CHAPTER XXV

A Dastardly Deed

In the evening of that same day, the Admiral in passing to his room inquired kindly if I had executed his commission, and appeared pleased to learn that my sister had already started on her journey.

“I do not think it was necessary,” he remarked, “but at least no harm can come from it, and you will feel easier in your mind.  Good-night, gentlemen; our plans are progressing favourably, and I hope soon to have good news for you all.”

I went to bed early that night, for Felix, unlike his usual bright self, was very gloomy and morose.  I fancy he was not well pleased with the coming of Roger Braund, and still less so with his ready offer to escort Jeanne to Rochelle.

“What is the fellow doing here at all?” he asked.  “Why can he not stay in his own country?”

I ventured to suggest that no one put the question at Jarnac, or at Montcontour, and that we of the Religion at least owed a great debt of gratitude to Roger and his brave comrades.  Felix seemed rather to resent this remark, so I said no more, trusting that by another day he would have recovered his good humour and pleasant manners.

I remember well how that memorable day began.  It was Friday, August 22, and as I wakened from a long sleep the cheery rays of the morning sun flooded the room.  How little any of us in the Hotel Coligny dreamed of what was to happen before that same sun sank to rest!

After breakfast, Des Pruneaux drew me on one side.  “The Admiral proceeds to the Louvre this morning,” he said.  “De Guerchy and I attend him; 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.”