“Madame,” he said in his hearty way, “this is the cavalier of whom I spoke.  But for his courage Henry of Bearn would have been left lying on the field at Arnay-le-Duc.”

She gave me her hand to kiss, and thanked me graciously, saying that while she or her son lived I should not want a true friend.

“Madame,” I replied, “in taking my sister under your gracious protection you have already shown your kindness.”

“Your sister!” she said in surprise; “who is your sister?”

“Jeanne Le Blanc, whom your Majesty has honoured by making one of your ladies-in-waiting.”

“Then you must be the Sieur Le Blanc!”

“Edmond Le Blanc, your Majesty.  My father sacrificed his title and his lands, as well as his life, for the Cause!”

“How is this?” asked her son, and when I had related the story, he declared roundly that, with the Admiral’s support, he would force the king to restore my rights.

Presently I withdrew, and Jeanne, to whom Felix had related the adventure, kissed me and made much of me, to the envy of my two comrades, who, poor fellows, had no pretty sister of their own.  It was a proud night for me, but the shadow of my parents’ death lay on my happiness, and I would gladly have sacrificed all my honours for their presence.

“If life at Rochelle is to be as agreeable as this,” remarked Roger, with a glance at my sister, “I shall be loth to return to England.”

“Then you can be no true Englishman!” laughed Jeanne, as she wished us good-night before going to attend upon her royal mistress.

CHAPTER XVII

The King’s Promise

Life flowed very smoothly in La Rochelle during that autumn of 1570.  Amongst us at least the peace was not broken, though we heard rumours of dark threats from the Guises, and Coligny received numerous warnings not to trust himself, without an armed force, outside the city walls.

The first break came about with the departure of Roger Braund.  An English ship put into the harbour one morning at the end of November, and her master brought a letter which compelled my comrade to return home.

“No,” he said in reply to my question, “there is no bad news; it is simply a matter of business.  I shall not wish you good-bye; I have still my promised visit to Paris to make.  Perhaps we shall all be able to go there together.”

What he said to Jeanne I do not know, but she did not seem so much cast down at his departure as I expected, for they two had become very close friends.  Indeed, I sometimes thought their friendship was even warmer than that between Jeanne and Felix.

However, we went down to the harbour, Felix and I, and aboard his ship, an uncomfortable-looking craft, with but scanty accommodation for a passenger.  But Roger did not mind this.  He had sailed in a much worse vessel, he said, and a far longer distance than the passage across the Channel.