“He is no worse than his kind,” I replied somewhat bitterly.  “He is but trying to raise himself on the misfortunes of others.”

“Worse than that, monsieur.  In my opinion it was he who caused the downfall of your house, for his own wicked ends.  Your father’s property was to be his reward for doing Monseigneur’s dirty work.”

“It is likely enough,” I replied, “but we can do nothing without the Admiral.”

A day or two after this conversation—­it was as far as I can remember about the middle of July—­Felix came to me in a state of great excitement.

“Have you heard the news?” he asked.  “The king has sent for our chief!”

“For what purpose?”

“He has written a most kindly letter and has promised to follow his counsel.”

“Faith,” said I, “it smacks to me of the invitation of the hungry fox to the plump pullet!  I think Coligny will be well advised to remain within the walls of La Rochelle.”

The king’s letter was the subject of eager discussion, and almost every one declared that our beloved chief would run the greatest risk in accepting the invitation.

“The king may be honest enough, though I doubt it,” said one, “but the Guises are murderers; while as for Monseigneur and his mother, I would as soon trust to a pack of wolves!”

Queen Joan, Henry of Bearn, young Conde, and all our leaders, though making use of less blunt speech, were of the same opinion, but the Admiral cared little for his own safety, when there was a chance of benefiting his country.

“The king is surrounded by evil counsellors,” he said; “there is all the greater need for one who will tender him honest advice.  I have ventured my life freely for France; you would not have me turn coward in my old age?”

“To die on the field of battle, my lord,” exclaimed one of his oldest comrades in arms, “and to be stabbed in the back by a cowardly assassin are two very different things.”

“You love me over-much,” replied the Admiral, placing a hand affectionately on his shoulder; “you are too tender of my welfare.  What is one man’s life compared with the good of France?”

“Very little, my lord, except when the man is yourself, and then it becomes everything!”

“Well,” replied Coligny, “at the least we can ponder his majesty’s request.”

“He will go,” declared Felix that evening; “his mind is made up.  With him France is first, second, and third; Coligny is nowhere.”

“The king may really mean well,” I suggested.

“If he doesn’t,” said Felix, “and any harm happens to our chief, the House of Valois will rue it!  We will clear them out, root and branch.”

My comrade foretold the Admiral’s decision correctly.  With his eyes wide open to the terrible risk, he elected to place himself in the king’s power, in the hope of healing the wounds from which France was still bleeding.

Jeanne was so happy with her royal mistress that I felt no misgiving in leaving her, and for myself I was not sorry to exchange the confinement of Rochelle for a more active life.  Besides, I could not help reflecting that it was to the Admiral’s influence I looked for the recovery of my father’s estates.