ay. And the spy would not stab, for he saw he
could make me do his work for him. He saw I needed but a push to come to
open breach with my father. He gave the push. Oh, he could make me pull
his chestnuts from the fire well enough, burning my hands so that I
could never strike a free blow again. I was to be their slave, their
thrall forever!"

"Never that, monsieur; never that!"

"I am not so sure," he cried. "Had it not been for the advent of a stray
boy from Picardie, I trow Lucas would have put his purpose through. I
was blindfolded; I saw nothing. I knew my cousin Gervais to be morose
and cruel; yet I had done him no harm; I had always stood his friend. I
thought him shamefully used; I let myself be turned out of my father's
house to champion him. I had no more notion he was plotting my ruin than
a child playing with his dolls. I was their doll, mordieu! their toy,
their crazy fool on a chain. But life is not over yet. To-morrow I go to
pledge my sword to Henry of Navarre."

"Monsieur, if he comes to the faith--"

"Mordieu! faith is not all. Were he a pagan of the wilderness he were
better than these Leaguers. He fights honestly and bravely and
generously. He could have had the city before now, save that he will not
starve us. He looks the other way, and the provision-trains come in. But
the Leaguers, with all their regiments, dare not openly strike down one
man,--one man who has come all alone into their country,--they put a spy
into his house to eat his bread and betray him; they stir up his own kin
to slay him, that it may not be called the League's work. And they are
most Catholic and noble gentlemen! Nay, I am done with these pious
plotters who would redden my hands with my father's blood and make me
outcast and despised of all men. I have spent my playtime with the
League; I will go work with Henry of Navarre!"

I caught his fire.

"By St. Quentin," I cried, "we will beat these Leaguers yet!"

He laughed, yet his eyes burned with determination.

"By St. Quentin, shall we! You and I, Felix, you and I alone will
overturn the whole League! We will show them what we are made of. They
think lightly of me. Why not? I never took part with my father. I lazed
about in these gay Paris houses, bent on my pleasure, too shallow a fop
even to take sides in the fight for a kingdom. What should they see in
me but an empty-headed roisterer, frittering away his life in follies?
But they will find I am something more. W