patron in Monseigneur the Duc d'Enghien. My extravagance and my
follies brought me many reproofs from the Bishop of Seez, but the good
man's warnings were in vain, and might have been shouted to the stars.
They were certainly at times loud enough to be heard there.

I often met Simon, now Vidame d'Orrain. He was high in favour with the
Dauphin, who succeeded to the throne as Henri II., and his mistress,
Diane de Poitiers, whom he made Duchess of Valentinois. By tacit
consent there was an armed peace between us, though I well knew he
would take any chance that might arise to my injury. As it was, we
met, and passed each other without greeting, and in silence, ever with
black looks, and hands on the hilts of our swords.

My acres began to diminish and the woods of St. Martin to go down.
Things, in fact, were going from bad to worse, when war with the
Emperor broke out afresh, and I was amongst the first of those who
volunteered under Enghien for the Italian campaign. There I did my
part, and shared in the day of Cerisolles as a captain in the Light
Horse of Monsieur de Randan. Then, on the peace, back to Paris once
more and the old life; with this difference, that now there was no
restraining hand over me, for my great-uncle was dead. He left me his
blessing, his copy of "Plutarch's Lives," and thirty crowns of the
sun--all his fortune--for, though Bishop of Seez, he was a true
shepherd of God, and laid up for himself all his treasures on high.

It was impossible that things could go on much longer without disaster,
and the death--murder, rather--of that gallant prince the Duc d'Enghien
deprived me of a protector upon whom I could always rely. This,
followed by an unfortunate duel, the circumstances of which will be
detailed later, precipitated matters. The Edict of Fontainebleau
served as a weapon to my enemies, and it was put in force with the
utmost rigour against me. My principal accuser was my unnatural
step-brother the Vidame d'Orrain. He went so far as to charge me with
aiding and harbouring the members of the New Heresy, and the discovery
of a small leaflet printed at Geneva amongst my books was held to be
sufficient proof against me. The affair of the duel I might have lived
through, but this meant death. I took refuge in flight; it was the
only course. I was condemned in my absence by the Chambre Ardente to
the extreme penalty, and what remained of my property was given to
Simon, who shared it