been of late treated wears a strangely
suspicious air. Sudden and secret is the blow like to be, and we cannot
be too much on our guard. Therefore remember, my young friends both,
that your danger or death would fall heavily on those ye love and honour
at home.'

So saying, he left the two youths, unwilling to seek further confidence,
and Berenger held his last consultation with Sidney, to whom he gave
directions for making full explanation to Walsingham in his absence, and
expediting Mr. Adderley's return to England. Osbert alone was to go to
the Louvre with him, after having seen the five English grooms on board
the little decked market-vessel on the Seine, which was to await the
fugitives. Berenger was to present himself in the palace as in his
ordinary court attendance, and, contriving to elude notice among the
throng who were there lodged, was to take up his station at the foot of
the stairs leading to the apartments of ladies, whence Eustacie was to
descend at about eleven o'clock, with her maid Veronique. Landry Osbert
was to join them from the lackey's hall below, where he had a friend,
and the connivance of the porter at the postern opening towards the
Seine had been secured.

Sidney wished much to accompany him to the palace, if his presence could
be any aid or protection, but on consideration it was decided that his
being at the Louvre was likely to attract notice to Ribaumont's delaying
there. The two young men therefore shook hands and parted, as youths who
trusted that they had begun a lifelong friendship, with mutual promises
to write to one another--the one, the adventures of his flight; the
other, the astonishment it would excite. And auguries were exchanged of
merry meetings in London, and of the admiration the lovely little wife
would excite at Queen Elizabeth's court.

Then, with an embrace such as English friends then gave, they separated
at the gate; and Sidney stood watching, as Berenger walked free and bold
down the street, his sword at his side, his cloak over one shoulder, his
feathered cap on one side, showing his bright curling hair, a sunshiny
picture of a victorious bridegroom--such a picture as sent Philip
Sidney's wits back to Arcadia.

It was not a day of special state, but the palace was greatly crowded.
The Huguenots were in an excited mood, inclined to rally round Henry of
Navarre, whose royal title made him be looked on as is a manner their
monarch, though his kingdom had been sw