enaud, where you
will find something better for your age and more to your liking than
women's eyes."

"Dinner! and I twenty-four!"

"Eighteen, Stephen, eighteen, not a day older, and be thankful for the
heart of a boy."

"Why not be thankful for the heart of a girl!" retorted La Mothe.
"Pray the Saints, as the King would say, that Ursula de Vesc is as
pretty as her name."

Partly that his men might be free from the restraint of his presence,
and partly because he did not wish to advertise his visit to Amboise
more broadly than necessary, Commines ordered their meal to be served
in a private room. It was to the front, with two small windows
overlooking the roadway. These were open, and as the stamping of hoofs
and jingling of bridle-chains came through them Commines bade La Mothe
see who were without.

"But do not show yourself. Between Valmy and Amboise every man is a
friend or an enemy, with fewer friends the further Valmy is left
behind."

"A priest, with three of an escort," said La Mothe, "King's men, I am
sure. Some of your own have gone out to meet them. Shall I go down to
make sure?"

"No; go into that inner room, rather, for I hear feet upon the stairs.
If you are to be a stranger in Amboise the fewer who see you at
Chateau-Renaud the better. We cannot give a priest the Valmy gallows
as a reason for silence."

As the inner door closed the outer opened, and a Franciscan entered,
his robe strewn thickly with the dust from the highway. Commines
recognized him at once; he was from Valmy, one of the many clerics the
King's strange religiosity gathered round him, and justly held by Louis
in deep respect for the simplicity and saintliness of his life. In an
age when the fires of scandal scorched the Church with such a flaming
vehemence that the heat kindled round the throne of the Chief Bishop
himself, Father John escaped without so much as the smell of burning on
his garments. None could lay self-seeking to his charge, nor even the
smallest of the many vices which in every order raised their heads,
rampant and unashamed. It was characteristic of Louis that he should
attach to himself men of such unselfish humility and austere pureness
of life. God and the Saints would surely forgive a little chicanery to
one who lived in an atmosphere of other men's holy lives.

"Father John!" and Commines caught the Franciscan by the arm almost
roughly, a sudden fear setting his pulses throbbing. "Has Saint-P