It was not till the decline of day, that the prince and his _état
major_ returned to Namur; invitations having been frankly given by
Don John to a score of his officers, to an entertainment in honour of
the return of his friend.

Amid the jovialty of such an entertainment, Gonzaga entertained
little doubt of learning the truth. The rough railleries of such men
were not likely to respect so slight a circumvallation as the honour
of female reputation; and the glowing vintage of the Moselle and
Rhine would bring forth the secret among the bubbles of their flowing
tides. And, in truth, scarcely were the salvers withdrawn, when the
potations of these mailed carousers produced deep oaths and
uproarious laughter; amid which was toasted the name of Margaret,
with the enthusiasm due to one of the originators of the massacre of
St Bartholomew, from the most Catholic captains of the founder of the
Inquisition of Spain.

The admiration due to her beauty, was, however, couched in terms
scarcely warranted on the lips of men of honour, even by such
frailties as Margaret's; and, to the surprise of Gonzaga, no
restraint was imposed by the presence of her imputed lover. It seemed
an established thing, that the name of Margaret was a matter of
indifference in the ears of Don John!

That very night, therefore, (the banquet being of short continuance
as there was to be a field-day at daybreak, under the reviewal of the
prince,) Ottavio Gonzaga, more than ever to seek in his conjectures,
resolved to address himself for further information to Nignio; to
whom he had brought confidential letters from his family in Spain,
and who was an ancient brother in arms.