son cloak
with an impatient gesture, and suddenly shone forth in a dazzling array
of steel breast-plate and chain armour, all worked and damascened with
gold.

"Epernon--Epernon--for my life, Epernon!" muttered the Abbe John under
his breath to the Professor of Eloquence; "we could not have fallen on
worse!"

The King's reigning favourite and boldest soldier rode straight up to
them, with the careless ease which became the handsomest man in the
kingdoms of France and Navarre.

"What have we here?" he demanded. "A pretty girl, two holy men, and a
scarecrow! You are Genevists--Calvin's folk--Huguenots! This will not
do; a fair maid's place is in a king's court. I will escort her thither.
My wife will have great pleasure in her society, and will make her one
of her own or of the Queen's maids-of-honour. From what I hear, her
elder Majesty hath great need of such!"

"Not more than His Majesty has need of men of honour about him," cried
the Abbe John fiercely--"aye, and has had all his life!"

"Hola, young cock-sparrow, clad in the habit of the hoodie-crow!" said
D'Epernon, turning upon him, "from what stable-heap do you come that you
chirp so loud?"

"From that same heap on which you serve as stable-boy, my Lord Duke!"
said the Abbe John.

The Duke's brow darkened. He put his hand quickly to his gold-hilted
rapier.

"Ah, pray do," sneered the Abbe John; "follow your inclination. Let the
bright steel out. Get a man to hold our horses, and--have at you, my
good Gascon!"

By this time the Duke d'Epernon's gentlemen were spurring angrily
forward, but he halted them with a wave of his hand, without turning
round in his saddle or taking his eyes off John's face.

"What is your name?" he demanded, his brows twitching so quickly that
the eye could scarce follow their movements.

"I am John d'Albret, nephew of the Cardinal Bourbon and----"

"Cousin of the Bearnais?" sneered the Duke, his eye glittering.

"Student at the Sorbonne!" said the Abbe John firmly. "All the same, if
clerk I am, I am no poor clerk, and so you will find me--if, waiving my
royal blood, I consent to put my steel to yours upon the sward. Come,
down with you--and fall on!"

Now the Duke d'Epernon was anything rather than a coward. He made a
motion as if to dismount, and there is little doubt but that his
intention was to match his long-trained skill and success as a swordsman
against the Abbe John's mastery of the latest science of sword-play