at
cry of "Long live Crillon! the brave Crillon!"--a cry which rose from a
score of throats. Then and onwards till the day of his death, many years
later, he was known throughout France by no other name. The great king's
letter to him, "Hang yourself, brave Crillon. We have fought to-day, and
you were not there!" is not yet forgotten--nay, never will be
forgotten--in a land where, more than in other, the memories of the past
have been swept away.

He rose from the table, bowing grandly, superbly, arrogantly. "Adieu, M.
Berthaud--for the present," he said; and had he not seemed too proud to
threaten, a threat might have underlain his words. "Adieu, gentlemen,"
he continued, throwing on his cloak. "A good night to you, and equal
fortune. M. de Bazan, I will trouble you to accompany me? You have
exchanged, let me tell you, one taskmaster for another."

The young man's heart was too full for words, and making no attempt to
speak, or to thank his benefactor, before those who had seen the deed,
he followed him from the room. Crillon did not speak or halt until they
stood in the Rue des Fosses; nor even there, for after a momentary
hesitation he passed through it, and led the way to the middle of the
open space before the Louvre. Here he stopped, and touched his companion
on the breast. "Now," he said, "we can speak with freedom, my friend.
You wish to thank me? Do not. Listen to me instead. I have saved your
life, ay, that have I; but I hold it at my will? Say, is it not so?
Well, I, too, in my turn wish you to do something for me."

"Anything!" said the young man, passionately. The sight of the other's
strange daring had stirred his untried nature to its depths. "You have
but to ask and have."

"Very well," Crillon answered, gravely, "be it so. I take you at your
word. Though, mind you, M. de Bazan, 'tis no light thing I ask. It is
something," pausing, "from which I shrink myself."

"Then it is nothing you ask me to do," Bazan answered.

"Not so," the courtier replied, though he looked far from ill-pleased by
the compliment. "Listen. To-morrow the king sups at the house of Madame
de Sauves. I shall be with him. Her house is in the Rue de l'Arbre Sec,
two doors from the convent. Here are a hundred crowns. Dress yourself so
that you may appear as one of my gentlemen, and wait near the gates till
I come. Then follow me in, and at supper stand behind my chair, as the
others of my suite will stand."

"And is that all?" Ba