’What, you want time to lose the taste of your dealings with the devil?’ said Berenger, smiling.

‘Pshaw!  No devil in the matter,’ testily said Philip.  ’No, I was only wishing you had not had a Puritan fit, and seen and heard for yourself.  Then I should not have had to tell you,’ and he sighed.

‘I have no desire to be told,’ said Berenger, who had become more fixed in the conviction that it was an imposture.

’No desire!  Ah!  I have none when I knew what it was.  But you ought to know.’

‘Well,’ said Berenger, ‘you will burst anon if I open not my ears.’

’Dear Berry, speak not thus.  It will be the worse for you when you do hear.  Alack, Berenger, all ours have been vain hopes.  I asked for HER—­and the boy fell well-nigh into convulsions of terror as he gazed; spoke of flames and falling houses.  That was wherefore I pressed you not again—­it would have wrung your heart too much.  The boy fairly wept and writhed himself, crying out in his tongue for pity on the fair lady and the little babe in the burning house.  Alack! brother,’ said Philip, a little hurt that his brother had not changed countenance.

’This is the lying tale of the man-at-arms which our own eyes contradicted,’ said Berenger; ’and no doubt was likewise inspired by the Chevalier.’

’See the boy, brother!  How should he have heard the Chevalier?  Nay, you might hug your own belief, but it is hard that we should both be in durance for your mere dream that she lives.’

’Come, Phil, it will be the devil indeed that sows dissension between us,’ said Berenger.  ’You know well enough that were it indeed with my poor Eustacie as they would fain have us believe, rather than give up her fair name I would not in prison for life.  Or would you have me renounce my faith, or wed Madame de Selinville upon the witness of a pool of ink that I am a widower?’ he added, almost laughing.

‘For that matter,’ muttered Philip, a good deal ashamed and half affronted, ’you know I value the Protestant faith so that I never heard a word from the will old priest.  Nevertheless, the boy, when I asked of our release, saw the gates set open by Love.’

’What did Love look like in the pool?  Had he wings like the Cupids in the ballets at the Louvre?’ asked Berenger provokingly.

‘I tell you I saw nothing,’ said Philip, tartly:  ’this was the Italian’s interpretation of the boy’s gesture.  It was to be by means of love, he said, and of a lady who—–­he made it plain enough who she was,’ added the boy, colouring.

‘No doubt, as the Chevalier have instructed him to say that I—­I—­’ he hesitated, ’that my—­my love—­I mean that he saw my shield per pale with the field fretty and the sable leopard.’

‘Oh! it is to be my daughter, is it?’ said Berenger, laughing; ’I am very happy to entertain your proposals for her.’

‘Berenger, what mocking fiend has possessed you?’ cried Philip, half angrily, half pitifully.  ’How can you so speak of that poor child?’