So it was in seeming,—­so it was not in reality.  Something had been done.  That assembly planted ideas in the French mind which struck more and more deeply, and spread more and more widely, until, after a century and a half, the Third Estate met again and refused to present petitions kneeling,—­and when king and nobles put on their hats, the commons put on theirs,—­and when that old brilliant stroke was again made, and the hall was closed and filled with busy carpenters and upholsterers, the deputies of the people swore that great tennis-court oath which blasted French tyranny.

But something great was done immediately; to that suffering nation a great man was revealed.  For, when the clergy pressed their requests, they chose as their orator a young man only twenty-nine years of age, the Bishop of Lucon, ARMAND JEAN DU PLESSIS DE RICHELIEU.

He spoke well.  His thoughts were clear, his words pointed, his bearing firm.  He had been bred a soldier, and so had strengthened his will; afterwards he had been made a scholar, and so had strengthened his mind.  He grappled with the problems given him in that stormy assembly with such force that he seemed about to do something; but just then came that day of the Court ball, and Richelieu turned away like the rest.

But men had seen him and heard him.  Forget him they could not.  From that tremendous farce, then, France had gained directly one thing at least, and that was a sight at Richelieu.

The year after the States-General wore away in the old vile fashion.  Conde revolted again, and this time he managed to scare the Protestants into revolt with him.  The daring of the nobles was greater than ever.  They even attacked the young King’s train as he journeyed to Bordeaux, and another compromise had to be wearily built in the Treaty of Loudun.  By this Conde was again bought off,—­but this time only by a bribe of a million and a half of livres.  The other nobles were also paid enormously, and, on making a reckoning, it was found that this compromise had cost the King four millions, and the country twenty millions.  The nation had also to give into the hands of the nobles some of its richest cities and strongest fortresses.

Immediately after this compromise, Conde returned to Paris, loud, strong, jubilant, defiant, bearing himself like a king.  Soon he and his revolted again; but just at that moment Concini happened to remember Richelieu.  The young bishop was called and set at work.

Richelieu grasped the rebellion at once.  In broad daylight he seized Conde and shut him up in the Bastille; other noble leaders he declared guilty of treason, and degraded them; he set forth the crimes and follies of the nobles in a manifesto which stung their cause to death in a moment; he published his policy in a proclamation which ran through France like fire, warming all hearts of patriots, withering all hearts of rebels; he sent out three great armies:  one northward to grasp Picardy, one eastward to grasp Champagne, one southward to grasp Berri.  There is a man who can do something!  The nobles yield in a moment:  they must yield.