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Chapter
"The air was filled with the clatter of steel."
"The nobleman caught and fixed him."
"Keep this in remembrance of this day."
I Go to Paris.
"Let the boy go to Paris," exclaimed our guest, Roland Belloc. "I warrant he'll find a path that will lead him to fortune."
"He is young," said my father doubtfully.
"He will be killed," cried my mother, while I stood upright against the wall and looked at Roland gratefully.
Roland Belloc, who was the Cardinal's man, had been staying for a day or two in my father's company. He was a real soldier of fortune, strong as a bull, a fine swordsman, and afraid of no man living. He told us many startling tales of Paris.
According to him, everything in the city, from the throne to the gutter, was in a state of unrest: no man knew what an hour would bring forth. One day people feasted and sang and danced in feverish merriment: the next the barricades were up, and the denizens of the filthy courts and alleys, eager for pillage, swarmed into the light.
"Mazarin is like a wild boar," said he, "with a pack of hounds baying round him. There is the Duke of Orleans, the king's uncle, who snaps and runs away; Cond? is waiting to get a good bite; while the priest, De Retz, is the most mischievous of all."
"It is almost as bad as war," said my father.
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