trooped off
roaring, "TUES! TUES! Aux Huguenots!" at the top of their voices.

The newcomer thus left with us was Bure--Blaise Bure--the same who only
yesterday, though it seemed months and months back, had lured us into
Bezers' power. Since that moment we had not seen him. Now he had
wiped off part of the debt, and we looked at him, uncertain whether to
reproach him or no. He, however, was not one whit abashed, but
returned our regards with a not unkindly leer.

"I bear no malice, young gentlemen," he said impudently.

"No, I should think not," I answered.

"And besides, we are quits now," the knave continued.

"You are very kind," I said.

"To be sure. You did me a good turn once," he answered, much to my
surprise. He seemed to be in earnest now. "You do not remember it,
young gentleman, but it was you and your brother here"--he pointed to
Croisette--"did it! And by the Pope and the King of Spain I have not
forgotten it!"

"I have," I said.

"What! You have forgotten spitting that fellow at Caylus ten days ago?
CA! SA! You remember. And very cleanly done, too! A pretty stroke!
Well, M. Anne, that was a clever fellow, a very clever fellow. He
thought so and I thought so, and what was more to the purpose the most
noble Raoul de Bezers thought so too. You understand!"

He leered at me and I did understand. I understood that unwittingly I
had rid Blaise Bure of a rival. This accounted for the respectful,
almost the kindly way in which he had--well, deceived us.

"That is all," he said. "If you want as much done for you, let me
know. For the present, gentlemen, farewell!"

He cocked his hat fiercely, and went off at speed the way we had
ourselves been going; humming as he went,

"Ce petit homme tant joli,
Qui toujours cause et toujours rit,
Qui toujours baise sa mignonne
Dieu gard' de mal ce petit homme!"

His reckless song came back to us on the summer breeze. We watched him
make a playful pass at a corpse which some one had propped in ghastly
fashion against a door--and miss it--and go on whistling the same
air--and then a corner hid him from view.

We lingered only a moment ourselves; merely to speak to the boy we had
befriended.

"Show the books if anyone challenges you," said Croisette to him
shrewdly. Croisette was so much of a boy himself, with his fair hair
like a halo about his white, excited face, that the picture of the two,
one advising the other, seemed to