She tossed her pretty head, and pretended to pout.

‘Was it Diane?  I will know.  Didst thou tell Diane?’

Instead of answering, now that his attention to the key was relaxed, Eustacie made a sudden dart, like a little wild cat, at the back of the chair and at the key.  They chair over-balanced; Beranger caught at the front drawer of the cabinet, which, unlocked by Eustacie, came out in his hand, and chair, children, drawer, and curiosities all went rolling over together on the floor with a hubbub that brought all the household together, exclaiming and scolding.  Madame de Ribaumont’s displeasure at the rifling of her hoards knew no bounds; Eustacie, by way of defence, shrieked ’like twenty demons;’ Beranger, too honourable to accuse her, underwent the same tempest; and at last both were soundly rapped over the knuckles with the long handle of Madame’s fan, and consigned to two separate closets, to be dealt with on the return of M. le Baron, while Madame returned to her embroidery, lamenting the absence of that dear little Diane, whose late visit at the chateau had been marked by such unusual tranquility between the children.

Beranger, in his dark closet, comforted himself with the shrewd suspicion that his father was so employed as not to be expected at home till supper-time, and that his mother’s wrath was by no means likely to be so enduring as to lead her to make complaints of the prisoners; and when he heard a trampling of horses in the court, he anticipated a speedy release and summons to show himself to the visitors.  He waited long, however, before he heard the pattering of little feet; then a stool scraped along the floor, the button of his door was undone, the stool pushed back, and as he emerged, Eustacie stood before him with her finger to her lip.  ’CHUT, Beranger!  It is my father and uncle, and Narcisse, and, oh! so many gens d’armes.  They are come to summon M. le Baron to go with them to disperse the preche by the Bac de l’Oie.  And oh, Beranger, is he not there?’

’I do not know.  He went out with his hawk, and I do not think he could have gone anywhere else.  Did they say so to my mother?’

’Yes; but she never knows.  And oh, Beranger, Narcisse told me—­ah, was it to tease me?—­that Diane has told them all they wanted to know, for that they sent her here on purpose to see if we were not all Huguenots.

’Very likely, the little viper!  Le me pass, Eustacie.  I must go and tell my father.’

’Thou canst not get out that way; the court is full of men-at-arms.  Hark, there’s Narcisse calling me.  He will come after me.’

There was not a moment to lose.  Berenger flew along a corridor, and down a narrow winding stair, and across the kitchen; then snatching at the arm of a boy of his own age whom he met at the door, he gasped out, ‘Come and help me catch Follet, Landry!’ and still running across an orchard, he pulled down a couple of apples from the trees, and bounded into a paddock where a small rough Breton pony was feeding among the little tawny Norman cows.  The animal knew his little master, and trotted towards him at his call of ’Follet, Follet.  Now be a wise Follet, and play me no tricks.  Thou and I, Follet, shall do good service, if thou wilt be steady.’