Condé looked at him in surprise.
“Is it possible that you also see the charm of the lad’s face and manner, monsignor?” he asked in an amused tone; “he is but a clockmaker’s boy, yet he interested me.”
“And he also interests me,” said Richelieu, calmly. “Frankly, M. le Prince, may I have the boy?”
Condé shrugged his shoulders.
“Certainly, your eminence,” he said pleasantly; “he is not so precious to me that I cannot part with him. His guardians, Jacques des Horloges and a priest, Père Antoine, made much ado about his coming to me, but doubtless they will be proud to give him to you.”
“That is soon settled,” Richelieu answered; “with your permission, therefore, M. de Condé, I will take the lad with me to Ruel.”
So it was that, to Péron’s surprise and dismay, he found himself riding that night to Ruel in the train of the man who had fascinated his childish fancy, and whose figure had moved in every vision of his boyhood. He could not decide whether he was pleased or not, but it was a change which excited his fancy and flattered his youthful pride. Not many boys of his years had had the good fortune to attract the interest of Richelieu. It seemed to impress even Jacques des Horloges and Père Antoine as a stroke of luck, for they made no objection to the sudden change; it may have been that they dared not. In any case, all went smoothly, and the fatherless boy took his place in the cardinal’s house, watched, though he knew it not, by that keen eye which could not be deceived.
CHAPTER IX
THE CARDINAL’S CLOCK
TIME passed, and there were changes in state and at court. The trouble between the Huguenots and the Catholics had reached a climax, and France had once more beheld a religious war. The gallant Duke of Rohan had made his fight and lost. The famous siege of La Rochelle was now a thing of the past; vanishing in the distance as the white sails of Buckingham’s fleet vanished from before the starving city and left it to the mercy of the cardinal. Richelieu had triumphed in war and peace, though still beset by constant plotting and counterplotting at home. The queen-mother, who had at first supported and patronized him, had become jealous of his increasing influence with the king, and was now intriguing to overthrow the minister. She was seconded in her efforts by her second son, the Duke of Orleans, who, led on by his mother, had openly rebelled against his brother the king, and invoked the aid of Spain. His defeat at Castelnaudary had ruined the gallant Montmorency, and Monsieur was ever ready to desert those whom he had involved in his own dishonor. Marie de’ Medici had been defeated at every point in her struggle with Richelieu, and finding herself in danger of being shut up by the cardinal at Moulins and stripped of the last vestige of authority, she fled at night, attended by only one gentleman, and took refuge in Brussels. There she continued to hatch innumerable conspiracies, determined to overthrow Richelieu and regain her own place in the councils of her son. The struggle between mother and son which Henri Quatre had predicted, was only to terminate with her death. Unhappily she lived long enough to keep affairs in a constant turmoil during most of her son’s reign, and at her death there was still left the Duke of Orleans, who inherited her temperament. However, it was during the early years of the queen-mother’s exile at Brussels that the greatest number of plots were constantly springing up under the feet of Richelieu, and it was at this time that he made the most use of his followers and tried the merits of all those in his service.
Thus it happened that the years made many and swift changes for Péron, while they made but few at the shop on the Rue de la Ferronnerie. The boy had grown to be a tall young man in the cardinal’s household, and wore now the dress of Richelieu’s musketeers, having served his patron faithfully and on several occasions with distinguished courage and skill. He stood high in the cardinal’s esteem, and there seemed no reason to regret his change from the service of Condé.