mart answer. M. de Guise,
who had joined the Count, and was a well-wisher to a rupture, went to
Liege to order the levies, Varicarville and I returned to Paris, but I
did not care to tell my fellow conspirators of the irresolution of our
principal. Some symptoms of it appeared afterwards, but they very soon
vanished.
Being assured that the Spaniards had everything in readiness, I went for
the last time to Sedan to take my final instructions. There I found
Meternic, colonel of one of the oldest regiments of the Empire,
despatched by General Lamboy, who had advanced with a gallant army under
his command, composed for the most part of veteran troops. The Colonel
assured the Count that he was ordered to obey his commands in everything,
and to give battle to the Marechal de Chatillon, who commanded the army
of France upon the Meuse. As the undertaking at Paris depended entirely
on the success of such a battle, the Count thought it fitting that I
should go along with Meternic to Givet, where I found the army in a very
good condition. Then I returned to Paris, and gave an account of every
particular to the Marechal de Pitri, who drew up the order for the
enterprise. The whole city of Paris seemed so disposed for an
insurrection that we thought ourselves sure of success. The secret was
kept even to a miracle. The Count gave the enemy battle and won it. You
now believe, without doubt, the day was our own. Far from it; for the
Count was killed in the very crisis of the victory, and in the midst of
his own men; but how and by whom no soul could ever tell.
You may guess what a condition I was in when I heard this news; M. de
Cremail, the wisest of us all, thought of nothing else now but how to
conceal the secret, which, though known to only six in all Paris, was
known to too great a number; but the greatest danger of discovery was
from the people of Sedan, who, being out of the kingdom, were not afraid
of punishment. Nevertheless, everybody privy to it religiously kept it
secret, and stood their ground, which, with another accident I shall
mention hereafter, has made me often think, and say too, that secrecy is
not so rare a thing as we imagine with men versed in matters of State.
The Count's death settled me in my profession, for I saw no great things
to be done, and I found myself too old to leave it for anything trifling.
Besides, Cardinal de Richelieu's health was declining, and I already
began to think myself Archbishop o
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