"Adieu!" The coach moved away, and I was left standing at the corner of the Rue St.Honore and the Rue des Bons Enfants, in the sorriest frame of mind conceivable.

The lady in the coach had saved my life, and for that I was more grateful perchance than my life was worth.

Out of gratitude sprang a regret for the pain that I had undoubtedly caused her, and the sorrow which it might have been my fate to cast over her life.
Still, regret, albeit an admirable sentiment, was one whose existence was usually brief in my bosom.

Dame! Had I been a man of regrets I might have spent the remainder of my days weeping over my past life.

But the gods, who had given me a character calculated to lead a man into misfortune, had given me a stout heart wherewith to fight that misfortune, and an armour of recklessness against which remorse, regrets, aye, and conscience itself, rained blows in vain.
And so it befell that presently I laughed myself out of the puerile humour that was besetting me, and, finding myself chilled by inaction in my wet clothes, I set off for the Palais Royal at a pace that was first cousin to a run.
Ten minutes later I stood in the presence of the most feared and hated man in France.
"Cospetto!" cried Mazarin as I entered his cabinet.