an
attack either of battering rams or gunpowder if brought against it.
But the blinds, or shutters, were all closed; the great door itself
looked as though it had not been opened for a century; the knocker--a
Christ upon the cross!--as though it had not been raised for as long a
time.

"Phelypeaux," muttered St. Georges to himself. "Phelypeaux! I know the
name; what do I know of him? Let me think. Ha! I have it. A soldier
like myself. Also another, a brother, a priest, Bishop of
Lodeve--which is my host, I wonder? For choice the soldier, if all is
true of the bishop that is told. _Mon enfant_," turning to the urchin,
"is the marquis soldier or divine?"

The boy laughed, then said:

"Divine, monsieur. But _en retraite_. Oh! _avez ca_--they say droll
things. Only I am young--I do not know." Whereon he grinned. Then he
exclaimed: "_Voila!_ the door is opening."

It was, in truth, or rather a wicket in the door large enough to admit
a man who should stoop, or the urchin by the side of St. Georges; but
certainly by no means large enough to admit of the passage of his
horse if that was also to be entertained for the night.

At that wicket appeared a face, wine-stained and blotchy, but not so
good-humoured-looking as that of the watchman at the southern gate.
Instead, a scowling face, as of a man on whom good liquor had no
improving effect, but, rather, had soured and embittered him.

"What want you?" he asked, staring out moodily at the soldier before
him and at his horse, and observing the great sword, hat, and cloak of
the former with--beneath the latter--its burden; and also the military
trappings of the steed. "What want you?"

"An audience of the marquis. By order of the king. Also food and
lodging by the same authority. _Ma foi!_ if I had my way I should not
demand it. There is a good auberge over there to all appearances,"
nodding his head toward the white-walled inn on the other side of the
_place_, before which hung a bush and on which was painted the whole
length of the house: "_L'Ours de Bourgogne. Logement a pied et a
cheval._" "Doubtless I could be well accommodated."

"Take your horse there, at any rate," said the sour-faced man; "there
is no accommodation for _it_. Then come back. We will see later about
you." And turning to the boy he cried, gesticulating with his hands:
"_Va t'en_. Be off!"

The lad did not wait to be bidden a second time to depart, but
scampered across the open _place_, while St.