“True enough,” said the Bishop; “nevertheless you ought to esteem him; you have no reason to complain of him, because those men whom you mean were all his true friends before they became your enemies.”

“If it be so,” replied the Cardinal, “then I am very much misinformed.”

The Bishop at this juncture did me all the kind offices imaginable, and if the Cardinal had lived he would undoubtedly have restored me to his favour; for his Eminence was very well disposed, especially when the Bishop assured him that, though I knew myself ruined at Court to all intents and purposes, yet I would never come into the measures of M. le Grand.—­[M. de Cinq-Mars, Henri Coeffier, otherwise called Ruze d’Effial, Master of the Horse of France; he was beheaded September 12, 1642.]—­I was indeed importuned by my friend M. de Thou to join in that enterprise, but I saw the weakness of their foundation, as the event has shown, and therefore rejected their proposals.

The Cardinal de Richelieu died in 1642, before the good Bishop had made my peace with him, and so I remained among those who had rendered themselves obnoxious to the Ministry.  At first this character was very prejudicial to my interest.  Although the King was overjoyed at his death, yet he carefully observed all the appearances of respect for his deceased minister, confirmed all his legacies, cared for his family, kept all his creatures in the Ministry, and affected to frown upon all who had not stood well with the Cardinal; but I was the only exception to this general rule.  When the Archbishop of Paris presented me to the King, I was treated with such distinguishing marks of royal favour as surprised all the Court.  His Majesty talked of my studies and sermons, rallied me with an obliging freedom, and bade me come to Court once every week.  The reasons of these extraordinary civilities were utterly unknown to us until the night before his death, when he told them to the Queen.  I passed them by in silence before as having no bearing on my history, but I am obliged to insert them here because they have been, in their consequences, more fortunate than I seemed to have any just claim to expect.

A short time after I left the college, my governor’s valet de chambre found, at a poor pin-maker’s house, a niece of hers but fourteen years old, who was surprisingly beautiful.  After I had seen her he bought her for me for 150 pistoles, hired a little house for her, and placed her sister with her; when I went to see her I found her in great heaviness of mind, which I attributed to her modesty.  I next day found what was yet more surprising and extraordinary than her beauty; she talked wisely and religiously to me, and yet without passion.  She cried only when she could not help it.  She feared her aunt to a degree that made me pity her.  I admired her wit first, and then her virtue, for trial of which I pressed her as far as was necessary, until I was even ashamed of myself.  I waited till night