although so crippled by the gout that he could scarcely walk up stairs.

There was an end to the triumvirate. Sully's influence was gone for
ever. The other two dropped the mask. The Chancellor and Villeroy
revealed themselves to be what they secretly had always been--humble
servants and stipendiaries of Spain. The formal meetings of the council
were of little importance, and were solemn, tearful, and stately; draped
in woe for the great national loss. In the private cabinet meetings in
the entresol of the Louvre, where the Nuncius and the Spanish ambassador
held counsel with Epernon and Villeroy and Jeannin and Sillery, the tone
was merry and loud; the double Spanish marriage and confusion to the
Dutch being the chief topics of consultation.

But the anarchy grew day by day into almost hopeless chaos. There was no
satisfying the princes of the blood nor the other grandees. Conde, whose
reconciliation with the Princess followed not long after the death of
Henry and his own return to France, was insatiable in his demands for
money, power, and citadels of security. Soissons, who might formerly
have received the lieutenancy-general of the kingdom by sacrificing the
lilies on his wife's gown, now disputed for that office with his elder
brother Conti, the Prince claiming it by right of seniority, the Count
denouncing Conti as deaf, dumb, and imbecile, till they drew poniards on
each other in the very presence of the Queen; while Conde on one
occasion, having been refused the citadels which he claimed, Blaye and
Chateau Trompette, threw his cloak over his nose and put on his hat while
the Queen was speaking, and left the council in a fury, declaring that
Villeroy and the chancellor were traitors, and that he would have them
both soundly cudgelled. Guise, Lorraine, Epernon, Bouillon, and other
great lords always appeared in the streets of Paris at the head of three,
four, or five hundred mounted and armed retainers; while the Queen in her