The English Parliament had not, however, suffered her to leave their shores entirely destitute, but had voted the sum of three thousand pounds for her immediate expenses, pledging themselves, moreover, to supply twice that amount at given periods.[229] On her arrival in Holland Lord Arundel received her final commands, and returned to report her safe passage to her daughter Henriette; while she herself, attended only by a few attached followers, painfully pursued her way to Antwerp, where she resolved, despite the prohibition of the Government, to take up her temporary abode in the house of Rubens, and to remain in perfect seclusion.  The unfortunate and desolate Queen felt that she should not experience such utter isolation while she could hold communion with one true and loyal heart; and the past zeal of the artist-prince in her service convinced her that from him she should still receive a welcome.

How does destiny at times mock human greatness, and reverse all social rules!  Here was a sovereign Princess, the wife and the mother of kings, who, after eighteen weary years of struggle and suffering, was about to solicit a shelter for her gray hairs from the man whom, in 1622, she had invited to Paris, and upon whom she had lavished both riches and honour, in order that he might perpetuate with his brilliant pencil the short-lived triumphs of her regency.  Nor was she, in this instance, fated to disappointment, as her reception by the great painter was as earnest and as respectful as though she still swayed the destinies of France.

As Rubens knelt before her, and pressed her thin hand reverently to his lips, the eyes of Marie de Medicis brightened, and a faint colour rose to her wasted cheeks.  For a time she forgot all her sufferings; and they talked together of the proud period of her power, when she had laboured to embellish her beloved city of Paris, and summoned Rubens to the Luxembourg to execute the magnificent series of pictures which formed its noblest ornament; but this happy oblivion could not long endure, and scarcely an hour had elapsed ere they were engaged in concerting new measures to effect her recall to France.

For several weeks the presence of the Queen-mother in Antwerp was not suspected, and during that brief interval of comparative repose not a day passed in which the subject was not earnestly discussed; until at length Rubens, who was aware that the retreat of his royal guest must be ultimately discovered, resolved to undertake in person the mission of peace in which so many others had previously failed.

“Suffer me, Madame,” said the painter, “to proceed without delay to Paris charged with a letter from your Majesty to the King your son.  The pretext for my journey shall be my desire to execute a portrait of my friend, the Baron de Vicq, our Ambassador at the French Court; and as I do not doubt that his Christian Majesty will honour me with a summons to his presence, I will then deliver your despatch into his own hands.  The happy results of my former missions render me sanguine of success on this occasion; while I pledge myself that should I unfortunately fail in my attempt to awaken the affection of the King towards your Majesty, it shall be from no want of zeal or perseverance in your cause.”