art beat. She had seen the court of the King
of Navarre, what time Margaret of Valois made Nerac gay for a whole
year, as ever was Paris under the first Francis. But even there, betwixt
the old grey chateau on the hill and the new summer pavilion in the
valley, something of the warriors' camp had ever lingered about that
Capua of the "Bearnais."

Besides, Claire had been young then, and many things she had not
understood--which was perhaps the better for her and the happier. But
now, she doubted not. The child was a woman, and all would now be made
clear. Not Eve, looking up at the Eden apple-tree in the reserved corner
of the orchard, had more of certainty that all happiness lay in the
tasting of the first of these golden pippins.

Presently they began to mingle with the crowd, and from under his shaggy
brows the Professor watched the gay young courtiers with unconcealed
displeasure.

As he listened to the quick give-and-take of wit from this galliard to
the other, he murmured to himself the words of the Wise Man, even the
words of Jesus the son of Sirach, "There is a certain subtlety that is
fine, but it is unrighteous."

And to his pupil he said, "Answer not these fools according to their
folly. Your sword's point will make a better answer! Even I myself----"

But here he checked himself, as if he would have said something that
became not a grave Professor of the Sorbonne in the habit of his order.

And even while saying so--lo! in a moment, the swords were out and
flickering, his own first of all, the same little, thin, snaky
sword-cane made in Toledo, supple as a reed, which the Abbe John and Guy
Launay had returned to appropriate on the Day of the Barricades. John
d'Albret stood on his defence with an Italian blade, having a small cup
to protect the over-guard, which was just coming into fashion among the
young bloods. While from the rear Jean-aux-Choux spurred his Flanders
mare into the riot, waving over his head a huge two-handed sword of
Italian pattern, like those with which the Swiss had harvested the
armoured knights like ripe corn at Granson and at Morat.

And the reason of the pother was this.

A couple of gentlemen-cavaliers had approached from behind, and
descending as suddenly as hawks into a courtyard full of doves
fluttering and pacing each in his innocence, had deftly cut out the
little jennet of Arab blood on which Claire was riding.

Her dark student's over-mantle, descending low as her s