"

"I care nothing for Rochelle just now; 'tis of my mother and sister I
would hear. Are they well? Are they cheerful? Have they written to me?
Speak out, man; is your tongue in a knot?"

"I would it were," said he, "if that would alter the news I bring. You
must brace yourself, monsieur, to face another calamity. But here is a
letter from Mademoiselle Jeanne."

"From Jeanne?" I repeated, and at that I understood the truth. My mother
was dead!

I read the blotted and tear-stained paper with moist eyes. On the very
day when we started from Narbonne on our memorable march, my poor
mother, who had never really recovered from the shock of my father's
death, breathed her last. Concerning herself, Jeanne said little except
that she was living in the household of the Queen of Navarre, who was
holding her court at Rochelle.

After telling Felix and Roger the sad news, I went away to brood over my
sorrow alone. It was a heavy blow, and the heavier because so
unexpected. The chance that my mother might die during my absence had
never struck me, and I had been looking forward impatiently to meeting
her again.

Fortunately, the newly-signed peace brought me many active duties. The
army was disbanded, and most of our chiefs began their preparations for
a visit to Rochelle. Felix and I were kept busy, and indeed until the
journey began we had few idle moments.

The little band of Englishmen who had survived the war--gallant hearts,
they had spent themselves so recklessly that barely a dozen
remained--accompanied us, and naturally we saw a great deal of Roger.

"I suppose," said Felix to him one day, "that now you will return to
England?"

"My comrades are returning at once," he replied, "but I shall stay a
while longer; perhaps even pay a visit to Paris before I leave."

"If you wish to see Paris," said Felix, "it will be well to go quickly,
before the clouds burst again"; but Roger observed with a smile that he
intended to stay in Rochelle for a few weeks at least.

Our entry into the city was very different from that after the rout of
Montcontour. Cannon boomed, church bells rang merrily, the streets were
gay with flags and flowers and triumphal arches; while the citizens,
dressed in their best, with happy smiling faces, cheered until they were
hoarse, as the Admiral, with Henry of Bearn on his right and the
youthful Conde on his left, rode through the gateway.

Jeanne, with several of the queen's ladies, was sitting