hom Jacques detested so
thoroughly. He was a lawyer, who, by some means, had amassed wealth and
lands. Numerous stories, all evil, were related of him, and it was
rumoured that he had long served as a useful tool to persons in high
places. At least he had prospered exceedingly in some mysterious manner,
and it was said he had been promised a patent of nobility. I called for
Pierre, and asked if he had heard anything fresh lately of this upstart
lawyer.

"No, monsieur," he answered, "Cordel had gone away before the soldiers
came, and he has not yet returned. He went hurriedly, after a visit from
the cavalier who slept here. Monsieur does not think----"

"For the present I think nothing, Pierre. I am tired and will go to bed.
Get me an early breakfast, so that I can proceed on my journey in the
cool of the morning."

Of what use were my suspicions, even if I proved them to be correct? The
mischief was done, and I could not undo it. My father was a fugitive
from his home, to which he dared not return, and it only remained for me
to join him.

I went to bed, and, in spite of my anxiety, was soon asleep, for the
long journey from Noyers had been both tedious and fatiguing. Pierre
called me early, and while the village still slumbered I set forth.

"Monsieur goes to Rochelle?" asked the old man, as I vaulted lightly
into the saddle.

"Yes, at present I intend going to Rochelle."

"It is said here that the war has begun again."

"If it has not, it soon will, Pierre, and when it is finished, the Sieur
Le Blanc will once more be master of his castle."

"Heaven grant it, monsieur," said he earnestly, as I rode off.

The state of the country west of Le Blanc was even more deplorable than
what I had seen during my journey to Tanlay. The fields were bare both
of corn and of cattle; the villagers were starving; the people of the
towns went about in fear and trembling; the king's troops robbed as they
pleased without restraint.

At Poictiers I found the citizens in a state of dangerous excitement.
Armed bands, some Huguenots, some Catholics, patrolled the streets,
singing and shouting, and uttering threats of vengeance. Fearful of
being mixed up in these disturbances, I alighted before the door of the
first decent inn, gave my horse to the ostler, and entered.

"Your streets are a trifle dangerous for a peaceful traveller," I
remarked to the landlord, who showed me to a room.

"What would you, monsieur?" he asked, with