country into their own hands again, and out of the clutches of these
foreign harpies!"

"That can be done only by another war, Jacques, and surely we have had
enough of cutting one another's throats!"

"It must be either war or murder," he responded. "The Guises won't rest
until they become masters. France will swim in blood one of these days.
Do you know, monsieur, I am glad that Mademoiselle Jeanne is not at the
castle!"

Jeanne was my sister, who, since the peace, had been living at Rochelle
with an invalid aunt. She was seventeen years of age, a year older than
myself, and a girl of beauty and courage.

"You are in a gloomy mood, Jacques, and fancying all kinds of dangers
that are not likely to happen. Why, even the stranger we met at Le Blanc
alarmed you."

"He alarms me yet," replied Jacques gravely; "he is a bird of ill
omen."

"Come," I said banteringly, "let us have a canter; it will clear the
cobwebs from your brain, besides helping us on our way to Saintbreuil,"
the little town where we intended to pass the night and to procure fresh
horses. Jacques had an acquaintance at Saintbreuil--an innkeeper who
secretly favoured the Cause without possessing sufficient courage to
declare his opinions.

The night had grown somewhat late by the time of our arrival, but we