es of
skin and bone; the villages were half-emptied of their inhabitants,
while those who remained resembled skeletons rather than human beings.

"And all this," exclaimed my companion bitterly, "is the work of the
Italian woman and her friends. It is time that Frenchmen took their
country into their own hands again, and out of the clutches of these
foreign harpies!"

"That can be done only by another war, Jacques, and surely we have had
enough of cutting one another's throats!"

"It must be either war or murder," he responded. "The Guises won't rest
until they become masters. France will swim in blood one of these days.
Do you know, monsieur, I am glad that Mademoiselle Jeanne is not at the
castle!"

Jeanne was my sister, who, since the peace, had been living at Rochelle
with an invalid aunt. She was seventeen years of age, a year older than
myself, and a girl of beauty and courage.

"You are in a gloomy mood, Jacques, and fancying all kinds of dangers
that are not likely to happen. Why, even the stranger we met at Le Blanc
alarmed you."

"He alarms me yet," replied Jacques gravely; "he is a bird of ill
omen."

"Come," I said banteringly, "let us have a canter; it will clear the
cobwebs from your brain, besides helping us on our way to Saintbreuil,"
the little town where we intended to pass the night and to procure fresh
horses. Jacques had an acquaintance at Saintbreuil--an innkeeper who
secretly favoured the Cause without possessing sufficient courage to
declare his opinions.

The night had grown somewhat late by the time of our arrival, but we
managed to secure admittance, and Jacques had no difficulty in finding
the inn--a fairly decent house in a small square.

"A quiet room, Edouard, and some supper," said my companion to the host,
"and serve us yourself. There is no need that all Saintbreuil should
learn of our being here. And be quick, for we are tired and hungry, and
there is business to transact."

The landlord, a nervous-looking fellow, took us quickly to a chamber at
the farther end of the house, and in a short time we were sitting down
to a well-spread table.

"Is the town quiet?" asked Jacques presently.

"Quiet, but uneasy. The citizens are afraid of they know not what. There
is a whisper that the peace will be broken."

"Humph! there is more than a whisper in some parts; but listen to me,
Edouard; monsieur and I are travelling fast. We have nearly foundered
our animals, and yet it is n