Madame Condé went out of the room, and met the Duchess of Longuville in the corridor, and the two women looked at each other in the dim light— They were once enemies of each other, when the Bishop of Richelieu was in power, the Prince of Condé, who was still the Duke of Anghien, had a woman in love, and even the Duchess of Longueville regarded each other as her future sister-in-law, although the sudden insertion of Clara Colemons was not her intention, but in essence it could be described as a humiliation to the entire Condé family, and the unhappy marriage of the Duchess of Longueville made her have a deep jealousy of Clara in addition to disgust, and the Prince of Condé was cold and mean to his wife, and the Duchess of Longueville not only did not try to persuade her, but even added fuel to the fire.

But at this time the two noble women had the same purpose, and perhaps the Prince of Condé would have been surprised, and instead of fighting with their eyes and tongues, as usual, they looked away and calmly staggered by, the Madame Prince had planted the seed, and the Duchess of Longueville was trying to make it flourish.

What happened in this room was not known for the time being, but those who were interested could still speculate on one or two of them, and after the Queen Mother Anne had ordered her attendants to put the Duchess of Montpensier under house arrest, she had a whole afternoon of meetings with Bishop Mazarin.

"You're saying they want to arrest Prince Condé. Louie said.

"Yes. "And Prince Conte and the Duke of Longueville. She looked at Louis worriedly, for the king's expression was not good-looking.

"Did they say what to do after the arrest of the prince?" Louis asked.

Mary frowned and shook her head, but she immediately said, "I'll listen to it again?"

"Nope. Louis said, "I ...... now Even if you know...... It didn't help either. "Can he still go and warn the Prince of Condé to flee quickly? He swore that as soon as the Prince of Condé left Paris, he would raise the anti-royal flag."

Like many girls, Mary was politically insensitive but she could clearly sense the king's depression: "Is there anything else I can do for you?" she asked tentatively.

"Nothing," said Louie, "if you have to do something," Louis said, "you can tidy up your little bag and your important luggage." ”

"Why? Do you want to leave Paris?"

"I don't want to," said the king with a wry smile, "but it is clear that this is not something I can decide. He looked at his hands, and for the first time felt that time was passing so slowly.

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The king felt that time was slow, but the Duke of La Rocheffoucault felt that time flew as fast as quicksand, and he followed Prince Condé back to his mansion in Paris, and two or three days passed in a blink of an eye, and Prince Condé was still hesitant, he was a warrior on the battlefield, but he was like a weak woman in the political situation, and no one pushed him away, so he preferred to stand still and remain motionless, but to say that he was willing to do so...... He wouldn't be full of complaints about the royal family, and he wouldn't be able to think about what reward he would get, would that make him prime minister, or regent king?

No, there may still be a difference, probably because he can still maintain a good reputation, but such a secretive act makes it difficult for the Duke of La Rochefoucauld.

He had been frowning for the past few days, and even if the Duchess of Longueville had left her husband, who was still recuperating, and came to him to comfort him, it would be of no avail, and at dusk a stranger brought him a letter, so that the Duke's brow barely had time to stretch again. But no matter how reluctant, he still had to go to the appointment, so after seeing off the Duchess of Longuville, he took care of himself, put on a black civilian dress, put on a cloak, and rode out of the mansion alone, which was really undesirable for a gentleman of status, he did not even bring a servant, it was really unseemly, but if anyone saw where he went, he would immediately show a smile of understanding—for the Duke was going to the Boulogne.

The Boulogne grove is located on the left side of Paris, belonging to the royal family, and the king often leads his nobles to hunt and ride horses in it, killing time, and over time, like Versailles and Fontainebleau, around this emerald green paradise, there are a number of inns and cinemas, some purely to take care of the diet and daily life of the nobles, some to meet another need- Interestingly, because of its proximity to Paris, the latter, the unspeakable deal, unwittingly developed violently, completely beyond the original intention, but given the staggering profits it brought to them, two successive prime ministers, Richelieu and Mazarin, remained silent after collecting huge taxes.

The whole of Paris and even half of France know that the "famous lady" of the Boulogne woods They are of high quality, the service is authentic, the fees are expensive but also fair, the men love to go, even just ordinary citizens or small merchants, some husbands even embezzle their wives' dowries, or force their wives to do the same disgusting things to get money to take care of the girls' business, for a time, the night here is even more lively than day, the carriages and horses are endless, and there is no shortage of soldiers, even if the whole of Paris was rioting before, there is no shortage of soldiers. The butcher or the judge, or rather, because of the uneasy times, people also need to be paralyzed and appeased, and have a greater urge to profligate, after all, in this era, even the king does not know whether he will be able to see the sun tomorrow.

So, neither the Duchess of La Rocheffaucauld, nor the Duchess of Longueville, with whom he had an illegitimate child, had no right to interfere with his actions, nor did anyone wonder about his whereabouts.

The Duke of La Rochefoucauld, on horseback, arrived at Boulogne before sunset, and the place he was going to was a temple of love hidden between the marshes and the woods, a building that would be strange for others to see, because not only was it surrounded by a long corridor outside the room, but it also extended into the courtyard of the four sides, which was divided into four parts, unlike the low plants that people now liked, the courtyard was full of tall trees with their branches and leaves, and it is conceivable that in the middle of summer, when the sun is scorching, even if a man does not wear a hat or an umbrella, he will not be harmed by the sun。

When the Duke walked in, a great feast had just begun, and he was greeted by the hot air and the rich aroma of wine, as he had removed his cloak, that he had put away his hat and gloves, and that he had been served a brass basin with rose water for him to wash his hands.

"Who is ruling here today?" asked the Duke of La Rochefoucauldt.

"Bacchus, the god of wine. It was replied that it was a trick played by the celebrities to keep them fresh, and Bacchus, the god of wine, appeared almost as often as Venus because of his secret and dark symbolism.

So the duke also changed into the cross-strap-on shoes of the Romans, and put on a loose linen robe, and put on a crown of ivy and grape branches, and a young man with bare arms poured him wine, and he took the glass and drank it all— It was almost a hint that he followed the boy into the depths of the courtyard, and every room he passed was full of spring light, and the Duke thought to himself that if anyone wanted to be a divine judge, it would be better for him to pass through here than to let him walk over the red-hot twelve iron ploughs, and if he could not have any desires, then he would be no different from a saint, and certainly not guilty.

Such thoughts did not dissipate until the end of the corridor, and the Duke's guide, as soon as he stretched out his hand, pushed open the heavy bronze door—no one could see that the small, white hand had such strength.

Inside, there were several rooms joined together, separated only by curtains, and in every corner were young men and women sitting or lying down, drinking and merry, and letting the scarlet liquor pour on the expensive silk carpet—the last of which was a heavy blue-purple velvet, embellished with long-forgotten streaks, where the boy stopped, and the Duke of La Rochefoucauld, with a reverence not seen in the way of the king or the Prince of Condé, waited with bated breath until he was called, and then bowed his head and walked in step by step.