the duc d’alencon makes his escape from court.—queen marguerite’s fidelity put to a severe trial.

it was now three o’clock in the afternoon, and no one present had yet dined. the queen my mother was desirous that we should eat together, and, after dinner, she ordered my brother and me to change our dress (as the clothes we had on were suitable only to our late melancholy situation) and come to the king’s supper and ball. we complied with her orders as far as a change of dress, but our countenances still retained the impressions of grief and resentment which we inwardly felt.

i must inform you that when the tragi-comedy i have given you an account of was over, the queen my mother turned round to the chevalier de seurre, whom she recommended to my brother to sleep in his bedchamber, and in whose conversation she sometimes took delight because he was a man of some humour, but rather inclined to be cynical.

“well,” said she, “m. de seurre, what do you think of all this?”

“madame, i think there is too much of it for earnest, and not enough for jest.”

then addressing himself to me, he said, but not loud enough for the queen to hear him: “i do not believe all is over yet; i am very much mistaken if this young man” (meaning my brother) “rests satisfied with this.” this day having passed in the manner before related, the wound being only skinned over and far from healed, the young men about the king’s person set themselves to operate in order to break it out afresh.

these persons, judging of my brother by themselves, and not having sufficient experience to know the power of duty over the minds of personages of exalted rank and high birth, persuaded the king, still connecting his case with their own, that it was impossible my brother should ever forgive the affront he had received, and not seek to avenge himself with the first opportunity. the king, forgetting the ill-judged steps these young men had so lately induced him to take, hereupon receives this new impression, and gives orders to the officers of the guard to keep strict watch at the gates that his brother go not out, and that his people be made to leave the louvre every evening, except such of them as usually slept in his bedchamber or wardrobe.

my brother, seeing himself thus exposed to the caprices of these headstrong young fellows, who led the king according to their own fancies, and fearing something worse might happen than what he had yet experienced, at the end of three days, during which time he laboured under apprehensions of this kind, came to a determination to leave the court, and never more return to it, but retire to his principality and make preparations with all haste for his expedition to flanders. he communicated his design to me, and i approved of it, as i considered he had no other view in it than providing for his own safety, and that neither the king nor his government were likely to sustain any injury by it.

when we consulted upon the means of its accomplishment, we could find no other than his descending from my window, which was on the second story and opened to the ditch, for the gates were so closely watched that it was impossible to pass them, the face of every one going out of the louvre being curiously examined. he begged of me, therefore, to procure for him a rope of sufficient strength and long enough for the purpose. this i set about immediately, for, having the sacking of a bed that wanted mending, i sent it out of the palace by a lad whom i could trust, with orders to bring it back repaired, and to wrap up the proper length of rope inside.

when all was prepared, one evening, at supper-time, i went to the queen my mother, who supped alone in her own apartment, it being fast-day and the king eating no supper. my brother, who on most occasions was patient and discreet, spurred on by the indignities he had received, and anxious to extricate himself from danger and regain his liberty, came to me as i was rising from table, and whispered to me to make haste and come to him in my own apartment. m. de matignon, at that time a marshal, a sly, cunning norman, and one who had no love for my brother, whether he had some knowledge of his design from some one who could not keep a secret, or only guessed at it, observed to the queen my mother as she left the room (which i overheard, being near her, and circumspectly watching every word and motion, as may well be imagined, situated as i was betwixt fear and hope, and involved in perplexity) that my brother had undoubtedly an intention of withdrawing himself, and would not be there the next day; adding that he was assured of it, and she might take her measures accordingly.

i observed that she was much disconcerted by this observation, and i had my fears lest we should be discovered. when we came into her closet, she drew me aside and asked if i heard what matignon had said.

i replied: “i did not hear it, madame, but i observe that it has given you uneasiness.”

“yes,” said she, “a great deal of uneasiness, for you know i have pledged myself to the king that your brother shall not depart hence, and matignon has declared that he knows very well he will not be here to-morrow.”

i now found myself under a great embarrassment; i was in danger either of proving unfaithful to my brother, and thereby bringing his life into jeopardy, or of being obliged to declare that to be truth which i knew to be false, and this i would have died rather than be guilty of.

in this extremity, if i had not been aided by god, my countenance, without speaking, would plainly have discovered what i wished to conceal. but god, who assists those who mean well, and whose divine goodness was discoverable in my brother’s escape, enabled me to compose my looks and suggested to me such a reply as gave her to understand no more than i wished her to know, and cleared my conscience from making any declaration contrary to the truth. i answered her in these words:

“you cannot, madame, but be sensible that m. de matignon is not one of my brother’s friends, and that he is, besides, a busy, meddling kind of man, who is sorry to find a reconciliation has taken place with us; and, as to my brother, i will answer for him with my life in case he goes hence, of which, if he had any design, i should, as i am well assured, not be ignorant, he never having yet concealed anything he meant to do from me.”

all this was said by me with the assurance that, after my brother’s escape, they would not dare to do me any injury; and in case of the worst, and when we should be discovered, i had much rather pledge my life than hazard my soul by a false declaration, and endanger my brother’s life. without scrutinising the import of my speech, she replied: “remember what you now say,—you will be bound for him on the penalty of your life.”

i smiled and answered that such was my intention. then, wishing her a good night, i retired to my own bedchamber, where, undressing myself in haste and getting into bed, in order to dismiss the ladies and maids of honour, and there then remaining only my chamber-women, my brother came in, accompanied by simier and cange. rising from my bed, we made the cord fast, and having looked out, at the window to discover if any one was in the ditch, with the assistance of three of my women, who slept in my room, and the lad who had brought in the rope, we let down my brother, who laughed and joked upon the occasion without the least apprehension, notwithstanding the height was considerable. we next lowered simier into the ditch, who was in such a fright that he had scarcely strength to hold the rope fast; and lastly descended my brother’s valet de chambre, cange.

through god’s providence my brother got off undiscovered, and going to ste. genevieve, he found bussi waiting there for him. by consent of the abbot, a hole had been made in the city wall, through which they passed, and horses being provided and in waiting, they mounted, and reached angers without the least accident.

whilst we were lowering down cange, who, as i mentioned before, was the last, we observed a man rising out of the ditch, who ran towards the lodge adjoining to the tennis-court, in the direct way leading to the guard-house. i had no apprehensions on my own account, all my fears being absorbed by those i entertained for my brother; and now i was almost dead with alarm, supposing this might be a spy placed there by m. de matignon, and that my brother would be taken. whilst i was in this cruel state of anxiety, which can be judged of only by those who have experienced a similar situation, my women took a precaution for my safety and their own, which did not suggest itself to me. this was to burn the rope, that it might not appear to our conviction in case the man in question had been placed there to watch us. this rope occasioned so great a flame in burning, that it set fire to the chimney, which, being seen from without, alarmed the guard, who ran to us, knocking violently at the door, calling for it to be opened.

i now concluded that my brother was stopped, and that we were both undone. however, as, by the blessing of god and through his divine mercy alone, i have, amidst every danger with which i have been repeatedly surrounded, constantly preserved a presence of mind which directed what was best to be done, and observing that the rope was not more than half consumed, i told my women to go to the door, and speaking softly, as if i was asleep, to ask the men what they wanted. they did so, and the archers replied that the chimney was on fire, and they came to extinguish it. my women answered it was of no consequence, and they could put it out themselves, begging them not to awake me. this alarm thus passed off quietly, and they went away; but, in two hours afterward, m. de cosse came for me to go to the king and the queen, my mother, to give an account of my brother’s escape, of which they had received intelligence by the abbot of ste. genevieve.

it seems it had been concerted betwixt my brother and the abbot, in order to prevent the latter from falling under disgrace, that, when my brother might be supposed to have reached a sufficient distance, the abbot should go to court, and say that he had been put into confinement whilst the hole was being made, and that he came to inform the king as soon as he had released himself.

i was in bed, for it was yet night; and rising hastily, i put on my night-clothes. one of my women was indiscreet enough to hold me round the waist, and exclaim aloud, shedding a flood of tears, that she should never see me more. m. de cosse, pushing her away, said to me: “if i were not a person thoroughly devoted to your service, this woman has said enough to bring you into trouble. but,” continued he, “fear nothing. god be praised, by this time the prince your brother is out of danger.”

these words were very necessary, in the present state of my mind, to fortify it against the reproaches and threats i had reason to expect from the king. i found him sitting at the foot of the queen my mother’s bed, in such a violent rage that i am inclined to believe i should have felt the effects of it, had he not been restrained by the absence of my brother and my mother’s presence. they both told me that i had assured them my brother would not leave the court, and that i pledged myself for his stay. i replied that it was true that he had deceived me, as he had them; however, i was ready still to pledge my life that his departure would not operate to the prejudice of the king’s service, and that it would appear he was only gone to his own principality to give orders and forward his expedition to flanders.

the king appeared to be somewhat mollified by this declaration, and now gave me permission to return to my own apartments. soon afterwards he received letters from my brother, containing assurances of his attachment, in the terms i had before expressed. this caused a cessation of complaints, but by no means removed the king’s dissatisfaction, who made a show of affording assistance to his expedition, but was secretly using every means to frustrate and defeat it.