“He is a very wise man.”

“The wisest,” said Anne fondly. “But Louis is angry. Oh, sister, I shall have to find a bride for him soon.”

I thought: It must be Henriette. I have set my heart on Louis for Henriette. If I could see Henriette Queen of France I would go away, live quietly and leave the rest to fate.

There came another irritation and once more it concerned the Grande Mademoiselle. Wherever she was there was trouble. She was no longer banned from Court on account of activities in the Fronde and was now to be seen at functions as flamboyant as ever, though perhaps a little faded. Cardinal Mazarin had invited us to a supper party at which the King and the Duc d’Anjou would be present. I was always so delighted to take Henriette where the King was, and it was a pleasant evening apart from one incident. As we were leaving Mademoiselle walked out ahead of my daughter, which was tantamount to saying that she came before Henriette in precedence.

I had gone out just ahead of them and had expected Henriette to be immediately behind me and was very angry when I discovered what had happened and inwardly railed against Mademoiselle, wishing that she could be exiled forever.

That was not the end of the matter for what had happened came to the Cardinal’s ears. He was a stickler for etiquette and was most annoyed, first because one of the laws of protocol had been ignored and secondly because Henriette and I had been at the supper party as his guests.

A few days later there was a party at his apartments to which the King, the Duc d’Anjou and Mademoiselle had been invited. Fortunately neither I nor Henriette were present but there were plenty of people to report to me what had been said.

The Cardinal asked Mademoiselle if it was true that she had taken precedence over the Princess Henriette while the King and the Duc d’Anjou were listening.

It was the Duc d’Anjou who answered. He said very loudly so that all could hear: “And what if my cousin did? Why should people who rely on us for their food and lodging take precedence over us? If they do not like the treatment they get here, they should go somewhere else.”

I was terribly upset. So they regarded us as beggars! And this to come from the brother of the King—and Louis stood by and did nothing about it. It was more than I could endure.

The horrible realization came to me that they were getting tired of us.

I was so upset that I went to see the Cardinal and I told him that it was humiliating to accept a pension from the Queen. She was bountiful and had been a wonderful friend to me; I could never repay her for all she had done in my times of need; but I would like to be independent of her. I thought that as I was the Queen of England who had brought a dowry with her when I married the King, I should have some of that dowry back now. It was not the Queen of France who should be paying me a pension, but the English Parliament.

Mazarin shook his head. “Your Majesty cannot really believe that the English Parliament would give you a pension!”

“I don’t know. You have become friendly with this Oliver Cromwell. You say he is a man of integrity. Let us see something of that quality.”

“Such a request could only end in failure.”

“Will you make it?”

“If you insist.”

“I do,” I told him.

The result was more than failure. It was insulting. As I had never been crowned Queen of England the Parliament did not consider me as such.

When I heard those words I was so furious that I lost my temper with the Cardinal.

“Are they suggesting that I was the King’s concubine? Is the King of France going to stand aside and hear that said of his aunt, the daughter of his grandfather….”

Mazarin said quietly: “They have merely said that as you were not crowned you lack the rights of a queen. I believe the reason that you were not crowned was your own objection to the ceremony.”

“I can see,” I said, “that you are ready to accept the logic of your dear friend Oliver Cromwell.”

Anne asked me to see her. She was a good kind woman and I wished that she did not bore me so much for I should be truly grateful.

She said: “I know how you long for a place of your own…somewhere not too large…somewhere where you could get away from Court and live quietly when you are in the mood to do so.”

“I have Chaillot.”

“I did not mean a convent. I meant a little home. I do understand for I often feel I should like to do the same myself. It is impossible for me, of course, though perhaps later when Louis is married and has growing children…who knows? But I have been thinking of you, sister. Life is very hard for you.”

“You speak truth there. I am poor and dependent, and I and my daughter are the targets for insults.”

“Oh, that affair of the Grande Mademoiselle. I do not take her very seriously.”

“Her behavior touches me little. It was the remarks of the Duc d’Anjou….”

“Philippe sometimes speaks without thinking. I have reprimanded him strongly for his lack of courtesy. I think he was contrite. Let us look round for a suitable place. Do you remember the pleasure we had over Chaillot?”

“Oh, Anne, dear sister, you are so good and kind.”

“I understand your feelings so well,” she replied. “I should like to make life a little easier for you.”

“I could never afford to buy such a place if I found it.”

“Let us first look for the place and then consider that.”

The dear generous creature was comforting me again.

The outcome was that together we discovered the small château in the village of Colombes. It was only seven miles from Paris and yet in the heart of the country. The village was beautiful and peaceful as only such villages can be, brooded over by the church with its twelfth-century tower. The château was small, like a country house rather than a castle and I knew that I could be happy in it.

I was considerably cheered when Anne and I planned together what furniture would be put in it and when the place was completed it was indeed a haven.

Perhaps that was the beginning of better days. It was not long after—a beautiful September day in the year 1658—when the messenger came to Colombes where I was staying.

I knew he had some exciting news to tell me for he could scarcely wait.

“A message for the Queen,” he cried. “Oliver Cromwell is dead!”

So England had a new Lord Protector—Richard Cromwell, son of Oliver.

The Court was buzzing with the news and messages were coming all the time from England. Richard was not the man his father had been; he lacked authority; he had no desire to govern; he was too soft; some said he was more like the martyred King than Oliver’s son.

What now? everyone was asking.

After the first months the excitement died down and it seemed as though Charles was no nearer winning his rights from Richard than he had been from Oliver.

Still, the old ogre was dead and we continued to hear that the new Protector lacked those qualities which had brought victory to his father.

Anne was growing more and more eager to find a bride for Louis and my niece Marguerite, daughter of my sister Christine, was brought to Paris, on trial as it were. She was a very plain girl and older than Louis. He took an instant dislike to her and I was sorry for Marguerite but relieved all the same on account of Henriette.

It was quite clear that Louis had a mind of his own. He was both the delight and terror of his mother’s life. But she was beside herself with joy when the Cardinal was able to tell her that his clever diplomacy had not only brought about peace with Spain but the promise of the Infanta Marie Theresa as bride for Louis.

It was what she had always wanted and she could not hide her joy, although she tried to from me, knowing my aspirations for Henriette.

But I was accustomed to disappointments and I could not help feeling a twinge of relief that at least my sister Christine’s plain daughter had not been chosen. I now had to accept that Henriette would never be Queen of France.

The French Court had gone to the Spanish border to meet the Spanish Infanta, and Henriette and I remained in Paris. How glad I was that we did! I had taken Henriette to Colombes with me. She was rather sad. I do believe that she was a little in love with Louis and it must have been painful for her to have been rejected by him, even though she could console herself that the main reason was that she was a dependant on his Court and that had her brother regained his throne there might have been a match between them.

I was seated in my favorite room with some of my friends when a visitor was announced and a tall dark man came into the room.

“Charles!”

It was indeed. Changed after all the years. It must have been six since I had seen him and we had parted not such good friends on account of Henry. In spite of the change in him he had lost none of that charm which was going to smooth his path through life.

He said: “A fleeting visit, Mam. I do not think it will be long now. I verily believe they are going to ask me to go back.”

Then he turned and seizing one of my most handsome ladies picked her up in his arms and kissed her fervently. We were all astonished—until he called her his dear sister Henriette. Then I realized that he had mistaken the lady for the Princess. Or had he? I wondered. Or just pretended to? It gave him an opportunity of kissing the pretty girl. I could not be sure. But no matter. He was here and it was wonderful to see him.

I sent at once for Henriette. She ran to him and they embraced. The affection between those two had not diminished with his absence.