ded amidst a cold and
chilling silence.

"This may be a royal welcome," laughed one of my neighbours, "'tis
anything but a friendly one. Faith, I am beginning to think already that
we shall have as much need of our swords in Paris as ever we had at
Arnay-le-Duc."

"Bah!" cried Felix; "who wants the plaudits of a mob? These people are
but puppets, and the strings are pulled by the priests."

"The citizens are hardly reconciled yet to the new order of things,"
remarked one of Monseigneur's gentlemen; "but the strangeness will soon
wear off, and you will be as welcome in Paris as in Rochelle. It is not
strange that at present Anjou is their favourite; you must give them
time."

The speaker may have been right, but the hostile attitude with which the
citizens met us became stronger, when, having escorted the princes to
the palace, we broke up into small groups and rode towards our various
dwellings.

The sullen silence gave place to angry murmurs, and even to open
threats, especially when we passed the crosses and images at the corners
of the streets without raising our hats.

"Well," I said, as, entering the courtyard of the hotel, we gave our
animals to Jacques, "the king may desire the marriage, but it certainly
does not meet with the approval of the citizens. In truth, now that
to-day's ceremony is over, I am rather surprised to find myself alive."

"You are not the only one, Le Blanc," said De Guerchy, who was entering
with us; "I expected every moment to hear a cry of 'Kill the Huguenots!'
They say a bad beginning often leads to a good ending; let us hope this
will be a case in proof of it. But I wish the Admiral was in the midst
of us!"

"There lies the danger," I said; "a pistol-shot or the stroke of a
sword, and the streets of Paris will run with blood."

"They will," declared Felix fiercely, "if any harm happens to our
leader!"

When I came to think about these things in after days, it seemed strange
to remember how, through all the time of rejoicing and apparent
friendliness, there ran an uneasy feeling, for which even Henry's
chilling reception by the Parisians was not sufficient to account.

Our first thought in the morning and our last thought at night centred
upon the Admiral's safety. Absolutely fearless, and placing unbounded
confidence in the king's honesty, that chivalrous nobleman behaved as if
he were surrounded by loyal friends. He had consecrated his life to the
welfare of France, and n