ovide, in case of necessity."

At noon the next day, the whole of the occupants of the chateau
started for La Rochelle. The tenants, with their cattle and horses
and all their portable property, had left at daybreak; and at
nightfall the countess and her party came up with them. The
encampment was a large one. The women and children slept under the
waggons. The men lay down by fires they had kindled, while a
portion were told off to keep watch over the animals.

The train had swollen considerably since they had started. Most of
the inhabitants of the villages were Huguenots and, as soon as
these heard of the massacres in Paris and elsewhere, they collected
their animals, loaded up their carts, and took the road to the city
of refuge.

After four days' travelling, they entered La Rochelle. The news had
arrived before them, being brought by some of those who had escaped
the massacre, by being lodged without the walls of Paris. The
countess and Claire were received at the house of Monsieur Bertram.
Philip found lodgings near them, and the whole of the inhabitants
vied with each other, in their hospitable reception of the mass of
fugitives.

Claire was completely prostrated by the events through which she
had passed, and Monsieur Bertram's daughter devoted herself to her,
tending her with unwearied care until, after a week in bed, she
began again to gather strength.

The time of the countess was entirely occupied in filling the part
that had, before, been played by Jeanne of Navarre: holding
consultations with the town councillors, going down to the walls
and encouraging the men who were labouring there, and urging on the
people to make every sacrifice in defence of their religion and
homes. She herself set the example, by pawning her jewels and
selling her horses, and devoting the proceeds to the funds raised
for the defence.

She worked with feverish activity, as if to give herself no time
for thought. She was still without news of Francois. Henry of
Navarre and the Prince of Conde had, as was soon known, been
compelled to abjure their religion as the price of their lives. She
was convinced that her son would have refused to buy his life, upon
such conditions. Philip, who had come to regard Francois as a
brother, was equally anxious and, two days after his arrival at the
city, he took Pierre aside.

"Pierre," he said, "I cannot rest here in ignorance of the fate of
my cousin."

"That I can see, master. You ha