The Parliament, in a rage, put forth a decree, declaring the Cardinal an enemy to the State, and ordering him to leave the Court and kingdom on that very day, calling on all loyal subjects to fall on him, and forbidding any one to give him shelter.

We heard loud acclamations, which made us think something unusual was going on, and it was the publication of this precious edict.  I wondered who they thought was going to attend to it when M. Darpent brought in a copy.  And my mother began to cry and talk about Lord Strafford.  I had to think of Eustace and bite my tongue to keep my patience at our noble ‘thorough’ Wentworth being likened to that base cringing Italian.

Clement Darpent said, however, that every one had passed it by acclamation, except Bernai, who was a mere cook, and gave fine dinners to such a set of low, loose creatures that he was called ’le cabaretier de la cour.’  Moreover, they proceeded to give orders for levying 4000 horse and 10,000 foot.  This really did mean civil war.

‘I knew it,’ said my mother, ’it is the next step after denouncing the King’s minister.  We shall see you next armed cap-a-pie, like our young advocates at home, all for the King’s behalf, according to them.’

Of course she was thinking of Harry Merrycourt, but she was surprised by the answer.

’No, Madam, nothing shall induce me to bear arms against the King.  So much have I learned from the two living persons who I esteem the most.’

‘And they are?’ asked my lady.

‘My mother and monsieur votre fils,’ he replied.

And I could not help crying out—–­

’Oh, sir, you are right.  I know that Harry Merrycourt feels now that nothing can justify rebellion, and that he little knew whither he should be led.’

‘And yet,’ said he, clasping his hands together with intensity of fervour, ’when all is rotten to the core, venal, unjust, tyrannical, how endure without an endeavour at a remedy?  Yet it may be that an imposing attitude will prevail!  Self-defence without a blow.’

It seemed as if such war as they were likely to wage could do no one much damage, for they actually chose as their generalissimo that ridiculous little sickly being, the Prince de Conty, who had quarrelled with the Court about a cardinal’s hat, and had run away from his mother’s apron string at St. Germain to his sister’s at Paris.

On recalling it, all was a mere farce together, and the people were always stringing together lampoons in rhyme, and singing them in the streets.  One still rings in my head, about a dissolute impoverished Marquis d’Elbeuf, one of the house of Lorraine, whom the prospect of pay induced to offer his services to the Parliament.

’Le pauvre Monseigneur d’Elbeuf,
Qui n’avait aucun ressource,
Et qui ne mangeait que du boeuf. 
Le pauvre Monseigneur d’Elbeuf,
A maintenant un habit neuf
Et quelques justes dans sa bourse. 
Le pauvre Monseigneur d’Elbeuf,
Qui n’avait aucun ressource.’