“Nor did I limit the sacred duties of my mission here,” pursued the Regent; “I had work to do without as well as within the kingdom; and it has not been neglected.  I undertook and accomplished a successful negotiation for the marriage of the King my son with the Infanta of Spain; our ancient rival England has become our ally; Germany has learnt to fear us; and the Princes of Italy have bowed their heads before our triumphant banners.  Have I not then, gentlemen, consulted in all things the honour of France, and increased her power?  Have I not compelled respect where I have failed to secure amity?  Can you point to one act of my authority by which the interests of the nation have been compromised, or her character tarnished in the eyes of foreign states?  I boldly await your answer.  Thus much for our external relations, and now I appeal to your justice; I ask you with equal confidence if, when within the kingdom faction after faction was detected and suppressed, I yielded to any sentiment of undue vengeance?  Has not every outbreak of unprovoked disaffection rather tended to exhibit the forbearance of the King my son and my own?  Need I recall the concessions which we have made to those who had sought to injure us?  Need I ask you to remember that we have bestowed upon them governments, titles, riches, high offices of state, and every honour which it was in our power to confer?  What more then could you require or demand, gentlemen?  And yet, when the King my son has pardoned where he might have punished, you have responded by seditious shouts, by wilful disrespect, and even by attempts against his royal person!  It was time for him to exert his prerogative, gentlemen,—­you have compelled him to assert his power, and yet you murmur!  Now, with God’s help, we may hope for internal peace.  France must have lost her place among the European nations had she been longer permitted to prey upon her own vitals.  One individual alone could have condemned her to this self-slaughter, and we have delivered her from the peril by committing that individual to the Bastille.”

As the Queen-mother uttered these words her voice was drowned in the universal burst of fury and violence which assailed her on all sides; nobles, citizens, and people alike yelled forth their discontent, but the unquenchable spirit of Marie de Medicis did not fail her even at this terrible moment.  Rising with the emergency, she seemed rather to ride upon the storm than to quail beneath it; her eyes flashed fire, a red spot burned upon her cheek, and scorn and indignation might be read upon every feature of her expressive countenance.  When the tumult was at its height she rose haughtily from her seat, and striking her clenched hand violently upon the table before her, she exclaimed in a tone of menace:  “How now, Counts and Barons!  Is it then a perpetual revolt upon which you have determined?  When pardon and peace are frankly offered to you, and when both should be as welcome to all good Frenchmen