the fugitives.  Berenger was to present himself in the palace as in his ordinary court attendance, and, contriving to elude notice among the throng who were there lodged, was to take up his station at the foot of the stairs leading to the apartments of ladies, whence Eustacie was to descend at about eleven o’clock, with her maid Veronique.  Landry Osbert was to join them from the lackey’s hall below, where he had a friend, and the connivance of the porter at the postern opening towards the Seine had been secured.

Sidney wished much to accompany him to the palace, if his presence could be any aid or protection, but on consideration it was decided that his being at the Louvre was likely to attract notice to Ribaumont’s delaying there.  The two young men therefore shook hands and parted, as youths who trusted that they had begun a lifelong friendship, with mutual promises to write to one another—­ the one, the adventures of his flight; the other, the astonishment it would excite.  And auguries were exchanged of merry meetings in London, and of the admiration the lovely little wife would excite at Queen Elizabeth’s court.

Then, with an embrace such as English friends then gave, they separated at the gate; and Sidney stood watching, as Berenger walked free and bold down the street, his sword at his side, his cloak over one shoulder, his feathered cap on one side, showing his bright curling hair, a sunshiny picture of a victorious bridegroom--such a picture as sent Philip Sidney’s wits back to Arcadia.

It was not a day of special state, but the palace was greatly crowded.  The Huguenots were in an excited mood, inclined to rally round Henry of Navarre, whose royal title made him be looked on as is a manner their monarch, though his kingdom had been swallowed by Spain, and he was no more than a French duke distantly related to royalty in the male line, and more nearly through his grandmother and bride.  The eight hundred gentlemen he had brought with him swarmed about his apartments, making their lodging on staircases and in passages; and to Berenger it seemed as if the King’s guards and Monsieur’s gentlemen must have come in in equal numbers to balance them.  Narcisse was there, and Berenger kept cautiously amid his Huguenot acquaintance, resolved not to have a quarrel thrust on him which he could not honourably desert.  It was late before he could work his way to the young Queen’s reception-room, where he found Eustacie.  She looked almost as white as at the masque; but there was a graver, less childish expression in her face than he had ever seen before, and her eyes glanced confidence when they met his.

Behind the Queen’s chair a few words could be spoken.

‘Ma mie, art thou well again?  Canst bear this journey now?’

’Quite well, now! quite ready.  Oh that we may never have masques in England!’

He smiled—­’Never such as this!’

’Ah! thou knowest best.  I am glad I am thine already; I am so silly, thou wouldest never have chosen me!  But thou wilt teach me, and I will strive to be very good!  And oh! let me but give one farewell to Diane.’