learned in the Paris _salles_.

But suddenly D'Epernon checked himself. Then he laughed.

"No," he said; "after all, why should we fight? We may need each other
one day, and there is no honour in killing a bantam, even if he hath a
left-hand strain of kingly blood in him!"

"Left-hand!" cried the Abbe John: "you lie in your throat. My blood is
infinitely more dexter than your own, and I make a better use of it! I
am no mignon, at least."

Now this was a bitter taunt indeed, and even the tanned face of the
King's warlike favourite flushed.

"As to mignons," he said, "you look much more like one yourself, young
cockerel. I have overly many scars on my cheeks for the trade. And this
is, I presume, your sister--to judge by the resemblance?" The Duke
turned to Claire, who had been looking at him with a certain involuntary
admiration. "What, no? Your niece, you say, my good Sorbonnist? I am not
sure but that, as a strict Catholic, I must object. The age is scarce
canonical!"

"I am no priest," said Doctor Anatole, roughly, for this touched him on
the raw. "I am only the Professor of Eloquence attached to the faculty
of philosophy. And I have the honour to inform you that I travel with my
niece, to put her under the care of my mother at her house near to
Collioure, in Roussillon."

"What!" cried the Duke, "now here is another of the suspicions which
awake in the mind of the most guileless of men. Here we have a Bourbon,
next-of-kin to the Cardinal himself, together with a Professor of the
Sorbonne (that hotbed of sedition), travelling towards the dominions of
the Demon of the South--of Philip of Spain! As a good subject, how am I
to know that you are not on your way to stir up another rebellion
against the King my master?"

It was then that Claire spoke for the first time.

"Sir," she said quietly, but looking full at the Duke with her
eyes--dark green eyes the colour of jade, with little golden flashlets
floating about in them, "I vouch for my friends. They are loyal and
peaceful; I who speak am the only Huguenot. You can take and burn me if
you like!"

The great Duke d'Epernon stood a moment aghast, as if the hunted hare
had turned upon him in defiance. Then he slid off his helmet, and
saluted, bareheaded.

"_Ma belle damoselle_," he said, "you may be the niece of a Doctor of
the Sorbonne and at the same time a Huguenot. These are good reasons
enough for carrying you to the castle of His Majesty. But be
comfor