had some
books under his arm, to which he clung firmly--though only perhaps by
instinct--notwithstanding the furious air of the men who were
threatening him with death. They were loudly demanding his name, as we
paused opposite them. He either could not or would not give it, but
said several times in his fright that he was going to the College of
Burgundy. Was he a Catholic? they cried. He was silent. With an
oath the man who had hold of his collar lifted up his pike, and
naturally the lad raised the books to guard his face. A cry broke from
Croisette. We rushed forward to stay the blow.

"See! see!" he exclaimed loudly, his voice arresting the man's arm in
the very act of falling. "He has a Mass Book! He has a Mass Book! He
is not a heretic! He is a Catholic!"

The fellow lowered his weapon, and sullenly snatched the books. He
looked at them stupidly with bloodshot wandering eyes, the red cross on
the vellum bindings, the only thing he understood. But it was enough
for him; he bid the boy begone, and released him with a cuff and an
oath.

Croisette was not satisfied with this, though I did not understand his
reason; only I saw him exchange a glance with the lad. "Come, come!"
he said lightly. "Give him his books! You do not want them!"

But on that the men turned savagely upon us. They did not thank us for
the part we had already taken; and this they thought was going too far.
They were half drunk and quarrelsome, and being two to one, and two
over, began to flourish their weapons in our faces. Mischief would
certainly have been done, and very quickly, had not an unexpected ally
appeared on our side.

"Put up! put up!" this gentleman cried in a boisterous voice--he was
already in our midst. "What is all this about? What is the use of
fighting amongst ourselves, when there is many a bonny throat to cut,
and heaven to be gained by it! put up, I say!"

"Who are you?" they roared in chorus.

"The Duke of Guise!" he answered coolly. "Let the gentlemen go, and
be hanged to you, you rascals!"

The man's bearing was a stronger argument than his words, for I am sure
that a stouter or more reckless blade never swaggered in church or
street. I knew him instantly, and even the crew of butchers seemed to
see in him their master. They hung back a few curses at him, but
having nothing to gain they yielded. They threw down the books with
contempt--showing thereby their sense of true religion; and