These things, combined with the ascetic temperament of the king, had rendered the court of France a dismal one, and the royal salons formed a strong contrast to the brilliancy of those of Richelieu.  Now the king was gone, and there was a general feeling of relief among the nobles and ladies of the court.  It might be that stormy times were ahead, and indeed it was no secret that Conde, Beaufort, and many other nobles were already united against Mazarin.  They called themselves “The Importants,” a term well suited to their own idea of their power, and of the position they aspired to as the natural leaders of France.

“Madame de Chevreuse wishes you to be presented to her,” Colonel Maclvor said to Hector.  “Everyone knows her reputation; she is the cleverest woman in France, and one of the most intriguing.  She is the queen’s greatest friend, and has been her mainstay in her struggle with Richelieu.  Of one thing we may be sure, that she will not tamely see Mazarin step into his place, and she has, it is whispered, already thrown herself into the arms of ‘The Importants,’ and if anyone can persuade the queen to throw over the cardinal it is she.”

With a slight shrug of his shoulders Hector followed the colonel to a group of three or four ladies seated upon some fauteuils.

The colonel stopped before one of these, and bowing deeply said, “Duchess, I have the honour to present to you my compatriot, Colonel Campbell, who arrived here this morning with despatches from the Duc d’Enghien.”

Madame Chevreuse, like the queen, was still a beautiful woman.  She was petite, and possessed a face whose fascination few could withstand.  She was the most restless of intriguers, and was never so happy as when engaged in conspiracies which might cost her her estates and liberty.

“Why, Monsieur Campbell,” she said with a smile, “I had looked to see a fierce warrior, and, lo and behold I find one who, by his appearance, will be far more in his element at court than in the field.”

“Then appearances must greatly belie me, madame,” Hector said; “for while I may say that I am at home in a military camp, I feel sorely ill at ease here, and I feel I would rather face an enemy’s battery than so many beautiful faces.”

“That is not bad for a beginner,” the lady said with a smile, “but methinks you will soon get over that fear, for there is nothing very dangerous in any of us.  The Duchesse de Longueville,” and she motioned to the lady next to her, “is as desirous as myself that you should be presented to her, and that she should hear from your lips somewhat more of the doings of her brother than she has yet learned.”

Hector again bowed deeply.  The sister of Enghien was as ambitious for her brother’s sake as he was for his own self, and she was his potent ally in the troubles of the times.

“Enghien was wounded,” she said.  “Monsieur la Moussaie left the field directly the battle was won, and could tell me little about my brother’s injuries.”