hese doors?'

'Of course it would, if you have the influence to obtain one.'

'I have, I have,' cried Berenger, eagerly. 'The King has been my good
friend already. Moreover, my English grandfather will deal with the
Queen. The heiress of our house cannot be left in a foreign nunnery.
Say, sir,' he added, turning to the priest, 'if I went to Lucon at once
know your name, and refuse all dealings with you.'

'She could not do so, if I brought an order from the King.'

'Certainly not.'

'Then to Paris!' And laying his hand on Philip's shoulder, he asked the
boy whether he had understood, ad explained that he must go at once to
Paris--riding post--and obtain the order from the King.

'To Paris--to be murdered again!' said Philip, in dismay.

'They do not spend their time there in murder,' said Berenger. 'And now
is the time, while the savage villain Narcisse is with his master in
Poland. I cannot but go, Philip; we both waste words. You shall take
home a letter to my Lord.'

'I--I go not home without you,' said Philip, doggedly.

'I cannot take you, Phil; I have no warrant.'

'I have warrant for going, though. My father said he was easier about
you with me at your side. Where you go, I go.'

The brothers understood each other's ways so well, that Berenger knew
the intonation in Philip's voice that meant that nothing should make him
give way. He persuaded no more, only took measures for the journey, in
which the kind priest gave him friendly advice. There was no doubt that
the good man pitied him sincerely, and wished him success more than
perhaps he strictly ought to have done, unless as a possible convert.
Of money for the journey there was no lack, for Berenger had brought a
considerable sum, intending to reward all who had befriended Eustacie,
as well as to fit her out for the voyage; and this, perhaps, with
his papers, he had brought ashore to facilitate his entrance into La
Sablerie,--that entrance which, alas! he had found only too easy. He had
therefore only to obtain horses and a guide, and this could be done
at la Motte-Achard, where the party could easily be guided on foot,
or conveyed in a boat if the fog should not set in again, but all the
coast-line of Nissard was dangerous in autumn and winter; nay, even this
very August an old man, with his daughter, her infant, and a donkey, had
been found bewildered between the creeks on a sandbank, where they stood
still and patient, like a picture of the Fligh