At the end of a week after our great adventure I went to the country, and within a fortnight returned to find that my place in the Wardrobe was taken by another, and my place in the king’s smile by the world at large; at least, it was lost to me.

When a wise courtier loses his king’s smile, he takes himself out of his king’s reach.  Therefore I cast about in my mind for a London friend who would like to possess my title.  I thought of Sir William Wentworth, rather of his wife, and suggested to her that for the sum of thirty thousand pounds I would resign my estates and title to the king, if Sir William would arrange for their transfer to himself.  The transfer directly from me to him was not within the limits of the law.  It could only be made through the king by forfeiture and grant.  But the like had happened many times before, and could be accomplished now if the king were compensated for his trouble.

Wentworth broached the subject to our august sovereign who, in consideration of the sum of ten thousand pounds “lent” by Sir William to his Majesty, and because he was glad to conciliate a prominent citizen of London, that city being very angry on account of the sale of Dunkirk, agreed to the transfer, and the baronetcy of Clyde with the appurtenant estates passed to the house of Wentworth, where, probably, they brought trouble to Sir William and joyous discontent to his aspiring lady.

Aside from the fact that I knew the king’s ill temper was cumulative, I had received a hint, coming through Castlemain’s maid to Rochester, that if I remained in England, the king would despoil me.  Then, too, I had other reasons for making the sale.  I was sick of England’s fawning on a poor weak creature, as cowardly as he was dull, and almost as dull as he was vicious, and longed to flee to the despotism of strength as I should find it in France under Louis XIV.  There was still another reason, of which I shall speak later.

Three days after the consummation of my sale to Sir William Wentworth, Count Hamilton returned, and, learning of the manner in which I had disgraced myself, withdrew his challenge, sending De Grammont to tell me the sad news.  He would not honor me by killing me.

“Why did you sell your title and estates?” asked De Grammont.

“I have several good reasons, my dear count,” I answered.  “The first is that I should have lost them had I not sold them.  While the king does not know that I was connected with the fight on the privy stairs, he doubtless suspected it, for I have lived in the royal frown ever since.  The second reason is that I hate Charles Stuart, and, admiring at least the strength of your king’s tyranny, desire to live in France.  King Louis says he is the state, and by heaven, he is!  Charles Stuart knows that he is nothing, and he is right!”

“Give me your hand, baron!” cried De Grammont, a smile of satisfaction spreading over his face.  “I now tell you my secret.  No one else knows it.  The purchase of Dunkirk has bought for me the smile of my master.  I have been recalled to Versailles.  I return to La Belle France within a fortnight!  Come with me!  I’ll show you a king in very deed, and promise furthermore that his smile shall be for you!”