tcontour, and gave as full memoirs of each as did
Blaise de Monluc, only _viva voce_ instead of in writing. Diane was
rather a favourite of his; she knew her way through all his adventures.
So soon as she had heard the description of the King of Navarre's entry
into Paris that afternoon, and the old gentleman's lamentation that his
own two nephews were among the three hundred Huguenot gentleman who had
formed the escort, she had only to observe whether his reminiscences
had gone to Italy or to Flanders in order to be able to put in the
appropriate remarks at each pause, while she listened all the while to
the murmurs behind the curtain. Yet it was not easy, with all her court
breeding, to appear indifferent, and solely absorbed in hearing of
the bad lodgings that had fallen to the share of the royal troops at
Brescia, when such sounds were reaching her. It was not so much the
actual words she heard, though these were the phrases--'_mon ange_,
my heart, my love;' those were common, and Diane had lived in the
Queen-mother's squadron long enough to despise those who uttered
them only less than those who believed them. It was the full depth of
tenderness and earnestness, in the subdued tones of the voice, that gave
her a sense of quiet force and reality beyond all she had ever known.
She had heard and overheard men pour out frantic ravings of passion, but
never had listened to anything like the sweet protecting tenderness of
voice that seemed to embrace and shelter its object. Diane had no doubts
now; he had never so spoken to her; nay, perhaps he had had no such
cadences in his voice before. It was quite certain that Eustacie was
everything to him, she herself nothing; she who might have had any
gallant in the court at her feet, but had never seen one whom she
could believe in, whose sense of esteem had been first awakened by this
stranger lad who despised her. Surely he was loving this foolish child
simply as his duty; his belonging, as his right he might struggle hard
for her, and if he gained her, be greatly disappointed; for how could
Eustacie appreciate him, little empty-headed, silly thing, who would be
amused and satisfied by any court flatterer?

However, Diane held out and played her part, caught scraps of the
conversation, and pieced them together, yet avoided all appearance
of inattention to M. de Selinville, and finally dismissed him, and
manoeuvred first Eustacie, and after a safe interval Berenger, out of
the