iness in our welcome.

These public rejoicings, however, could not make me forget that my
position was still very awkward. My stock of money was dwindling, and I
could not expect to live in the Admiral's house for ever; while, as long
as we remained at Rochelle, Henry of Beam's generous promise was not
likely to bear fruit.

Jacques, who paid one or two visits to Le Blanc, reported that the
castle remained closed, and that the tenants on the property had
received orders to pay their rents to the crown. This was bad enough,
but his second piece of Information made my blood hot with anger.

I asked if he had learned anything of Etienne Cordel, and he replied
angrily, "More than enough, monsieur. I shall certainly spit that
insolent upstart one of these days. He is giving himself all the airs of
a grand personage, and boasts openly that before long he will be the
Sieur Le Blanc. He is a serpent, monsieur--a crawling, loathsome, deadly
serpent; his breath pollutes the very air."

"He is no worse than his kind," I replied somewhat bitterly. "He is but
trying to raise himself on the misfortunes of others."

"Worse than that, monsieur. In my opinion it was he who caused the
downfall of your house, for his own wicked ends. Your father's property
was to be his reward for doing Monseigneur's dirty work."

"It is likely enough," I replied, "but we can do nothing without the
Admiral."

A day or two after this conversation--it was as far as I can remember
about the middle of July--Felix came to me in a state of great
excitement.

"Have you heard the news?" he asked. "The king has sent for our chief!"

"For what purpose?"

"He has written a most kindly letter and has promised to follow his
counsel."

"Faith," said I, "it smacks to me of the invitation of the hungry fox to
the plump pullet! I think Coligny will be well advised to remain within
the walls of La Rochelle."

The king's letter was the subject of eager discussion, and almost every
one declared that our beloved chief would run the greatest risk in
accepting the invitation.

"The king may be honest enough, though I doubt it," said one, "but the
Guises are murderers; while as for Monseigneur and his mother, I would
as soon trust to a pack of wolves!"

Queen Joan, Henry of Bearn, young Conde, and all our leaders, though
making use of less blunt speech, were of the same opinion, but the
Admiral cared little for his own safety, when there was a chance of
benefi