‘A full day’s journey,’ answered Pere Colombeau, and added, ’I am sorry you are indeed a Huguenot.  It was what I feared last night, but I feared to add to your grief.  The nuns are not permitted to deliver up children to Huguenot relations.’

‘I am her father!’ exclaimed Berenger, indignantly.

‘That goes for nothing, according to the rules of the Church,’ said the priest.  ‘The Church cannot yield her children to heresy.’

‘But we in England and not Calvinists,’ cried Berenger.  ’We are not like your Huguenots.’

‘The Church would make no difference,’ said the priest.  ’Stay, sir,’ as Berenger stuck his own forehead, and was about to utter a fierce invective.  ’Remember that if your child lives, it is owing to the pity of the good nuns.  You seem not far from the bosom of the Church.  Did you but return—–­’

‘It is vain to speak of that,’ said Berenger, quickly.  ’Say, sir, would an order from the King avail to open these doors?’

‘Of course it would, if you have the influence to obtain one.’

‘I have, I have,’ cried Berenger, eagerly.  ’The King has been my good friend already.  Moreover, my English grandfather will deal with the Queen.  The heiress of our house cannot be left in a foreign nunnery.  Say, sir,’ he added, turning to the priest, ’if I went to Lucon at once know your name, and refuse all dealings with you.’

‘She could not do so, if I brought an order from the King.’

‘Certainly not.’

‘Then to Paris!’ And laying his hand on Philip’s shoulder, he asked the boy whether he had understood, ad explained that he must go at once to Paris—­riding post—­and obtain the order from the King.

‘To Paris—­to be murdered again!’ said Philip, in dismay.

‘They do not spend their time there in murder,’ said Berenger.  ’And now is the time, while the savage villain Narcisse is with his master in Poland.  I cannot but go, Philip; we both waste words.  You shall take home a letter to my Lord.’

‘I—­I go not home without you,’ said Philip, doggedly.

‘I cannot take you, Phil; I have no warrant.’

’I have warrant for going, though.  My father said he was easier about you with me at your side.  Where you go, I go.’

The brothers understood each other’s ways so well, that Berenger knew the intonation in Philip’s voice that meant that nothing should make him give way.  He persuaded no more, only took measures for the journey, in which the kind priest gave him friendly advice.  There was no doubt that the good man pitied him sincerely, and wished him success more than perhaps he strictly ought to have done, unless as a possible convert.  Of money for the journey there was no lack, for Berenger had brought a considerable sum, intending to reward all who had befriended Eustacie, as well as to fit her out for the voyage; and this, perhaps, with his papers, he had brought ashore to facilitate his entrance into