For a week past the Duke of Orleans had been ill, or pretended to be; he refused to give any order.  When the prince began his movement, on the 2d of July, early, he sent to beg Mdlle. not to desert him.  “I ran to the Luxembourg,” she says, “and I found Monsieur at the top of the stairs.  ‘I thought I should find you in bed,’ said I; ’Count Fiesque told me that you didn’t feel well.’  He answered, ’I am not ill enough for that, but enough not to go out.’  I begged him to ride out to the aid of the prince, or, at any rate, to go to bed and assume to be ill; but I could get nothing from him.  I went so far as to say, ’Short of having a treaty with the court in your pocket, I cannot understand how you can take things so easily; but can you really have one to sacrifice the prince to Cardinal Mazarin?’ He made no reply:  all I said lasted quite an hour, during which every friend we had might have been killed, and the prince as well as another, without anybody’s caring; nay, there were people of Monsieur’s in high spirits, hoping that the prince would perish; they were friends of Cardinal de Retz.  At last Monsieur gave me a letter for the gentlemen of the Hotel, leaving it to me to tell them his intention.  I was there in a moment, assuring those present that, if ill luck would have it that the enemy should beat the prince, no more quarter would be shown to Paris than to the men who bore arms.  Marshal de l’Hopital, governor of Paris for the king, said to me, ’You are aware, Mdlle., that if your troops had not approached this city, those of the king would not have come thither, and that they only came to drive them away.’  Madame de Nemours did not like this, and began to argue the point.  I broke off their altercation.  ’Consider, sir, that, whilst time is being wasted in discussing useless matters, the prince is in danger in your faubourgs.’” She carried with her the aid of the Duke of Orleans’ troops, and immediately moved forwards, meeting everywhere on her road her friends wounded or dying.  “When I was near the gate, I went into the house of an exchequer-master (maitre des comptes).  As soon as I was there, the prince came thither to see me; he was in a pitiable state; he had two fingers’ breadth of dust on his face, and his hair all matted; his collar and his shirt were covered with blood, although he was not wounded; his breastplate was riddled all over; and he held his sword bare in his hand, having lost the scabbard.  He said to me, ’You see a man in despair; I have lost all my friends; MM. de Nemours, de la Rochefoucauld, and Clinchamps are wounded to death.’  I consoled him a little by telling him that they were in better case than he supposed.  Then I went off to the Bastille, where I made them load the cannon which was trained right upon the city; and I gave orders to fire as soon as I had gone.  I went thence to the Porte St. Antoine.  The soldiers shouted, ’Let us do something that will astonish them; our retreat is secure; here is