"Even so. Are you surprised to see that the daw has become a peacock?"
A week had passed since my midnight adventure, and I was taking the air in the public gardens. Many richly-dressed cavaliers were strolling about, and among them I recognised my friend Raoul Beauchamp. He saw me almost at the same time, and, leaving his comrades, came over instantly.
"I' faith," said he merrily, "a very handsome one, too! For a country-bred youngster you have not done badly. Let us take a stroll on the Pont Neuf while you tell your story. I am dying of curiosity. Do you know you have made a splash in the world?"
"A truce to flattery, Raoul," I laughed.
"It is a fact, my dear fellow. In certain circles you are the mystery of the day. Your cousin Henri growls like a savage bear at your name; Armand d'Arçy does nothing but laugh and call himself an oaf; while only last night De Retz declared you were worth your weight in gold. And, to make matters worse, no one could say whether you were free or in the Bastille! Anyway, I am glad you have not joined Mazarin's Guards."
"Why?"
"Because you should be one of us, and we are opposed to Mazarin."
"The Cardinal is a well-hated man!"
"A wretched Italian priest! The nation will have none of him. Before long France will be quit of Mazarin."
"And what will happen then?"