the parliament of Paris, which
was now bitterly opposed to Mazarin, had refused to register some of
his decrees, and had even forced him to dismiss his superintendent of
finance, an Italian named Emeri. The latter had imposed taxes at his
will to satisfy his extravagance and avarice, had raised the octroi
duty, made the sale of firewood a monopoly, and in various ways had
incurred the indignation and hatred of the Parisians.

Mazarin's own greed had been in no slight degree the cause of his
unpopularity; he who had come to France a penniless priest was now the
owner of great estates. It was even said that much of the money that
should have been devoted to the needs of the army had been privately
sent into Italy by him, and throughout the country it was felt to be
scandalous that while the deepest distress was universal on account of
the weight of taxation, these two Italians should be piling up wealth
for themselves. But, avaricious as he was, the cardinal was lavish
in his expenditure among his friends and adherents; honours, titles,
dignities, and estates were freely bestowed upon them, and he did not
hesitate to pay any sum that would gain him the support of those whose
aid he deemed to be essential. Madame de Chevreuse was again at court,
and was, as she had always been, the centre of the intrigues that were
going on. One evening she made a sign for Hector to take a place by her
side. She had taken a fancy to the young Scottish colonel on the evening
when he had been first introduced to her, and was always gracious to him
now.

"Monsieur le baron," she said in a low tone, "do you think that the air
of Paris agrees with you as well as that of the army?"

He felt from the manner in which she spoke, that she meant more than she
said.

"So far, madam, it has not disagreed with me," he said; "and even did
it do so I should not be able to leave it, as I have orders to remain
here."

"By the way, monsieur," she said, changing the subject of conversation,
"it is whispered that that party of pleasure to which you took the
officers of your regiment at St. Germain did not come off, at least none
of the landlords of the hotels there can recall any such gathering, and
it is even said that your falling in with the carriage of the Duke of
Orleans was not altogether an accident. I only mention the reports; of
course, it was a matter of no moment whether your party dined at St.
Germain or at Sevres. But sometimes misapprehensi