This climax, as usual, instantly decided Louis XIII, although as a necessary form he demanded the collective opinion of the Council; who, one and all, represented the retirement of the Cardinal from office as an expedient at once dangerous and impracticable.  The die was cast; and after a few vague and puerile expressions of regret at the necessity thus forced upon him of once more separating himself from his mother, Louis pronounced the banishment of Marie de Medicis from the Court, and then retired from the hall leaning upon the arm of Richelieu, who found little difficulty in convincing him of the expediency of taking his departure before his intention became known to the ill-fated Queen.[148]

This advice was peculiarly welcome to the cowardly King, who dreaded above all things the reproaches and tears of his widowed and outraged mother; and accordingly, on the 23rd of February, he was on foot at three in the morning; and had no sooner completed his toilet than he sent to desire the presence of the Jesuit Suffren, his confessor.

“When the Queen my mother shall have awoke,” he said hurriedly, “do not fail to inform her that I regret to take my departure without seeing her; and that in a few days I will acquaint her with my wishes.”

Such was his last greeting to the unhappy Princess, who had gone to rest without one suspicion that on the morrow she should find herself a prisoner, abandoned by her son, and bereft of her dearest friends; and meanwhile another scene was taking place in a distant wing of the palace, which has been so graphically described by Madame de Motteville that we shall transcribe it in her own words: 

“At daybreak some one knocked loudly at the door of the Queen’s chamber.  On hearing this noise, Anne of Austria, whom it had awakened, called her women, and inquired whether it was the King who demanded admittance, as he was the only individual who was entitled to take so great a liberty.  While giving this order she drew back the curtain of her bed, and perceiving with alarm that it was scarcely light, a vague sentiment of terror took possession of her mind.  As she was always doubtful, and with great reason, of the King’s feeling towards her, she persuaded herself that she was about to receive some fatal intelligence, and felt assured that the least evil which she had to apprehend was her exile from France.  Regarding this moment, therefore, as one which must decide the whole of her future destiny, she endeavoured to recall her self-possession in order to meet the blow with becoming courage ... and when the first shock of her terror had passed by, she determined to receive submissively whatever trial Heaven might see fit to inflict upon her.  She consequently commanded that the door of her apartment should be opened; and as her first femme de chambre announced that the person who demanded admittance was the Keeper of the Seals, who had been entrusted with a message to her Majesty from the King, she became convinced