The meanest ruffler who, with broken feather and tarnished lace, swaggered at the heels of Turenne, was scarcely to be distinguished from me.

I had still, it is true, a rock and a few barren acres in Brittany, the last remains of the family property; but the small small sums which the peasants could afford to pay were sent annually to Paris, to my mother, who had no other dower.

And this I would not touch, being minded to die a gentleman, even if I could not live in that estate.
Small as were my expectations of success, since I had no one at the king's side to push my business, nor any friend at Court, I nevertheless did all I could, in the only way that occurred to me.

I drew up a petition, and lying in wait one day for M.Forget, the King of Navarre's secretary, placed it in his hand, begging him to lay it before that prince.

He took it, and promised to do so, smoothly, and with as much lip-civility as I had a right to expect.