Unlike me, however, he was no adventurous soldier of fortune, but a man of peace, with an estate in Provence that had a rent-roll of five thousand livres a year.

On his death-bed he had cast about him for an heir, unwilling that his estate should swell the fortunes of the family that in life had disowned him.

Into his ear some kindly angel had whispered my name, and the memory that I shared with him the frowns of our house, and that my plight must be passing pitiful, had set up a bond of sympathy between us, which had led him to will his lands to me.

Of Madame de Chevreuse--who clearly was the patron saint of those of her first husband's nephews who chanced to tread ungodly ways--my cousin Marion had besought that she should see to the fulfilment of his last wishes.
My brain reeled beneath the first shock of that unlooked-for news.
Already I saw myself transformed from a needy adventurer into a gentleman of fortune, and methought my road to Yvonne lay open, all obstacles removed.

But swiftly there followed the thought of my own position, and truly it seemed that a cruel irony lay in the manner wherein things had fallen out, since did I declare myself to be alive and claim the Provence estates, the Cardinal's claws would be quick to seize me.
Thus much I told Madame de Chevreuse, but her answer cheered me, and said much for my late cousin's prudence.
"Nay," she cried.