“You are aware that I am the first Prince of the Blood.”

“I know, Monseigneur, the respect which is your due,” was the reply, “but I must obey the King.”

“I must see their Majesties,” persisted the Prince.

“It is impossible.  Come, sir, suffer me to conduct you to the apartment to which I have been directed to escort you.”

“How!” vehemently exclaimed Conde, looking round upon the nobles who were collected in the hall of which he had just reached the entrance, “is there no one here who has sufficient courage to spare me this outrage?  You, Monsieur,” he continued, addressing himself to Du Vair, “you at least I know to be a man of probity.  Did you counsel this violation of all the solemn promises which have been made to me?”

“I was not consulted upon the subject, Monseigneur,” replied the Keeper of the Seals; “nor shall it be my fault if so grievous an error be not speedily redeemed.  The more brief the folly the better the result.”

This imprudent retort was destined to seal the disgrace of the upright minister without serving the Prince, who, seeing that he had nothing to anticipate from any demonstration on the part of the assembled nobles, haughtily desired his captor to conduct him to his allotted prison.[252] “And when you have done so,” he added in a firm voice, as he swept the apartment with an eye as bright and as steady as though he had not stood there unarmed and a captive, “you may tell the Queen-mother that she has anticipated me only by three days, for had she waited beyond that time, the King would no longer have had a crown upon his head.” [253]

The Prince was then conducted by a back staircase to an upper chamber strongly barred, where he remained guarded by M. de Themines until he was conveyed to the Bastille.

The exultation of Marie de Medicis was at its height.  She embraced her son as fervently as though by the imprudence of which she had just been guilty she had ensured the security of his throne, and received the congratulations of the courtiers with undisguised delight.  “See, Sire,” she exclaimed, as with one hand resting upon the shoulder of the young King she advanced to the centre of the great hall, “here is our brave M. de Themines, to whom we are so greatly indebted.  Can you not offer him a royal recompense?  He is not yet a Marshal of France.”

“I salute you, M. le Marechal,” said Louis with regal gravity.  “In an hour I will sign your brevet.”

M. de Themines bowed low, and kissed the hand of the King.

“And I,” smiled Marie de Medicis, “present you with a hundred thousand crowns.  Your elder son the Marquis de Themines is henceforth captain of my bodyguard, and your younger the Baron de Lauziere equerry of Monsieur.”

Again the captor of M. de Conde bent low and uttered his acknowledgments.

Low murmurs were heard among the nobles.

“Advance, M. de Montigny,” continued Marie, turning graciously towards an individual who had only just reached the capital, having on his way provided the Duc de Vendome with a relay of horses in order to facilitate his escape.  “Sire, the Comte de Montigny was a faithful and devoted follower of your father.  You owe him also some mark of favour.”