I will go on with her story, though only at second hand, before I proceed with my own, which for a time took me from the scene of my friend’s troubles.  This is written for her grandchildren as much as my own and my sister’s, and it is well they should know what a woman she truly was, and how love gave her strength in her weakness.

The Prince of Conde, whose history and whose troubles were only too like her own, already loved her extremely, and welcomed her little son as a companion to the Duke of Enghien.  The Duke of Bouillon took them to his own fortress-town of Turenne, where they remained, while the little bourg of Brive la Gaillarde was taken from the royal troops by the Dukes.  The regiment sent by the Cardinal to occupy the place was Prince Thomas of Savoy’s gendarmes, and as of course they loved such generals as Turenne and Conde better than any one else, the loyalty of most of them gave way, and they joined the Princess’s little army.

The Duke of Bouillon entertained his guests splendidly, though his poor Duchess was absent in the Bastille.  The ladies had to dine every day in the great hall with all the officers, and it was a regular banquet, always beginning and ending with Conde’s health.  Great German goblets were served out to everybody, servants and all, and the Duke of Bouillon began by unsheathing his sword, and taking off his hat, while he vowed to die in the service of the Princes, and never to return his sword to the scabbard—­in metaphor, I suppose—­ till it was over.  Everybody shouted in unison, waved the sword, flourished the hat, and then drank, sometimes standing, sometimes on their knees.  The two little boys, with their tiny swords, were delighted to do the same, though their mothers took care that there should be more water than wine in their great goblets.

I afterwards asked Cecile, who was wont to shudder at the very sight of a sword, how she endured all these naked weapons flourishing round her.  ‘Oh,’ she said, ’did not I see my husband’s liberty through them?’

The ladies were then escorted, partly on horseback, partly by boat, to Limeuil, and that same day their Dukes gained a victory over the royal troops, and captured all their baggage, treasure, and plate, so that Cecile actually heard the sounds of battle, and her husband might say, as the Prince did at Vincennes:  ’A fine state of things that my wife should be leading armies while I am watering pinks.’

The wives had their pinks too, for the whole road to Bordeaux was scattered with flowers, and every one trooped out to bless the Princess and her son.  As she entered the city the 400 vessels in the port fired all their guns three times over, and 30,000 men, escorting a splendid carriage, in which she went along at a foot’s pace, came forth to welcome her.  Her son was dressed in white taffety turned up with black and white feathers.  He was held in a gentleman’s arms at the window, and continually bowed, and held out his little hands to be kissed, saying that his father and grandfather had been quite right to love people who had such an affection for their house as these seemed to have.  Maurice d’Aubepine, at the opposite window, was nodding away with a good-will at the people who were obliged to put up with him instead of the little Duke.