rvice it was given to me. I have held it
a month--and now--it is waste-paper." And with that he flung it into
the drawer, which he shut with a clash.

"They have need of me in Italy again, they say; and when I am gone,
mark my words, these psalm-singing Huguenots, these Chrysostoms, whom I
have made skip like the hills in their own hymn, will be in Poitiers in
a week." And he laughed harshly as he went on: "They fear I shall turn
against them, and throw in my lot with these others--I--Blaise de
Montluc! Tell them I am a soldier of my King, that I am but a poor
gentleman of the South, who when his time is done will hang up his
sword in his Chateau of Estillac, and die there, unless God answers his
prayer and lets him die on the field."

I saw before me the sudden breaking of great hopes, and, as I then
thought, the ruin of a great career, and stammered out: "Monsieur, you
will soon be back."

He smiled, and then, as if pushing all aside from his mind: "This will
at any rate make a chapter of my commentaries. I am writing them in
the style of Caesar, whom I hope to surpass in this. At present, I
have carried them as far as the sieges of Parma and La Mirandole by the
armies of the Holy Father and the Emperor." With this he pointed at a
pile of manuscript that lay on the table, as he added, with true Gascon
conceit: "It is better that they who make history should write it
rather than leave it to some scoundrel clerk, as I hear Vieilleville is
doing."

He seemed to have forgotten his misfortune in the contemplation of his
writing, and on my applauding his sentiment, he, looking at my arm,
which was still in its sling, asked how I had hurt it. I told him
briefly, and he listened in silence, until I gave him information of De
Ganache and the Huguenots at Richelieu. Then he stopped me.

"Are you sure they were there last night?"

"Yes, and probably till late to-day."

"Then we will have most of them here as our guests, monsieur, in a
couple of days at the latest. I want De Ganache badly, and would like
much to finish with him ere they finish with me."

I thought of Diane, and in my heart sent up a prayer that, on this
occasion at least, the Huguenots might escape Montluc's claws; and the
General went on:

"I see, monsieur, the Queen has recommended you as one to be trusted
entirely--and the Queen is not easily deceived. You are, she says, a
citizen of Paris, and have borne arms--where?"

"In the Milanese