'Is there then another wanderer here?'

'Ah! sir, pardon me!' she exclaimed. 'I will not long importune
you, but only till morning light--only till the Fermiere Rotrou
comes.'

'If Matthieu and Anne Rotrou placed you here, then all is well,'
replied the stranger. 'Fear not, daughter, but tell me. Are you
one of my scattered flock, or one whose parents are known to me?'
Then, as she hesitated, 'I am Isaac Gardon--escaped, alas! alone,
from the slaughter of the Barthelemy.'

'Master Gardon!' cried Eustacie. 'Oh, I know! O sir, my husband
loved and honoured you.'

'Your husband?'

'Yes, sir, le Baron de Ribaumont.'

'That fair and godly youth! My dear old patron's son! You--you!
But--' with a shade of doubt, almost of dismay, 'the boy was
wedded--wedded to the heiress---'

'Yes, yes, I am that unhappy one! We were to have fled together on
that dreadful night. He came to meet me to the Louvre--to his
doom!' she gasped out, nearer to tears than she had ever been since
that time, such a novelty was it to her to hear Berenger spoken of
in kind or tender terms; and in her warmth of feeling, she came out
of her corner, and held our her hand to him.