The two Princesses were at Chantilly, and rumours reached us that the younger lady was about to attempt something for the deliverance of he husband, and thereupon M. d’Aubepine became frantic to join them, and to share in their councils.  We tried to convince her that she could be of no use, but no—­suppose they were going to raise their vassals, she could do the same by those of d’Aubepine, and she, who had hitherto been the most timid and helpless of beings, now rose into strong resolution and even daring.  It was in vain that I represented to her that to raise one’s vassals to make war on the King was rank rebellion.  To her there was only one king—­the husband who deserved so little from her.  She had given him her whole devotion, soul and body, and was utterly incapable of seeing anything else.  And Madame Croquelebois, being equally devoted to M. le Comte, was thus more in her confidence than we were.  She told us at last with a thousand thanks that she had resolved on offering her services to the Princesses, and that she should send the children with Madame Croquelebois into Anjou; where she thought they would be safer than at Paris.  We were sorry, but there was a determination now in our little Cecile that made her quite an altered woman.  So she repaired to Montroud, where the younger Princess of Conde had retired, and was acting by the advice of M. Lenet, the Prince’s chief confidant.

The next thing we heard of her was astonishing enough.  The Princess, a delicate sickly woman, together with our little Countess, had left Montroud in the night with fifty horses.  The Princess rode on a pillion behind M. de Coligny, Cecile in the same way, and the little Duke of Enghien was on a little saddle in front of Vialas, his equerry.  On they went, day and night, avoiding towns and villages, and seldom halting except in the fields.  Happily it was the month of May, or those two delicate beings never could have lived through it, but Cecile afterwards told us that she had never felt so well in her life.

Near the town of Saint Cere they met the Dukes of Bouillon and La Rochefoucauld, with eight hundred men, mostly gentlemen, who were ready to take up their cause.  The Princess, hitherto so shy, gracefully and eagerly greeted and thanked them, and the little Duke made his little speech.  ’Indeed I am not afraid of Mazarin any more, since I see you here with so may brave men.  I only expect the liberty of my good papa through their valour and yours.’

There were great acclamations at this pretty little address, and then the boy rode with his mother through the eight squadrons in which the troop was drawn up, saluting the officers like a true little Prince, with his hat in his hand, while there were loud shouts of ’Vive le Roi!  Vivent les Prince!’ and such a yell of ‘Down with Mazarin!’ as made Cecile tremble.

She was expecting her own share in the matter all along, and presently she had the delight of seeing twenty more men coming with Croquelebois at their head, and by his side, on a little pony, her own little Maurice, the Chevalier d’Aubepine.  Was not Cecile a proud woman then?  I have a letter of hers in which she says (poor dear thing!) that he was a perfect little Prince Charmant; and he really was a pretty little fellow, and very well trained and good, adoring her as she deserved.