mming the refrain of a Leaguer song.

Madame Gillifleur saluted her enemy with the duck of a hen which has
finished drinking. To her Claire bowed the slightest of acknowledgments.

"To what do I owe this honour?" she inquired, with dryness.

"I thought my lady, the Professor's niece, might be in need of some
service--a tiring-maid perhaps?" began the landlady. "My own you would
be heartily welcome to, but she is a fresh, foolish wench from the
Sologne, and would sooner groom a nag of Beauce than pin aright a
lady's stomacher! But I can obtain one from the town--not too
respectable, I fear. But for my lady, and for one night, I suppose that
does not matter."

"Ha, from the town!" grumbled Jean-aux-Choux out of his window-seat.
Then he hummed, nodding his head and wagging his finger as if he had
just found the words in his song-book:

"Eyes and ears, ears and eyes--
Who hires maids, lacks never spies!"

The landlady darted a furious look at the interrupter.

"Who may this rude fellow be, that is not afraid to give his tongue such
liberty in my house?"

Jean-aux-Choux answered for himself, as indeed he was well able to do.

"I am philosopher-in-chief to the League; and as for that, when I am at
home with his Grace of Guise, he and I wear motley day about!"

The face of the landlady changed. Remembering the learned Professor of
the Sorbonne, who had gone to visit the bishop, she turned quickly to
Claire and asked, "Does the fellow speak truth? Is he really the jester
to the great Duke, the good Prince, the glory of the League?"

"I have reason to believe it," said Claire calmly; "but, for your
complete satisfaction, you can ask my uncle the Professor upon his
return."

"I trust they will not be long gone," grumbled Jean-aux-Choux. "I have
an infallible clock here under the third button of my tunic, which tells
me it is long past dinner-time. And if it be not a good worthy meal, I
shall by no means advise His Grace to dismount at the Golden Lark when
next he passes through Orleans!"

"Holy Saint Marthe!" cried the landlady; "I will go this minute, and
see what they are doing in the kitchen. I will warm their scullion
backs----"

"I think I smell burned meat!" continued Jean-aux-Choux.

"Faith, but is it true that the Duke of Guise is indeed coming this
way?" Madame Celeste Gillifleur asked anxiously.

"True, indeed," affirmed Jean, with his nose in the air, "and before the
year is out, too. But, M