im, being, as I said, a friend of friends to me.
It so happened that the University of Orange conferred degrees on
payment of fees without seeing or testing the candidate. My friend
Rabelais, who loves a merry jest, sent them the money for a Doctor's
degree for one Johannes Caballus, the same being his mule. And in due
course the parchment came; and so our friend there is as much a Doctor
of Laws as my lords the Bishops of Seez or Montpelier. But here comes
our dinner."

I need not say that the dinner was not the feast for giants that was
ordered; but, though it was plentiful, all that our old friend could
eat was a little dish of peas fried in fat, which he washed down with
thin wine and water. He kept all the talk to himself, delighting us
with a thousand merry quibbles and jests, until, finally, he called for
his mule, saying that he must depart.

"Mademoiselle," he said as he wished us farewell, "you are going on a
long journey, and I on a much longer, but I know that wherever you are
there will be the house of Thelema." And as I helped him to pull his
domino over his shoulders he whispered in my ear: "_Beati qui in domino
moriuntur_."

Then, slowly and painfully mounting his mule, and chuckling at his grim
jest, he ambled away, the landlord bowing respectfully to him as he
passed.

"Who is he?" asked Diane.

"That, mademoiselle," said our host, "is the Doctor Rabelais, whose
name is honoured as that of the King here. He has a small estate
called La Deviniere hard by, and comes here at times for his health.
He returns to Paris to-morrow; but he will never come back--that I
know." And he shook his head sorrowfully.

* * * * * *

We never met again, for Rabelais died a month later; but in my library
at Orrain, which now contains close upon a hundred volumes, I have a
copy of his works bound in red velvet, and clasped with silver. Nor
ever do I touch it without thinking of that rose-clad summer-house in
the old garden in Touraine.

CHAPTER XIX

THE WOMAN IN BLACK AND WHITE

A few days later we saw the cliffs of Chateaudon, from whose heights
the stronghold of Dunois looks down upon the town crouching beneath.
On arrival we found a lodging in the little square below the castle,
and here I thought it necessary to call a halt for a couple of days.
Thus far our journey to Paris had been free from serious misadventure;
but I was full of fears, for I knew not what fo