onvert him.
You said, before the apprentices, a word which may set fire to our
house, and roast us all, like fleas in a straw bed."

The mother crossed herself, and sat down silently.

"Now, then, you," said the old man, with a judicial glance at his son,
"explain to me what you were doing on the river with--come closer, that
I may speak to you," he added, grasping his son by the arm, and drawing
him to him--"with the Prince de Conde," he whispered. Christophe
trembled. "Do you suppose the court furrier does not know every face
that frequents the palace? Think you I am ignorant of what is going on?
Monseigneur the Grand Master has been giving orders to send troops to
Amboise. Withdrawing troops from Paris to send them to Amboise when the
king is at Blois, and making them march through Chartres and Vendome,
instead of going by Orleans--isn't the meaning of that clear enough?
There'll be troubles. If the queens want their surcoats, they must
send for them. The Prince de Conde has perhaps made up his mind to kill
Messieurs de Guise; who, on their side, expect to rid themselves of him.
The prince will use the Huguenots to protect himself. Why should the son
of a furrier get himself into that fray? When you are married, and when
you are councillor to the Parliament, you will be as prudent as your
father. Before belonging to the new religion, the son of a furrier ought
to wait until the rest of the world belongs to it. I don't condemn the
Reformers; it is not my business to do so; but the court is Catholic,
the two queens are Catholic, the Parliament is Catholic; we must supply
them with furs, and therefore we must be Catholic ourselves. You shall
not go out from here, Christophe; if you do, I will send you to your
godfather, President de Thou, who will keep you night and day blackening
paper, instead of blackening your soul in company with those damned
Genevese."

"Father," said Christophe, leaning upon the back of the old man's chair,
"send me to Blois to carry that surcoat to Queen Mary and get our money
from the queen-mother. If you do not, I am lost; and you care for your
son."

"Lost?" repeated the old man, without showing the least surprise. "If
you stay here you can't be lost; I shall have my eye on you all the
time."

"They will kill me here."

"Why?"

"The most powerful among the Huguenots have cast their eyes on me
to serve them in a certain matter; if I fail to do what I have just
promised to do, they wi