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St. Bartholomew's Eve

<h2>Chapter 18: A Visit Home.</h2> While Coligny had been accomplishing his wonderful march round France, La Noue, who had been exchanged for Strozzi, had betaken himself to La Rochelle. He forced the Catholics, who were still languidly blockading that place, to fall back; defeated them near Lucon, and recaptured Fontenay, Niort, the Isle of Oleron, Brouage, and Saintes. At Fontenay, however, the brave Huguenot leader had his left arm broken, and was obliged to have it amputated. Negotiations were now being carried on in earnest. Charles the Ninth was weary of a war that impoverished the state, diminished his revenues, and forced him to rely upon the Guises, whom he feared and disliked. Over and over again, he had been assured that the war was practically at an end, and the Huguenots crushed; but as often, fresh armies rose. The cities that had been taken with so much difficulty had again fallen into their hands, and Paris itself was menaced. The princes of Germany wrote, begging him to make peace; and although the terms fell far short of what the Huguenots hoped and desired, the concessions were large and, could they have depended upon the good faith of the court, their lives would have at least been tolerable. A complete amnesty was granted, and a royal command issued that the Protestants were to be exposed to neither insults nor recriminations, and were to be at liberty to profess their faith openly. Freedom of worship was, however, restricted within very small proportions. The nobles of high rank were permitted to name a place, belonging to them, where religious services could be performed. As long as they or their families were present, these services could be attended by all persons in their jurisdiction. Other nobles were allowed to have services, but only for their families and friends, not exceeding twelve in number. Twenty-four towns were named, two in each of the principal provinces, in which Protestant services were allowed; the privilege being extended to all the towns of which the Huguenots had possession, at the signature of the truce. All property, honours, and offices were restored, and judicial decisions against their holders annulled. The four towns, La Rochelle, Montauban, Cognac, and La Charite were, for two years, to remain in the hands of the Huguenots, to serve as places of refuge. The edict, in which the king promulgated the terms of peace, stated the conditions to be perpetual and irrevocable. The Huguenots had the more hope that the peace would be preserved, since Montmorency, who was an opponent of the Guises, and had done his best to bring about peace, was high in favour with the king; and indeed, held the chief power in France. There can be little doubt that, at the time, the king was in earnest. He ordered the parliament of Paris to annul a declaration they had made, declaring the Cardinal Chatillon, the Admiral's brother, deprived of his bishopric; and as it hesitated, he ordered its president to bring the records to him, and with his own hand tore out the pages upon which the proceedings were entered. The priests, throughout France, threw every obstacle in the way of the recognition of the edict; and in several places there were popular disturbances, and wholesale massacres. Paris, as usual, set the example of turbulence and bigotry. As soon as the peace was concluded, Philip prepared to return for a while to England. In the three years which had elapsed since he left home, he had greatly changed. He had been a lad of sixteen when he landed in France. He was now a tall, powerful young fellow. Although still scarcely beyond the age of boyhood, he had acquired the bearing and manners of a man. He stood high in the confidence of Coligny, and the other Huguenot leaders; was a special favourite with the young Prince of Navarre, and his cousin Conde; and had received the honour of knighthood, at the hands of one of the greatest captains of his age. "You had better stay, Philip," his cousin urged. "You may be sure that this peace will be as hollow as those which preceded it. There will never be a lasting one until we have taken Paris, and taught the bloodthirsty mob there that it is not only women and children who profess the reformed religion, but men who have swords in their hands and can use them." "If the troubles break out again, I shall hasten back, Francois; indeed, I think that in any case I shall return for a while, ere long. I do not see what I could do at home. My good uncle Gaspard has been purchasing land for me, but I am too young to play the country gentleman." "Nonsense, Philip. There have been plenty of young nobles in our ranks who, if your seniors in years, look no older than you do, and are greatly your inferiors in strength. They are feudal lords on their estates, and none deem them too young." "Because they have always been feudal nobles, Francois. I go back to a place where I was, but three years ago, a boy at school. My comrades there are scarcely grown out of boyhood. It will seem to them ridiculous that I should return Sir Philip Fletcher; and were I to set up as a country squire, they would laugh in my face. Until I am at least of age, I should not dream of this; and five-and-twenty would indeed be quite time for me to settle down there. "Here it is altogether different. I was introduced as your cousin, and as a son of one of noble French family; and to our friends here it is no more remarkable that I should ride behind Coligny, and talk with the princes of Navarre and Conde, than that you should do so. But at home it would be different; and I am sure that my father and mother, my uncle and aunt will agree with me that it is best I should not settle down, yet. Therefore I propose, in any case, to return soon. "I agree with you there will be troubles again here, before long. If not, there is likely enough to be war with Spain, for they say Philip is furious at toleration having been granted to the Huguenots; and in that case there will be opportunities for us, and it will be much pleasanter fighting against Spaniards than against Frenchmen. "If there are neither fresh troubles here, nor war with Spain, I shall go and join the Dutch in their struggle against the Spaniards. Prince Louis of Nassau told me that he would willingly have me to ride behind him; and the Prince of Orange, to whom the Admiral presented me, also spoke very kindly. They, like you, are fighting for the reformed faith and freedom of worship and, cruel as are the persecutions you have suffered in France, they are as nothing to the wholesale massacres by Alva." "In that case, Philip, I will not try to detain you; but at any rate, wait a few months before you take service in Holland, and pay us another visit before you decide upon doing so." Philip journeyed quietly across the north of France, and took passage to Dover for himself and his horses. Pierre accompanied him, taking it so greatly to heart, when he spoke of leaving him, behind that Philip consented to keep him; feeling, indeed, greatly loath to part from one who had, for three years, served him so well. The two men-at-arms were transferred to Francois' troop, both being promised that, if Philip rode to the wars again in France, they and their comrades now at Laville should accompany him. From Dover Philip rode to Canterbury. He saw in the streets he passed through many faces he knew, among them some of his former schoolfellows; and he wondered to himself that these were so little changed, while he was so altered that none recognized, in the handsomely dressed young cavalier, the lad they had known; although several stopped to look at, and remark on, the splendid horses ridden by the gentleman and his attendant. He drew rein in front of Gaspard Vaillant's large establishment and, dismounting, gave his reins to Pierre and entered. He passed straight through the shop into the merchant's counting house. <center><ANTIMG src="images/i.jpg" alt="Gaspard Vaillant gets a surprise." /></center> Gaspard looked up in surprise, at the entry of a gentleman unannounced; looked hard at his visitor, and then uttered his name and, rushing forward, embraced him warmly. "I can hardly believe it is you," he exclaimed, holding Philip at arm's length and gazing up in his face. "Why, you have grown a veritable giant; and as fine a man as your father was, when I first knew him; and you have returned Sir Philip, too. I don't know that I was ever so pleased as when you sent me the news. I gave a holiday to all the workmen, and we had a great fete. "But of course, you cannot stop now. You will be wanting to go up to your father and mother. Run upstairs and embrace Marie. We will not keep you at present, but in an hour we will be up with you." In a minute or two Philip ran down again. "Pardieu, but you are well mounted, Philip," the merchant said, as he sprang into the saddle. "These are the two horses, I suppose, you told us about in your letters. "And is this Pierre, who saved your life when you were captured at Agen?" "And a good many other times, uncle, by always managing to get hold of a fat pullet when we were pretty near starving. I was always afraid that, sooner or later, I should lose him; and that I should find him, some morning or other, dangling from a tree to which the provost marshal had strung him up." "Then I shall see you in an hour." And Philip galloped off to the farm. The delight of Philip's parents, as he rode up to the house, was great indeed. Philip saw, before he had been at home an hour, that they were animated by somewhat different feelings. His mother was full of gratitude, at his preservation through many dangers; and was glad that he had been able to do some service to her persecuted co-religionists--the fact that he had won great personal credit, and had received the honour of knighthood at the hands of Coligny himself, weighed as nothing in her eyes. It was otherwise with his father. He was very proud that his boy had turned out a worthy descendant of the fighting Kentish stock; and that he had shown, in half-a-dozen fights against heavy odds, a courage as staunch as that which his forefathers had exhibited at Cressy, Poitiers, and Agincourt. "Good blood tells, my boy," he said; "and you must have shown them a rare sample of what an Englishman can do, before they knighted you. I would rather you had won it in an English battle, but all admit that there is no more capable chief in Europe than the Huguenot Admiral. Certainly there are no English commanders of fame or repute to compare with him; though if we ever get to blows with the Spanish, we shall soon find men, I warrant me, who will match the best of them. "There was a deal of talk in Canterbury, I can tell you, when the news came home; and many refugees who came through the town declared that they had heard your name among those of the nobles who rode with the Admiral, and the brave La Noue. Indeed, there are two families settled here who fled from Niort, and these have told how you and your cousin saved them from the Catholics. "I warrant you they have told the tale often enough since they have come here; and it has made quite a stir in Canterbury, and there is not a week passes without some of your old school friends, who used to come up here with you, running up to ask the last news of you, and to hear your letters read; and it has been a pleasure to me to read them, lad, and to see how they opened their eyes when they heard that the Queen of Navarre and her son had given you presents, and that you often rode with the young prince, and his cousin Conde. "You have changed, Philip, mightily; not in your face, for I see but little alteration there, but in your manner and air. The boys did not seem to understand how you, whom they looked on as one of themselves, could be riding to battle with nobles and talking with princes; but I think they will understand better, when they see you. You look almost too fine for such simple people as we are, Philip; though I do not say your clothes are not of sombre hues, as might be expected from one fighting in the Huguenot ranks." "I am sure, father," Philip laughed, "there is nothing fine about me. I have gained knighthood, it is true; but a poorer knight never sat in saddle, seeing that I have neither a square yard of land nor a penny piece of my own, owing everything to the kindness of my good uncle, and yourself." "I must go out tomorrow morning, Philip, and look at those horses of yours. They must be rare beasts, from what you say of them." "That are they, father. Methinks I like the one I bought at Rochelle even better than that which the Queen of Navarre bestowed upon me; but I grieved sorely over the death of Victor, the horse Francois gave me. I was riding him at the fight of Moncontour, and he was shot through the head with a ball from a German arquebus." Pierre had, as soon as they arrived, been welcomed and made much of by Philip's mother; and was speedily seated in the post of honour in the kitchen, where he astonished the French servants with tales of his master's adventures, with many surprising additions which had but slight basis of fact. Gaspard Vaillant and his wife thought that Philip's parents would like to have him, for a time, to themselves; and did not come up for two or three hours after he had arrived. "You will admit, John, that my plan has acted rarely," the merchant said, when he was seated; "and that, as I prophesied, it has made a man of him. What would he have been, if he had stayed here?" "He would, I hope, brother Gaspard," Lucie said gravely, "have been what he is now--a gentleman." "No doubt, Lucie. He promised as much as that, before he went; but he is more than that now. He has been the companion of nobles, and has held his own with them; and if he should go to court, now, he would do honour to your family and his, though he rubbed shoulders with the best of them. "And now, what are you thinking of doing next, Philip? You will hardly care to settle down among us here, after such a life as you have led for the last three years." Philip repeated the views he had expressed to Francois de Laville, and his plans were warmly approved by his uncle and father; though his mother folded her hands, and shook her head sadly. "The lad is right, Lucie," the merchant said. "He is lord now of the Holford estates--for the deeds are completed and signed, Philip, making them over to you. But I agree heartily with your feeling that you are too young, yet, to assume their mastership. I have a good steward there looking after things, seeing that all goes well, and that the house is kept in order. But it is best, as you say, that a few years should pass before you go to reside there. We need not settle, for a time, whether you shall return to France, or go to see service with those sturdy Dutchmen against the Spaniards. But I should say that it is best you should go where you have already made a name, and gained many friends. "There is no saying, yet, how matters will go there. Charles is but a puppet in the hands of Catherine de Medici; and with the pope, and Philip of Spain, and the Guises always pushing her on, she will in time persuade the king, who at present earnestly wishes for peace, to take fresh measures against the Huguenots. She is never happy unless she is scheming, and you will see she will not be long before she begins to make trouble, again." The news spread quickly through Canterbury that Philip Fletcher had returned, and the next day many of his old friends came up to see him. At first they were a little awed by the change that had come over him, and one or two of them even addressed him as Sir Philip. But the shout of laughter, with which he received this well-meant respect, showed them that he was their old schoolfellow still; and soon set them at their ease with him. "We didn't think, Philip," one of them said, "when you used to take the lead in our fights with the boys of the town, that you would be so soon fighting in earnest, in France; and that in three years you would have gained knighthood." "I did not think so myself, Archer. You used to call me Frenchie, you know; but I did not think, at the time, that I was likely ever to see France. I should like to have had my old band behind me, in some of the fights we had there. I warrant you would have given as hard knocks as you got, and would have held your own there, as well as you did many a time in the fights in the Cloisters. "Let us go and lie down under the shade of that tree, there. It used to be our favourite bank, you know, in hot weather; and you shall ask as many questions as you like, and I will answer as best I can." "And be sure, Philip, to bring all your friends in to supper," John Fletcher said. "I warrant your mother will find plenty for them to eat. She never used to have any difficulty about that, in the old times; and I don't suppose their appetites are sharper, now, than they were then." Philip spent six months at home. A few days after his return many of the country gentry, who had not known John Fletcher, called on Philip, as one who had achieved a reputation that did honour to the county--for every detail of the Huguenot struggle had been closely followed, in England; and more than one report had been brought over, by emigres, of the bravery of a young Englishman who was held in marked consideration by Admiral Coligny, and had won a name for himself, even among the nobles and gentlemen who rode with that dashing officer De La Noue, whose fame was second only to that of the Admiral. Walsingham, the English ambassador at Paris, had heard of him from La Noue himself, when he was a prisoner there; and mentioned him in one of his despatches, saying that it was this gentleman who had been chosen, by Coligny, to carry important despatches both to the Queen of Navarre and the Duc de Deux-Ponts, and had succeeded admirably in both these perilous missions; and that he had received knighthood, at the hands of the Admiral, for the valour with which he had covered the retreat at the battle of Jarnac. Philip was, at first, disposed to meet these advances coldly. "They have not recognized you or my mother, father, as being of their own rank." "Nor have we been, Philip. I am but a petty landowner, while it is already known that you are the owner of a considerable estate; and have gained consideration and credit, and as a knight have right to precedence over many of them. If you had intended to settle in France, you could do as you like as to accepting their courtesies; but as it is, it is as well that you should make the acquaintance of those with whom you will naturally associate, when you take up your residence on the estate your uncle has bought for you. "Had your mother and I a grievance against them, it might be different; but we have none. We Fletchers have been yeomen here for many generations. In our own rank, we esteem ourselves as good as the best; but we never thought of pushing ourselves out of our own station, and in the ordinary course of things you would have lived and died as your fathers have done. The change has come about, first through my marrying a French wife of noble blood, though with but a small share of this world's goods; secondly through her sister's husband making a large fortune in trade, and adopting you as his heir; and thirdly, through your going out to your mother's relations, and distinguishing yourself in the war. Thus you stand in an altogether different position to that which I held. "You are a man with an estate. You are noble, on your mother's side. You are a knight, and have gained the approval of great captains and princes. Therefore it is only meet and right that you should take your place among the gentry; and it would be not only churlish to refuse to accept their civilities now, but altogether in opposition to the course which your uncle planned for you." Philip therefore accepted the civilities offered to him, and was invited to entertainments at many of the great houses in that part of the county; where, indeed, he was made a good deal of--his fine figure, the ease and courtesy of his bearing, and the reputation he had gained for bravery, rendering him a general favourite. At the end of six months he received a letter from his cousin, urging him to return. "Spring has now begun, Philip. At present things are going on quietly, and the king seems determined that the peace shall be kept. The Constable Montmorency is still very high in favour, and the Guises are sulking on their estates. The Huguenot nobles are all well received at court, where they go in numbers, to pay their respect to the king and to assure him of their devotion. I have been there with my mother, and the king was mightily civil, and congratulated me on having been knighted by Coligny. We were present at his majesty's marriage with the daughter of the Emperor of Germany. The show was a very fine one, and everything pleasant. "There is a report that, in order to put an end to all further troubles, and to bind both parties in friendship, the king has proposed a marriage between his sister Marguerite and Henry of Navarre. We all trust that it will take place, for it will indeed be a grand thing for us of the reformed faith. "It is rumoured that Queen Jeanne is by no means eager for the match, fearing that Henry, once at Paris, will abandon the simple customs in which he has been brought up; and may even be led away, by the influence of Marguerite and the court, to abandon his faith. Her first fear, I think, is likely enough to be realized; for it seems to me that he has been brought up somewhat too strictly, and being, I am sure, naturally fond of pleasure, he is likely enough to share in the gaieties of the court of Paris. As to her other fear, I cannot think there is foundation for it. Henry is certainly ambitious and very politic, and he has talked often and freely with me, when we have been alone together. He has spoken, once or twice, of his chances of succeeding to the throne of France. They are not great, seeing that three lives stand between it and him and, now that the king has married, they are more remote than before. Still there is the chance; and he once said to me: "'One thing seems to me to be certain, Francois: supposing Charles of Valois and his two brothers died without leaving heirs, France would not accept a Huguenot king. There would be the Guises, and the priests, and the papacy, and Spain all thrown in the scale against him.' "'That is likely enough, prince,' I said; 'and methinks your lot would be preferable, as King of Navarre, to that of King of France. However, happily there is no reason for supposing that the king and his two brothers will die without heirs.' "He did not speak for some time, but sat there thinking. You know the way he has. Methinks, Philip, that when he comes to man's estate, and is King of Navarre, the Guises will find in him a very different opponent to deal with than the leaders of the Huguenots have been so far. "The Admiral is so honest and loyal and truthful, himself, that he is ill fitted to match the subtlety of the queen mother, or the deceit and falsehood of the Guises. The Queen of Navarre is a heroine and a saint but, although a wise woman, she is no match for intriguers. Conde was a gallant soldier, but he hated politics. "Henry of Navarre will be an opponent of another sort. When I first knew him, I thought him the frankest and simplest of young princes; and that is what most think him, still. But I am sure he is much more than that. Having been about his person for months, and being the youngest of his companions--most of whom were stern, earnest Huguenot nobles--he was a great deal with me, and talked with me as he did not with the others. It seems to me that he has two characters: the one what he seems to be--light hearted, merry, straightforward, and outspoken; the other thoughtful, astute, ambitious, and politic, studying men closely, and adapting himself to their moods. "I don't pretend to understand him at all--he is altogether beyond me; but I am sure he will be a great leader, some day. I think you would understand him better than I should, and I know he thinks so, too. Of course, you had your own duties all through the campaign, and saw but little of him; but more than once he said: "'I wish I had your English cousin with me. I like you much, Laville; but your cousin is more like myself, and I should learn much of him. You are brave and merry and good-tempered, and so is he; but he has a longer head than you have,'--which I know is quite true--'you would be quite content to spend your life at court, Francois; where you would make a good figure, and would take things as they come. He would not. If he did not like things he would intrigue, he would look below the surface, he would join a party, he would be capable of waiting, biding his time. I am only seventeen, Francois; but it is of all things the most important for a prince to learn to read men, and to study their characters, and I am getting on. "'Your cousin is not ambitious. He would never conspire for his own advantage, but he would be an invaluable minister and adviser, to a prince in difficulties. The Admiral meant well, but he was wrong in refusing to let me have Philip Fletcher. When I am my own master I will have him, if I can catch him; but I do not suppose that I shall, because of that very fault of not being ambitious. He has made his own plans, and is bent, as he told me, on returning to England; and nothing that I can offer him will, I am sure, alter his determination. But it is a pity, a great pity.' "By all this you see, Philip, that those who think the Prince of Navarre merely a merry, careless young fellow, who is likely to rule his little kingdom in patriarchal fashion; and to trouble himself with nothing outside, so long as his subjects are contented and allowed to worship in their own way, are likely to find themselves sorely mistaken. However, if you come over soon, you will be able to judge for yourself. "The Queen of Navarre saw a great deal of the countess, my mother, when they were at La Rochelle together; and has invited her to pay her a visit at Bearn, and the prince has requested me to accompany her. Of course if you come over you will go with us, and will be sure of a hearty welcome from Henry. We shall have some good hunting, and there is no court grandeur, and certainly no more state than we have at our chateau. In fact, my good mother is a much more important personage, there, than is Jeanne of Navarre at Bearn." This letter hastened Philip's departure. The prospect of hunting in the mountains of Navarre was a pleasant one. He liked the young prince; and had, in the short time he had been his companion, perceived that there was much more in him than appeared on the surface; and that, beside his frank bonhomie manner, there was a fund of shrewdness and common sense. Moreover, without being ambitious, it is pleasant for a young man to know that one, who may some day be a great prince, has conceived a good opinion of him. He took Francois' letter down to his uncle Gaspard, and read portions of it to him. Gaspard sat thoughtful, for some time, after he had finished. "It is new to me," he said at last. "I believed the general report that Henry of Navarre was a frank, careless young fellow, fond of the chase, and, like his mother, averse to all court ceremony; likely enough to make a good soldier, but without ambition, and without marked talent. If what Francois says is true--and it seems that you are inclined to agree with him--it may make a great difference in the future of France. The misfortune of the Huguenots, hitherto, has been that they have been ready to fall into any trap that the court of France might set for them and, on the strength of a few hollow promises, to throw away all the advantages they had gained by their efforts and courage, in spite of their experience that those promises were always broken, as soon as they laid down their arms. "In such an unequal contest they must always be worsted and, honest and straightforward themselves, they are no match for men who have neither truth nor conscience. If they had but a leader as politic and astute as the queen mother and the Guises, they might possibly gain their ends. If Henry of Navarre turns out a wise and politic prince, ready to match his foes with their own weapons, he may win for the Huguenots what they will never gain with their own swords. "But mind you, they will hardly thank him for it. My wife and your mother would be horrified were I to say that, as a Catholic, Henry of Navarre would be able to do vastly more, to heal the long open sore and to secure freedom of worship for the Huguenots, than he ever could do as a Huguenot. Indeed, I quite agree with what he says, that as a Huguenot he can never hold the throne of France." Philip uttered an exclamation of indignation. "You cannot think, uncle, that he will ever change his religion?" "I know nothing about him, beyond what you and your cousin say, Philip. There are Huguenots, and Huguenots. There are men who would die at the stake, rather than give up one iota of their faith. There are men who think that the Reformed faith is better and purer than the Catholic, but who nevertheless would be willing to make considerable concessions, in the interest of peace. You must remember that, when princes and princesses marry, they generally embrace the faith of their husbands; and when, lately, Queen Elizabeth was talking of marrying the Prince of Anjou, she made it one of the conditions that he should turn Protestant, and the demand was not considered to be insurmountable. It may be that the time will come when Henry of Navarre may consider the throne of France, freedom of worship, and a general peace, cheaply purchased at the cost of attending mass. If he does so, doubtless the Huguenots would be grieved and indignant; but so far as they are concerned, it would be the best thing. But of course, we are only talking now of what he might do, should nought but his religion stand between him and the throne of France. As King of Navarre, simply, his interest would be all the other way, and he would doubtless remain a staunch Huguenot. "Of course, Philip, I am speaking without knowing this young prince. I am simply arguing as to what an astute and politic man, in his position, not over earnest as to matters of faith, would be likely to do." Three days later, Philip rode to London with Pierre and embarked for La Rochelle. His uncle had amply supplied him with funds, but his father insisted upon his taking a handsome sum from him. "Although you did not require much money before, Philip--and Gaspard told me that you did not draw, from his agent at La Rochelle, a third of the sum he had placed for you in his hands--it will be different now. You had no expenses before, save the pay of your men, and the cost of their food and your own; but in time of peace there are many expenses, and I would not that you should be, in any way, short of money. You can place the greater portion of it in the hands of Maitre Bertram, and draw it as you require. At any rate, it is better in your hands than lying in that chest in the corner. Your mother and I have no need for it, and it would take away half her pleasure in her work, were the earnings not used partly for your advantage." The ship made a quick run to La Rochelle, and the next morning Philip rode for Laville. He had not been there since the battle of Moncontour; and although he knew that it had been burnt by the Royalists, shortly afterwards, it gave him a shock to see, as he rode through the gate, how great a change had taken place. The central portion had been repaired, but the walls were still blackened with smoke. The wings stood empty and roofless, and the ample stables, storehouses, and buildings for the retainers had disappeared. His aunt received him with great kindness, and Francois was delighted to see him again. "Yes, it is a change, Philip," the countess said, as she saw his eyes glancing round the apartment. "However, I have grown accustomed to it, and scarce notice it now. Fortunately I have ample means for rebuilding the chateau, for I have led a quiet life for some years; and as the count my husband, being a Huguenot, was not near the court from the time the troubles began, our revenues have for a long time been accumulating; and much of it has been sent to my sister's husband, and has been invested by him in England. There Francois agrees with me that it should remain. "There is at present peace here, but who can say how long it will last? One thing is certain, that should war break out again, it will centre round La Rochelle; and I might be once more forced to leave the chateau at the mercy of the Royalists. It would, then, be folly to spend a crown upon doing more than is sufficient for our necessities. We only keep such retainers as are absolutely necessary for our service. There are but eight horses in the stables, the rest are all out on the farms and, should the troubles recommence, we shall soon find riders for them." "You have just arrived in time, Philip," Francois said presently, "for we start at the end of this week for Bearn and, although you could have followed us, I am right glad that you have arrived in time to ride with us. All your men are still here." "I saw Eustace and Henri, as I rode in," Philip said. "The other two work in the garden. Of course, their days for fighting are over. They could doubtless strike a blow in defence of the chateau, but they have not recovered sufficiently from their wounds ever to ride as men-at-arms again. However, two will suffice for your needs, at present. "I shall take four of my own men, for the country is still far from safe for travelling. Many of the disbanded soldiers have turned robbers and, although the royal governors hunt down and string up many, they are still so numerous that travellers from one town to another always journey in strong parties, for protection. "How did Pierre get on, in England?" "He was glad to return here again, Francois; although he got on well enough, as our house servants are French, as are also many of those on the farm, and he became quite a favourite with every one. But he is of a restless nature, and grew tired of idleness." Three days later, the party set out from Laville. The countess rode on horseback, and her female attendant en croupe behind one of the troopers. They journeyed by easy stages, stopping sometimes at hostelries in the towns, but more often at chateaux belonging to gentlemen known to the countess or her son. They several times came upon groups of rough-looking men; but the two gentlemen, their servants, and the six fully-armed retainers were a force too formidable to be meddled with, and they arrived safely at Bearn. The royal abode was a modest building, far less stately than was Laville, before its ruin. It stood a short distance out of the town, where they had left the men-at-arms, with instructions to find lodgings for themselves and their horses. As they arrived at the entrance, Prince Henri himself ran down the steps, in a dress as plain as that which would be worn by an ordinary citizen. "Welcome to Bearn," he said. "It is a modest palace, countess; and I am a much less important person, here, than when I was supposed to be commanding our army." He assisted her to alight, and then rang a bell. A man came round from the back of the house, and took the horse from Pierre, who was holding it; while Henri entered the house with the countess. A minute later, he ran out from the house again. "Now that I have handed over the countess to my mother, I can speak to you both," he said heartily. "I am pleased to see you, Francois, and you too, Monsieur Philip." "My cousin insisted on my coming with him, prince, and assured me that you would not be displeased at the liberty. But of course, I intend to quarter myself in the town." "You will do no such thing," the prince said. "We are poor in Bearn, as poor as church mice; but not so poor that we cannot entertain a friend. Your bedroom is prepared for you." Philip looked surprised. "You don't suppose," the prince said, laughing, "that people can come and go, in this kingdom of ours, without being noticed. We are weak, and for that very reason we must be on our guard. Half the people who come here come for a purpose. They come from the king, or from Philip of Spain, or from the Guises, and most of them mean mischief of some sort. So you see, we like to know beforehand and, unless they ride very fast, we are sure to get twenty-four hours' notice before they arrive. "Then, you see, if we want a little more time, a horse may cast its shoe, or some of the baggage may be missing, or perhaps an important paper somehow gets mislaid. It is curious how often these things happen. Then, when they arrive here they find that I have, as usual, gone off for a fortnight's hunting among the mountains; and that, perhaps, my mother has started for Nerac. "We heard yesterday morning that you had crossed the frontier, and that the countess had with her her son, and a big young Englishman, whose identity I had no difficulty in guessing." "And we met with no misfortunes by the way, prince," Francois said, smiling. "No," the prince laughed, "these things do not happen always." They had so far stood on the steps, chatting. The two servants had followed the lackey, with their own and their masters' horses. The prince led the way indoors, and they were heartily welcomed by the queen, who kept no more state at Bearn than would be observed by any petty nobleman in France. On the following day, the two friends started with the prince for the mountains; and were away for three weeks, during which time they hunted the wild boar, killed several wolves, and shot five or six wild goats. They were attended only by two or three huntsmen, and their three personal servants. They slept sometimes in the huts of shepherds, or charcoal burners; sometimes in the forest, in spite of the cold, which was often severe. "What do you say about this marriage which is being arranged for me?" the prince asked suddenly, one night, as they were sitting by a huge fire in the forest. "It ought to be a great thing for the Reformed religion, if it is agreeable to your highness," Francois said cautiously. "A politic answer, Monsieur de Laville. "What say you, Philip?" "It is a matter too deep for me to venture an opinion," Philip said. "There is doubtless much to be said, on both sides. For example--you are a fisherman, prince?" "Only moderately so, Philip; but what has that to do with it?" "I would say, sir, that when a fisherman hooks an exceedingly large fish, it is just possible that, instead of landing it, the fish may pull him into the water." The prince laughed. "You have hit it exactly, Monsieur Philip. That is just the way I look at it. Marguerite of Valois is, indeed, a very big fish compared with the Prince of Bearn; and it is not only she who would pull, but there are others, and even bigger fish, who would pull with her. My good mother has fears that, if I once tasted the gaieties of the court of France, I should be ruined, body and soul. "Now I have rather an inclination for the said gaieties, and that prospect does not terrify me as it does her. But there are things which alarm me, more than gaieties. There is the king who, except when he occasionally gets into a rage, and takes his own course, is but a tool in the hands of Catharine de Medici. There is Anjou, who made a jest of the dead body of my uncle Conde. There are Lorraine and the Guises, there are the priests, and there is the turbulent mob of Paris. It seems to me that, instead of being the fisherman, I should be like a very small fish, enclosed in a very strong net." And he looked thoughtfully into the fire. "The king is, at present, with us; but his plighted word is worth nothing." "But once married," Francois said, "you would have the princess on your side, and being then brother-in-law to the king, you would be safe from attack." "The king has no great love for his own brothers," Henri said; "but I am not supposing that even Charles would lay hands on me, after inviting me to his court to marry his sister. He would not venture upon that, before the eyes of all Europe. It is the strain and the pressure that I fear. A girl who is sent to a nunnery, however much she may hate becoming a nun, can no more escape than a fly from the meshes of a spider. I doubt not that it seems, to all the Huguenots of France, that for me to marry Marguerite of Valois would be more than a great victory won for their cause; but I have my doubts. However, in a matter like this I am not a free agent. "The Huguenot lords are all delighted at the prospect. My mother is still undecided. You see, I am practically as much in a net, here, as I shall be at Paris, if this marriage is made. I am rather glad the decision does not rest with me. I shall simply go with the stream; some day, perhaps, I shall be strong enough to swim against it. I hope that, at any rate, if I ride to Paris to marry Marguerite of Valois, you will both accompany me." <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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