was silent for a little while, but presently she
said, "The Cause is ruined, Edmond!"

"Yes," I admitted, reluctantly, "with all our leaders slain, or in the
hands of the king, we are powerless. And now, my dear Jeanne, you had
better go to your room and rest a while."

"But you are hurt!" she exclaimed anxiously.

"The wound is not serious, and it has been skilfully dressed. However,
Roger shall fetch a surgeon."

"And you need food," she said, "you are weak and faint. It is you who
need rest, and I will take care of you."

"Very well," I said, thinking it would be better perhaps if she had
something to occupy her mind, "you shall nurse back my strength."

Now that the excitement of the journey had passed I felt, indeed,
painfully weak, and for several days kept to my bed, being waited upon
by Jeanne and Roger, while Jacques slept at night in my chamber.

One morning toward the end of the week Roger came as usual to sit with
me. Jeanne was in the room, but she disappeared quickly, her pretty
cheeks covered with blushes.

"You have frightened Jeanne away!" I exclaimed, laughing.

"She knows that I wish to have a talk with you," he answered, and upon
my word he began to blush like an overgrown boy.

"One would fancy it a matter of some importance!"

"Of the greatest importance," he replied earnestly, "since it affects
all your future life. Do you realize that unless you desert your faith,
and go to mass, your career is ruined? Your account of the massacre was
under rather than over the mark. With the exception of Conde and Navarre
there does not appear to be a single Huguenot leader left, and it is
reported that Conde has recanted in order to save his life."

"The Cause is not dead because Conde has forsaken it."

"No," agreed Roger, "but it is dead nevertheless. Henry is a prisoner in
Paris; the Huguenots are scattered and dispirited; they have no leaders,
no arms, no money; there is not a single district in which they are not
at the mercy of the king's troops. Already the Paris massacre has been
repeated in several towns."

"Well," I said, wondering whither all this tended.

"You yourself cannot leave Rochelle except at the risk of your life."

"Because of Cordel?"

"Because of Cordel. He means to possess your estates; he has a powerful
patron in Anjou, and you cannot obtain the ear of the king."

"'Twould do me little service if I could!"

"What will you do in Rochelle?"

"I shall not stay her