Rose D'Albret; or, Troublous Times. G. P. R. James

to his room when he goes to change his clothes. I must have some talk with him; the boy must know how he stands here--do you understand?"

      Estoc nodded his head, and took his departure without reply.

      In the meantime the priest had held out his hand to the young Baron de Montigni, saying, "Though the last to wish you joy on your return, Sir, I do so sincerely, and trust you have fared well during your absence."

      "Ah! good father," exclaimed the young Baron, "in this dim light I did not know you; but I am right glad to see you again, and have to thank you for many a wise counsel and much good instruction, by which I hope I have not failed to profit. Have you been well since last we parted?"

      "As well as I could wish to be," replied the priest; "not that I am sure that high health is as great a blessing as men think. Like wealth and many another of this world's gifts, it sometimes leads us to forget our dependence on the Giver."

      "I trust not to a well-regulated mind," said De Montigni; "and I am sure, to you it could be no source of evil."

      The old man looked down and shut his teeth fast together; and Monsieur de Liancourt, wishing to bring a scene which was not altogether pleasing to him to a close as speedily as possible, told De Montigni that the evening meal would be ready in half an hour, so that he had but time to change his riding-dress.

      The young nobleman lingered for a few moments, however, conversing with those around, and marking many things which the actors therein little knew that he observed. Chazeul had kept close to the side of Rose d'Albret since his conversation with the Count had come to an end, and thrice he had endeavoured to engage her attention to himself, but in vain. At this moment, however, he said with some degree of irritation in his tone, "You seem very much occupied, sweet Rose."

      "So I am, Monsieur de Chazeul," she answered aloud, "and interested too.--Are you not so?"

      "Oh, certainly," he replied, "these receptions are always interesting ceremonies."

      "Not to those, with whom they are ceremonies," said Rose d'Albret; and while Chazeul bit his lip, and his brow contracted moodily, she turned to speak with father Walter de la Tremblade.

      De Montigni was conversing, in the meantime with his two uncles; but he had heard all, and marked particularly the words "Monsieur de Chazeul;" and whatever other effect might be produced upon him, the immediate result was to throw him into a fit of thought, and make him answer some of Monsieur de Liancourt's questions at random.

      "What are you thinking about, Louis?" cried the old commander; "my brother asks when you left Padua; and you say, five years."

      "He is tired and exhausted," said Monsieur de Liancourt; "he had better go and take off these heavy boots, cool his head and hands in some fresh water, and come down to supper, where we will refresh him with a good cup of wine."

      "I am tired," said the young nobleman, "for I have ridden more than twenty leagues to-day, so that I will take your advice, my good uncle, and find my way down to the supper-hall when I hear the trumpet."

      Thus saying, he retired, passing through the vestibule, where in one of the deep windows he saw his old friend Estoc, still busily talking to the good farmer Chasseron. De Montigni did not stop, however, but merely said, as he passed by, "Take care of him, Estoc, and seek him out a comfortable room."

      "That I will, Sir," replied Estoc, and continued his conversation.

      The first meeting between the two who now stood together in the window, had been somewhat curious. On quitting the hall, the old soldier had entered the vestibule with his usual wide and hasty strides; and, as that side of the château was turned from the sun, so that it was darker than most other parts of the house, he might not have seen the man he came in search of, who was seated on a bench near the window, had not his attention been called by a voice pronouncing the word, 'Estoc.'

      Turning quickly round he advanced towards him, and gazed in his face, saying, "You seem to know me, Sir, and methinks I have seen you before."

      "You have, my good friend," replied Chasseron; "we have met twice; do you not remember Michael Chasseron?"

      "I remember Peter Chasseron, right will," replied the old soldier; "he took me prisoner at St. Jean, and treated me right kindly; but you are not the same," and while he spoke he continued to examine the countenance of his companion with great attention.

      "And when he had taken you," replied the farmer, "he brought you to the person who was in command of the troop. That was his brother. I am the same. Do you recollect me now?"

      Estoc gazed at him again, and then answered in a significant tone, "I think I do; but it is twelve years ago, and you were a young man then. Come into the window and let me look at you."

      "I am the same I tell you," replied Chasseron, moving into the window; "there, take as good a look as you like."

      Estoc did not fail to do so; then cast down his eyes, and bit the side of his hand with his teeth. "Well," he said, at length, "you are a bold man to venture here, all things considered. Do you not know that we are all Catholics in this place, and Monsieur de Chazeul one of the foremost of the League, who would think no more of putting you to death, be the result what it would, than of sitting down to his supper?"

      "Parbleu! I know it right well," replied Chasseron; "and that is the reason I waited for you here. I am sure that you are not one who would betray me, and as for your leader, the good commander, I would put my life in his hands without the slightest fear."

      "That you might, that you might," said the old soldier; "and it will be better to tell him too. But do none of these people know you? Some of them must have seen you. Why, the very name of Chasseron, if they had recollected, was enough to make the Marquis cut your throat. He would no more hesitate to roast a Huguenot alive in that court-yard, than to kill a stag or a wolf;" and, as he spoke, he looked over his shoulder to see that no one was coming.

      "He would need two or three to help him," replied Chasseron; "and I felt sure that, if I trusted to the young Baron's word, I should find those within who would take the part of honour. But none of these men have seen me for years; and when they did, 'twas but for a moment. You know in those days I came and went like the lightning. As for the name of Chasseron, it has long been forgotten too.--But hark ye, Estoc, you love this young Lord it seems? Now it is for his sake that I have come hither; not for a night's lodging, which I could obtain where I chose. I have heard at C[oe]uvres that they are playing him false here; and that there are plans afoot for doing him wrong in several ways. Perhaps I may aid him, if I know the facts; and I would fain do so for his good father's memory. He was as high and honourable a gentleman as any in France. Though adversaries, we were not enemies, and I owed him something too for courtesies shown when, God help me, there were few to show them."

      "Ah! I wish my poor Lord could hear those words," cried Estoc. "But you are right, Sir, you are right. They are playing poor Louis false. Wait a bit, and you shall hear more in the course of the evening; and if you can help him, though I doubt it, God will bless you, were you twenty times a heretic."

      "Parbleu! you must be speedy with your tidings, Master Estoc," said Chasseron, "for I must be away before nine tomorrow. I have got my wheat to dispose of," he added; "a weighty matter in my new trade."

      The old soldier laughed. "I should think, Sir, you would make but a poor farmer," he replied; "but you shall have all my news this very night. Ha! here comes the young Lord. As soon as he is gone by, I will tell the good old commander that you are in the house; and you shall see him yourself in his room."

      Before Chasseron could reply, De Montigni passed through the vestibule, as I have before described; but the moment he was gone the old soldier added, "We are to talk with the poor lad while he is dressing, and if I can so manage it, you shall be called to take a part; if not, I will find the means ere night be over. Here come the rest--let them pass, and then wait for me. I will be back with you in a minute."

      As he spoke, all those whom we have seen conversing in the hall passed through the vestibule, with the exception of Rose d'Albret, who retired by another