a feverish attack, one night
when D'Aubigne and D'Armagnac were sitting up with him, his resolution
was taken; and on the first hunting day after his recovery, he, with
these two, the Baron de Rosny and about thirty more of his suite, had
galloped away, and had joined the Monsieur and the Prince of Conde at
Alencon. He had abjured the Catholic faith, declared that nothing except
ropes should bring him back to Paris, and that he left there the mass
and his wife--the first he could dispense with, the last he meant to
have; and he was now on his way to Parthenay to meet his sister, whom
he had sent Rosny to demand. By the time Berenger had heard this, he had
succeeded in finding honest Rotrou, who was in a state of great triumph,
and readily undertook to give Osbert shelter, and as soon as he should
have recovered to send him to head-quarters with some young men who
he knew would take the field as soon as they learnt that the King of
Navarre had set up his standard. Even the inroads made into the good
farmer's stores did not abate his satisfaction in entertaining the prime
hope of the Huguenot cause; but Berenger advanced as large a sum as
he durst out of his purse, under pretext of the maintenance of Osbert
during his stay at the Grange. He examined Rotrou upon his subsequent
knowledge of Isaac Gardon and Eutacie, but nothing had been heard of
them since their departure, now nearly three years back, except a dim
rumour that they had been seen at the Synod of Montauban.

'Well, my friend,' said Philip, when about to remount, 'this will do
rather better than a headlong gallop to Rochelle with Nid-de-Merle at
our heels.'

'If M. le Baron is safe, it is well,' said Aime shortly.

'Is Selinville there?' said Berenger, coming up. 'Here, let me take you
to the King of Navarre: he knew your family in Lauguedoc.'

'No, no,' petulantly returned the boy. 'What am I that he should notice
me? It is M. de Ribaumont whom I follow, not him or his cause.'

'Boy,' said Berenger, dismayed, 'remember, I have answered for you.'

'I am no traitor,' proudly answered the strange boy, and Berenger was
forced to be thus satisfied, though intending to watch him closely.

CHAPTER XL. THE SANDS OF OLONNE

Is it the dew of night
That on her glowing cheek
Shines in the moonbeam?--
Oh, she weeps, she weeps,
And the good angel that abandoned her
At her hell baptism, by her tears drawn down
Resumes his char