seeks allies everywhere against France; soon a great
campaign should occur."

"Without doubt, when his Most Christian Majesty will triumph as he has
done before. But why--how--did you obtain your commission? You do not
tell me that."

"No, I had forgotten. Yet 'tis not much to tell. My mother--an English
woman--excuse me, Monseigneur l'Eveque, but you have spilt your wine."

"So, indeed, I have," said the bishop, sopping up the wine which his
elbow had overturned by a sudden jerk while the other was speaking,
"so, indeed, I have. But 'tis not much. And there is still that other
bottle uncorked." Then with a sidelong glance he said: "So your mother
was an English woman. _Ah! mon Dieu, elles sont belles, ces
Anglaises_! An English woman. Well, well!"

"Yes, an English woman. Daughter of a Protestant cavalier who left
England when the Commonwealth was declared. He had done his best for
the king, but with his death he could do no more. So he quitted his
country forever."

"Most interesting," exclaimed the bishop, "but your father, Monsieur
St. Georges. Who was he? Of the St. Georges's family, perhaps, of
Auvergne! Or another branch, of Dauphine! A noble family is that of
St. Georges!"

"He was of the branch in Auvergne. A humble member, but still of it. I
know no more."

"No more?"

"No."

"Humph! Strange! Pardon me, monsieur, I would not ask a delicate
question--but--but--did not the family recognise the marriage of
Monsieur St. Georges?"

"They did not recognise it for the simple reason that they were never
told of it. It did not please my father to divulge the marriage to his
family, so they were left in ignorance that it had ever taken place."

"And was Monsieur St. Georges--your father--a soldier like yourself?"

"He was a soldier like myself. And served against Conde."

"Against Conde. Under Turenne, doubtless?" and once more he cast a
sidelong glance at his visitor.

"Yes. Under Turenne. They were, I have heard, more than commander and
subordinate. They were friends."

"A great friendship!" exclaimed the bishop. "A great friendship! To
his influence you doubtless owe your commission, obtained, I think you
said, in '74, the year before Turenne's death."

"Doubtless. So my father said. He died in the same year as the
marshal."

"In battle, too, no doubt?" Then, seeing a look upon the other's face
which seemed to express a desire for no more questioning--though,
indeed, he bowed gravely at the q