a
stall for the animal, saw it fed and rubbed down, and, then taking his
pistols and the king's letter from the holsters and putting them in
his belt, entered the hostelry and called for a cup of wine. And,
seeing that the woman who served him--evidently the mistress from the
manner in which she joked with one or two customers and gave
directions to a servant--was a motherly looking woman, he asked her if
the child he carried would be safe there for the night?

"A child," she exclaimed, "a child, and in the arms of a soldier! Why,
sir, whence come you with a child? _Mon Dieu!_ Of all burdens,
soldiers rarely carry such as that."

"Nevertheless, I carry such a one. I am on the road from Pontarlier to
Paris with my child, and I sleep to-night across the way at the
Marquis Phelypeaux's. It seems there is no accommodation there for
infants."

"_Hein!_" screamed the woman, turning to the customers in the place;
"you hear that?" Then addressing herself to St. Georges, she
continued: "You speak well, monsieur; that is no place for children.
_Ma foi!_ the old _scelerat_ would be as like to eat it."

CHAPTER II.

HOSPITALITY!

"Who, then, is Phelypeaux?" asked St. Georges as he sat himself down
in front of the great kitchen fire--the kitchen serving always in a
Burgundian inn as the general place of assembly and serving room. "Who
is Phelypeaux?"

"Monsieur does not, in truth, know?" she replied, with a glance at the
customers--one a mousquetaire, himself _en route_ to Bar to join his
regiment, and the other evidently a shopkeeper of the place. The
former had risen and saluted St. Georges as he entered, seeing by his
accoutrements and lace[1] that he was an officer, and now he joined in
the conversation deferentially.

[Footnote 1: The various _chevaux-legers_ had not as yet been put by
Louis into uniform, as was the case a few years before with most of
the French regiments.]

"In truth, monsieur, he is a rarity, an oddity. He is priest and
bishop both----"

"So," interrupted St. Georges, "he is the Bishop of Lodeve. I have
heard of him. He has a brother, I think, comrade, who follows our
profession."

"That is true, monsieur. One who will go far. 'Twas but last year the
king sent him ambassador to Cologne; now they say he goes to Turin."

"So, so. But this one here--this bishop? And if Bishop of Lodeve, what
does he do in Burgundy?"

"Villainies, _sceleratesses_," interrupted the hostess, turning awa