Our entry into the city was very different from that after the rout of Montcontour.  Cannon boomed, church bells rang merrily, the streets were gay with flags and flowers and triumphal arches; while the citizens, dressed in their best, with happy smiling faces, cheered until they were hoarse, as the Admiral, with Henry of Bearn on his right and the youthful Conde on his left, rode through the gateway.

Jeanne, with several of the queen’s ladies, was sitting in the balcony of the Hotel Coligny.  Catching sight of us, she stood up and waved her hand, and we bowed low in our saddles, and smiled, and waved our hands in return.

“Your sister is more beautiful than ever, Edmond,” said my comrade enthusiastically.

“She looked paler, I thought,” I replied, as we turned into the courtyard; “but now the war is over we shall have a chance to cheer her a little.”

“Did she see Roger Braund, do you think?”

“It is likely enough,” I laughed; “he is a fair size, and sits up well in the saddle,” a harmless pleasantry which, to judge by his peevish exclamation, Felix did not appreciate.

That evening we all met at the reception given by the Queen of Navarre, a reception brilliant by reason of the number of brave men and beautiful women assembled.  I had spent an hour alone with Jeanne during the afternoon, and she had told me of our mother’s illness, and of her last loving message to myself.

I asked how she came to be in the Queen of Navarre’s household, and her eyes kindled and her face flushed as she answered, “Oh, Edmond, the queen has been the kindest of friends!  She sought me out in my sorrow, saying it was not right that the daughter of so brave a soldier as my father should be left to bear her grief alone.  She insisted on my becoming one of her ladies-in-waiting, and ever since has done her best to make me happy.”

My sister was certainly very beautiful, and I could not wonder to see the numbers of handsome and highborn cavaliers who clustered around her that evening.  But Jeanne was staunch and leal, and, though courteous to all, it was in the company of her old friends Felix and Roger she found her chief pleasure.

We four were chatting together, and Felix was describing in his lively way some of our adventures, when Henry of Bearn drew near.

“Le Blanc,” he exclaimed, looking at me, “surely it is Le Blanc!” and taking my arm he added jovially, “come with me, I must present you specially to my mother.  She ought to know to whom she is indebted for her son’s life.”

Jeanne looked at me in surprise, and as we moved away I heard Felix saying, “I warrant he never told you a word of that.  By my faith, one could hardly blame him had he cried it from the housetops!”

Meanwhile the prince marched up the room, his arm placed affectionately on my shoulder, and presented me to the gracious lady who was such a tower of strength to the Cause.