au. Of course he
must go, and his tutor must be left behind, and who could tell into what
mischief he might not be tempted!

Here, however, Sidney gave the poor chaplain some comfort. He believed
that no ladies were to be of the party, and that the gentlemen were
chiefly of the King's new friends among the Huguenots, such as Coligny,
his son-in-law Teligny, Rochefoucauld, and the like, among whom the
young gentleman could not fall into any very serious harm, and might
very possibly be influenced against a Roman Catholic wife. At any rate,
he would be out of the way, and unable to take any dangerous steps.

This same consideration so annoyed Berenger that he would have declined
the invitation, if royal invitations could have been declined. And in
the morning, before setting out, he dressed himself point device, and
with Osbert behind him marched down to the Croix de Larraine, to call
upon the Chevalier de Ribaumont. He had a very fine speech at his
tongue's end when he set out, but a good deal of it had evaporated when
he reached the hotel, and perhaps he was not very sorry not to find the
old gentleman within.

On his return, he indited a note to the Chevalier, explaining that he
had now seen his wife, Madame la Baronne de Ribaumont, and had come to
an understanding with her, by which he found that it was under a mistake
that the application to the Pope had been signed, and that they should,
therefore, follow it up with a protest, and act as if no such letter had
been sent.

Berenger showed this letter to Walsingham, who, though much concerned,
could not forbid his sending it. 'Poor lad,' he said to the tutor; ''tis
an excellently writ billet for one so young. I would it were in a wiser
cause. But he has fairly the bit between his teeth, and there is no
checking him while he has this show of right on his side.'

And poor Mr. Adderley could only beseech Mr. Sidney to take care of him.

CHAPTER VII. THE QUEEN'S PASTORAL

Either very gravely gay,
Or very gaily grave,
--W. M. PRAED

Montpipeau, though in the present day a suburb of Paris, was in the
sixteenth century far enough from the city to form a sylvan retreat,
where Charles IX, could snatch a short respite from the intrigues of his
court, under pretext of enjoying his favourite sport. Surrounded with
his favoured associates of the Huguenot party, he seemed to breathe
a purer atmosphere, and to yield himself up to enjoyment