Princes obliged him to put on the mask of friendship, yet he could never
forget the great affronts and injuries which he had received from the
Court. But all this could not dissuade me, and the Duke at last gave his
approbation, with repeated assurances to allow me a place next his heart
and to correspond with me in secret.

Having taken my leave of the Princes, I retired accordingly to my
cloister of Notre-Dame, where I did not trust Providence so far as to
omit the use of human means for defending myself against the insults of
my enemies.

Except the visits which I paid in the night-time to the Hotel de
Chevreuse, I conversed with none but canons and cures. I was the object
of raillery both at Court and at the Palace of Conde; and because I had
set up a bird-cage at a window, it became a common jest that "the
Coadjutor whistled to the linnets." The disposition of Paris, however,
made amends for the raillery of the Court. I found myself very secure,
while other people were very uneasy. The cures, parish priests, and even
the mendicants, informed themselves with diligence of the negotiations of
the Prince de Conde. I gave M. de Beaufort a thrust now and then, which
he knew not how to parry with all his cunning, and the Duc d'Orleans, who
in his heart was enraged against the Court, continued his correspondence
with me very faithfully.

Soon after, the Marechal du Plessis came to me at midnight and embraced
me, saying, "I greet you as our Prime Minister." When he saw that I
smiled, he added, "I do not jest; you may be so if you please. The Queen
has ordered me to tell you that she puts the King and Crown into your
hands." He showed me a letter written in the Cardinal's own hand to the
Queen, which concluded thus: