“You love the Queen.  Is it not possible for you to make your friends love her?”

“How can that be?” said she; “the Queen is no more a Queen, but a humble servant to M. le Prince.”

“Good God!” replied the Cardinal; “we might do great things if we could get some men into our interest.  But M. de Beaufort is at the service of Madame de Montbazon, and she is devoted to Vigneul and the Coadjutor; " at the mention of which he smiled.  “I take you, monsieur,” said Madame de Chevreuse; “I will answer for him and for her.”

Thus the conversation began, and the Cardinal making a sign to the Queen, Madame de Chevreuse had a long conference that night with her Majesty, who gave her this billet for me, written and signed with her own hand: 

Notwithstanding what has passed and what is now doing, I cannot but persuade myself that M. le Coadjuteur is in my interest.  I desire to see him, and that nobody may know it but Madame and Mademoiselle de Chevreuse.  This name shall be your security.  Anne

Being convinced that the Queen was downright angry with the Prince de Conde on account of a rumour spread abroad that he had some intriguing gallantries with her Majesty, I weighed all circumstances and returned the answer to the Queen: 

Never was there one moment of my life wherein I was not devoted to your Majesty.  I am so far from consulting my own safety that I would gladly die for your service . . .  I will go to any place your Majesty shall order me.

My answer, with the Queen’s letter enclosed, was carried back by Madame de Chevreuse and well received.  I went immediately to Court, and was taken up the back staircase by the Queen’s train-bearer to the petit oratoire, where her Majesty was shut up all alone.  She showed me as much kindness as she could, considering her hatred against M. le Prince and her friendship for the Cardinal, though the latter seemed the more to prevail, because in speaking of the civil wars and of the Cardinal’s friendship for me she called him “the poor Cardinal” twenty times over.  Half an hour after, the Cardinal came in, who begged the Queen to dispense with the respect he owed her Majesty while he embraced me in her presence.  He was pleased to say he was very sorry that he could not give me that very moment his own cardinal’s cap.  He talked so much of favours, gratifications, and rewards that I was obliged to explain myself, knowing that nothing is more destructive of new reconciliations than a seeming unwillingness to be obliged to those to whom you are reconciled.  I answered that the greatest recompense I could expect, though I had saved the Crown, was to have the honour of serving her Majesty, and I humbly prayed the Queen to give me no other recompense, that at least I might have the satisfaction to make her Majesty sensible that this was the only reward I valued.