in answer to my summons a servant opened the door.
No, the ladies had not retired; they were still downstairs.

Perhaps my face betrayed the miserable truth; perhaps some chord of
sympathy passed from me to them--I know not. They jumped up and came
forward with a sudden fear in their eyes. I had already bidden them
farewell, and they did not expect to see me again, until I rode from the
city in the morning.

My mother gazed at me earnestly, but said nothing; Jeanne cried
impulsively, "What is it, Edmond? There is bad news! Oh, Edmond, is it
about our father?"

"You must be brave," I said gently, taking a hand of each, "very brave.
Yes, I have received bad news from St. Jean d'Angely. There has been a
fierce fight; our father headed a sortie, and has been seriously hurt.
He was the bravest man there, every one says so from the king downwards.
Even his enemies praise him."

"Edmond," said my mother quietly, "we are strong enough to bear the
truth--is your father dead?"

Words were not needed to answer that question; the answer was plain in
my face, and those two dear ones understood. Oh, it was pitiful to see
their white faces, and the misery in their eyes! And yet I could feel a
pride, too, in their wonderful bravery. They wept silently in each;
other's arms, and presently my mother said softly, "It is God's will;
let us pray to Him for strength to bear our loss."

I stayed with them for four days, being I believe of some comfort in
that sorrowful time, and then my mother herself suggested that I should
return to my duty.

"You belong to the Cause, my son," she said, "and not to us. It is a
heavy trial to let you go, but your father would have wished it. Perhaps
the good God, in His mercy, may guard you through all dangers, and we
may meet again. But, if not, we are in' His hands. Tell Felix we thank
him for his kind message."

"Roger, too, will grieve for our loss," I said. "He admired my father
greatly."

The Englishmen had accompanied the Admiral, so that Roger had left
Rochelle when the news arrived.

Early on the morning fixed for my departure I wished my mother and
sister good-bye, and returned to the hotel. Coligny was still at
Saintes, and I waited for a letter that the commandant had requested me
to deliver to him. I had gone into the courtyard to see about my horse
when a man, riding in, exclaimed, "Oh, I am in time, monsieur; I feared
you had gone."

"Jacques!" I cried with delight, "surely you