Every day now some fresh note of alarm sounded.  The king withdrew the privileges he had granted to those of the Religion, and from several quarters we learned that civil war in all but the name had broken out afresh.  It was said, too, that the king had given command of the royal army to his brother, the Duke of Anjou, with orders to exterminate us, root and branch.

“Anjou!” laughed my comrade, “why, he is only a boy!  He should be doing his lessons.  Has the king provided him with a nurse?”

“Yes,” I replied, “he will find Marshal Tavannes a very capable nurse.”

“Oh, that is the way of it, eh?  Faith, ’tis a good plan, for, see you, Edmond, if there be any glory ’twill go to Anjou, while Tavannes can take the discredit.  A capital arrangement—­that is, from Monseigneur’s point of view!”

Meanwhile numbers of Huguenot gentlemen with their retainers were arriving at Rochelle, and our leaders were soon able to muster a respectable little army.

“Anjou must make haste if he wishes to cover himself with glory,” said Felix one morning.  “The Queen of Navarre will be here to-morrow, bringing four thousand Bearnese with her.  They are sturdy fellows and splendid fighters.”

“There is another item of news,” I said.  “The English queen is sending money and guns!”

“Ah,” responded my comrade, “the English are stupid!  Why don’t they join us boldly?  We are fighting for the same object, and against the same enemy.  For, mark you, Edmond, our real foes are Spain and the Pope, which these English will find out one of these days!  If we get beaten, it will be their turn next.”

We gave the brave Queen of Navarre and her troops a right royal reception, but to me the most interesting figure in the procession was her son, Henry, on whom in the years to come the hopes of so many Frenchmen were centred.  He was quite a boy, only fifteen years old, but he had a strong and capable face, full of fire and energy.  His hair had a reddish tinge, his skin was brown but clear, and he had well-shaped regular features.  His eyes had a sweet expression, and when he smiled his whole face lit up with animation.  He sat his horse with extreme grace, and responded to the plaudits of the crowd with courtly bows.

“A gallant lad!” exclaimed Felix delightedly.  “He has the makings of a soldier, and in a year or two will be a tower of strength to us.”

The talk now among the younger men was of moving out from Rochelle, scattering the Royalists, marching on Paris, and dictating peace in the palace.  It was astonishing how easy these things appeared to be, as we sat and gossiped idly in the Admiral’s ante-chamber!  Fortunately, however, our leaders, being in possession of cooler heads and clearer brains, decided otherwise, and when winter came, making a campaign impossible, we were still inside the walls.

During the autumn we were joined by a troop of English gentlemen, about a hundred strong, under the leadership of one named Henry Champernoun.  They were mostly young, of good birth and family, very gallant fellows, and as eager to fight as the most headstrong of us.