estinies and human frailties,
never was seen on any man's face save this.

It was "The Bearnais"--it was Henry of Navarre himself.

So long as the singing went on Jean-aux-Choux stood erect like the rest.
Then all knelt at the prayer--the King also with them--on the hard floor
under that low, black pent-roof, while the pastor prayed to the God of
Sabaoth for the long-hoped-for victory of "His Own."

Beside "His Own" knelt Jean-aux-Choux, a look of infinite solemnity on
his face, while the grave Genevan "cult" went quietly on, as if there
had not been a Catholic or an enemy within fifty miles. The minister
ceased. The King, without lingering on his knees as did the others, rose
rapidly, mechanically dusting his black cloth breeches and even the
rough carter's stockings which covered his shapely calves.

He sighed sadly, as his keen, quick-glancing eyes passed over the
kneeling forms of the Huguenots. He did not take very kindly to the
lengthy services and plain-song ritual of those whom he led as never
soldiers had been led before.

"Hal Guise hath the Religion,
While I need absolution."

The Bearnais hummed one of the camp songs made against himself by his
familiar Gascons, which always afforded him the most amusement--next,
that is, to that celebrated one which recounted his successes on other
fields than those of war. They were bold rascals, those Gascons of his,
but they followed him well, and, after all, their idea of humour was his
own.

"Ha, long red-man," he called out presently, when all had risen decently
from their knees, "you made sport for us at Nerac, I remember, and then
went to my good brother-in-law's court in the suite of Queen Marguerite.
What has brought you here?"

A tall man, dark and slim, leaned over and whispered in the King's ear.

"Ah," said the Bearnais, nodding his head, "I remember the reports. They
were most useful. But the fellow is a scholar, then?"

"He is of Geneva," said the man at the King's ear, "and is learned in
Latin and Greek, also in Hebrew!"

"No wonder he does his business with credit"--the King smiled as he
spoke; "there is no fool like a learned fool!"

With his constant good humour and easy ways with all and sundry, Henry
of Navarre stepped forward and clapped Jean-aux-Choux on the shoulder.

"Go and talk to the pastor, D'Aubigne," said the King to his tall, dark
companion; "I and this good fellow will chat awhile. Sit down, man. I am
not Harry of Na