Upon one point Louis XIII greatly resembled his mother; with all his arrogance and love of power, he possessed no innate strength of purpose, and constantly required extraneous support; but it was already easy for those about him to perceive that fear alone continued to link him with the once all-powerful favourite.  Rumour said, moreover, that superadded to the jealousy which the King entertained of the daily increasing assumption of the Connetable there existed another cause of discontent.  The Duchesse de Luynes was, as we have said, both beautiful and fascinating, and Louis had not been proof against her attractions, although his ideas of gallantry never overstepped the bounds of the most scrupulous propriety.  The lady had on her part welcomed his homage with more warmth than discretion, and the favourite had not failed to reproach her for a levity by which he considered himself dishonoured.  Madame de Luynes had retorted in no measured terms, and the young sovereign, who detested finding himself involved in affairs of this nature, and who had, moreover, reason to believe that he was not the only individual favoured by the smiles of the coquettish beauty, soon evinced an aversion towards both husband and wife, which encouraged the enemies of De Luynes to hint that the reverse which his Majesty had lately suffered at Montauban might be entirely attributed to the incapacity and selfishness of the Connetable.  This opinion soothed the wounded vanity of the King, and he talked vehemently of his regret for the brave men who had fallen, among whom was the Duc de Mayenne, and bitterly complained of the dishonour to which he had been subjected; while in order to revenge himself at once upon De Luynes and the Duchess, he condescended to the meanness of informing the former that the Prince de Joinville was enamoured of his wife, and subsequently boasted to Bassompierre that he had done so.  The Marquis listened in astonishment to this extraordinary communication, and in reply ventured to assure his Majesty that he had committed a serious error in seeking to cause a misunderstanding between a married couple.

“God will forgive me for it should He see fit to do so,” was the sullen retort of Louis.  “At all events it gave me great pleasure to be revenged on him, and to cause him this annoyance; and before six months have elapsed I will make him disgorge all his gains.” [64]

The rumour of his projected disgrace soon reached the ears of the bewildered favourite, who instantly resolved to redeem himself by some more successful achievement.  He accordingly ordered the troops to march upon and besiege Monheur, an insignificant town on the Garonne, which was feebly garrisoned by two hundred and sixty men, and which was in consequence sure to fall into his hands.  As he had foreseen, the place soon capitulated, but the late reverse had rendered Louis less accessible than ever to the claims of mercy; and although by the terms of the treaty