; you
and Bellievre will walk a little distance behind us. Be more vigilant
even than usual, for there are strange rumours abroad."

Each trifling incident comes back to me now as vividly as if it happened
yesterday. We went to the Louvre, waited while our chief transacted his
business, and started on the journey home. Presently we met Charles, who
greeted the Admiral affectionately, and the two walked together in the
direction of the tennis-court. Des Pruneaux and De Guerchy joined the
king's attendants; Felix and I followed a few paces in the rear.

At the court Charles and the Duke of Guise made up a match against our
patron's son-in-law, Teligny, and a gentleman whose name I did not know.
The Admiral stood watching the game for some time, but between ten and
eleven o'clock he bade the king adieu and once more started for home. He
walked between Des Pruneaux and De Guerchy, talking cheerfully about the
game, and praising the skill of the king, for Charles was certainly an
accomplished player, superior in my opinion even to Guise.

"Yes," exclaimed Felix, to whom I passed some such remark, and who had
not altogether thrown off his bitterness of the previous day, "if he
were as good a ruler as tennis-player France might have some chance of
happiness."

"Well, he is making good progress even in that!" I replied cheerfully.

I have said that the _hotel_ was in the Rue de l'Arbre Sec, at the
corner of the Rue de Bethisy, and we were passing along the Rue des
Fosses de St. Germain, when a man approached the Admiral with what
looked like a petition. We quickened our pace, but the citizen was an
inoffensive person, and the Admiral, taking the paper, began to read,
walking on slowly the while.

He turned the corner in front of us, and was hidden for an instant from
our view, when we heard a loud report.

"Treachery!" cried my comrade, drawing his sword, and with a rush we
sped round the corner. My heart leaped into my mouth as I realized what
had happened. There was our noble chief, the truest, bravest, most
chivalrous man in France, supported in De Guerchy's arms.

Des Pruneaux, who was stanching the blood with a handkerchief, pointed
to the latticed windows of the _Hotel de Retz_ on our right, and,
understanding it was from there the assassin had fired, we ran across,
my comrade's cries of "For the Admiral!" bringing out a number of
Huguenot gentlemen who lodged in the neighbourhood.

"This way!" I cried excitedly