans was still see-sawing; now helping Conde, and a