arisians, stirred
up by various influential malecontents--one of the chief of whom is
the famous Jean de Gondy, Coadjutor of Paris, and afterwards Cardinal
de Retz--break out into open insurrection. Mazarine's life is menaced;
the queen-mother and the young king are virtually prisoners of the
Frondeurs. The Prince of Conde, with the laurels he has gained on the
battle-field of Lens yet fresh upon his brow, hurries to Paris to take
part against the Fronde; the queen and Mazarine are anxious to escape
from the capital in order to carry on the war in the open field
instead of in the narrow streets, fighting in which latter, or from
behind their barricades, the ill-disciplined troops of the insurgents
are nearly as efficient as the most practised veterans. How to manage
the escape is the difficulty. The gates of the city are guarded by
armed citizens; there appears no possibility of egress. In this
dilemma, Anne of Austria bethinks her of the man to whose address and
courage she had, twenty years previously, been so deeply indebted;
D'Artagnan is called in to her assistance. He succeeds in smuggling
the cardinal out of Paris, and then returns to fetch Louis XIV. and
the queen-mother.

Instead of re-entering Paris by the gate of St Honore, D'Artagnan, who
had time to spare, went round to that of Richelieu. The guard stopped
him, and when they saw by his plumed hat and laced cloak that he was
an officer of mousquetaires, they insisted upon his crying out, "Down
with Mazarine." This he did with so good a grace, and in so sonorous a
voice, that the most difficult were fully satisfied. He then walked
down the Rue Richelieu, reflecting how he should manage the escape of
the queen, for it would be impossible to take her away in one of the
royal carriages, with the arms of France painted upon it. On passing
before the hotel of Madame de Guemenee, who passed for the mistress of
Monsieur de Gondy, he perceived a coach standing at the door. A sudden
idea struck him.

"Pardieu!" said he, "it would be an excellent manoeuvre." And,
stepping up to the carriage, he examined the arms upon the panels,
and the livery of the coachman, who was sleeping on the box.

"It is the Coadjutor's carriage," said D'Artagnan to himself.
"Providence is decidedly in our favour."

He opened the door without noise, got into the coach, and pulled the
check-string.

"To the Palais Royal," cried he to the coachman.

The man, waking in a fright, made no d