The Duke of Bouillon entertained his guests splendidly, though his
poor Duchess was absent in the Bastille. The ladies had to dine
every day in the great hall with all the officers, and it was a
regular banquet, always beginning and ending with Conde's health.
Great German goblets were served out to everybody, servants and all,
and the Duke of Bouillon began by unsheathing his sword, and taking
off his hat, while he vowed to die in the service of the Princes, and
never to return his sword to the scabbard--in metaphor, I suppose--
till it was over. Everybody shouted in unison, waved the sword,
flourished the hat, and then drank, sometimes standing, sometimes on
their knees. The two little boys, with their tiny swords, were
delighted to do the same, though their mothers took care that there
should be more water than wine in their great goblets.
I afterwards asked Cecile, who was wont to shudder at the very sight
of a sword, how she endured all these naked weapons flourishing round
her. 'Oh,' she said, 'did not I see my husband's liberty through
them?'
The ladies were then escorted, partly on horseback, partly by boat,
to Limeuil, and that same day their Dukes gained a victory over the
royal troops, and captured all their baggage, treasure, and plate, so
that Cecile actually heard the sounds of battle, and her husband
might say, as the Prince did at Vincennes: 'A fine state of things
that my wife should be leading armies while I am watering pinks.
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