e, looking from him
to Philip, and then to the guide, who poured out a whole stream of
explanation before Philip had arranged three words of French.

'You hear, sir,' said Berenger, as the man finished: 'I came hither to
seek my wife, the Lady of Ribaumont.'

'Eh!' exclaimed the _cure_, 'do I then see M. le Marquis de Nid de
Merle?'

'No!' cried Berenger; 'no, I am not that _scelerat_! I am her true
husband, the Baron de Ribaumont.'

'The Baron de Ribaumont perished at the St. Bartholomew,' said the
_cure_, fixing his eyes on him, as though to confute an impostor.

'Ah, would that I had!' said Berenger. 'I was barely saved with the life
that is but misery now. I came to seek her--I found what you know. They
told me that you saved the children. Ah, tell me where mine is!--all
that is left me.'

'A few poor babes I was permitted to rescue, but very few. But let me
understand to whom I speak,' he added, much perplexed. 'You, sir---'

'I am her husband, married at five years old--contract renewed last
year. It was he whom you call Nid de Merle who fell on me, and left
me for dead. A faithful servant saved my life, but I have lain sick
in England till now, when her letter to my mother brought me to La
Sablerie, to find--to find THIS. Oh, sir, have pity on me! Tell me if
you know anything of her, or if you can give me her child.'

'The orphans I was able to save are--the boys at nurse here, the girls
with the good nuns at Lucon,' said the priest, with infinite pity in his
look. 'Should you know it, sir?'

'I would--I should,' said Berenger. 'But it is a girl. Ah, would that it
were here! But you--you, sir--you know more than these fellows. Is there
no--no hope of herself?'

'Alas! I fear I can give you none,' said the priest; 'but I will tell
all I know; only I would fain see you eat, rest, and be dried.'

'How can I?' gasped he, allowing himself, however, to sink into a chair;
and the priest spoke:

'Perhaps you know, sir, that the poor lady fled from her friends, and
threw herself upon the Huguenots. All trace had been lost, when, at a
banquet given by the mayor of Lucon, there appeared some _patisseries_,
which some ecclesiastic, who had enjoyed the hospitality of Bellaise,
recognized as peculiar to the convent there, where she had been brought
up. They were presented to the mayor by his friend, Bailli la Grasse,
who had boasted of the excellent _confitures_ of the heretic pastor's
daughter that lodged in th