uts a turnip, and
then those persons who are now employing you will disown you utterly."

"I know that, father," said Christophe.

"What! are you really so strong, my son? You know it, and are willing to
risk all?"

"Yes, father."

"By the powers above us!" cried the father, pressing his son in his
arms, "we can understand each other; you are worthy of your father. My
child, you'll be the honor of the family, and I see that your old father
can speak plainly with you. But do not be more Huguenot than Messieurs
de Coligny. Never draw your sword; be a pen man; keep to your future
role of lawyer. Now, then, tell me nothing until after you have
succeeded. If I do not hear from you by the fourth day after you reach
Blois, that silence will tell me that you are in some danger. The old
man will go to save the young one. I have not sold furs for thirty-two
years without a good knowledge of the wrong side of court robes. I have
the means of making my way through many doors."

Christophe opened his eyes very wide as he heard his father talking
thus; but he thought there might be some parental trap in it, and he
made no reply further than to say:--

"Well, make out the bill, and write a letter to the queen; I must start
at once, or the greatest misfortunes may happen."

"Start? How?"

"I shall buy a horse. Write at once, in God's name."

"Hey! mother! give your son some money," cried the furrier to his wife.

The mother returned, went to her chest, took out a purse of gold, and
gave it to Christophe, who kissed her with emotion.

"The bill was all ready," said his father; "here it is. I will write the
letter at once."

Christophe took the bill and put it in his pocket.

"But you will sup with us, at any rate," said the old man. "In such a
crisis you ought to exchange rings with Lallier's daughter."

"Very well, I will go and fetch her," said Christophe.

The young man was distrustful of his father's stability in the matter.
The old man's character was not yet fully known to him. He ran up to his
room, dressed himself, took a valise, came downstairs softly and laid it
on a counter in the shop, together with his rapier and cloak.

"What the devil are you doing?" asked his father, hearing him.

Christophe came up to the old man and kissed him on both cheeks.

"I don't want any one to see my preparations for departure, and I have
put them on a counter in the shop," he whispered.

"Here is the letter," said his fa