more plainly dressed. Rosny returned his greeting and would have passed
on; but the stranger, interposing with a still lower bow, invited him to
take his seat, which was near the fire and sheltered from the draught,
at the same time making as if he would himself remove to another place.

'Nay,' said my companion, surprised by such an excess of courtesy, 'I do
not see why I should take your place, sir.'

'Not mine only,' the old man rejoined, looking at him with a
particularity and speaking with an emphasis which attracted our
attention, 'but those of many others, who I can assure you will very
shortly yield them up to you, whether they will or not.'

M. de Rosny shrugged his shoulders and passed on, affecting to suppose
the old man wandered. But privately he thought much of his words, and
more when he learned that he was an astrologer from Paris, who had the
name, at any rate in this country, of having studied under Nostradamus.
And whether he drew fresh hopes from this, or turned his attention more
particularly as we approached Blois to present matters, certainly he
grew more cheerful, and began again to discuss the future, as though
assured of his master's recovery.

'You have never been to the King's Court?' he said presently, following
up, as I judged, a train of thought in his own mind. 'At Blois, I mean.'

'No; nor do I feel anxious to visit it,' I answered. 'To tell you the
truth, M. le Baron,' I continued with some warmth, 'the sooner me are
beyond Blois, the better I shall be pleased. I think we run some risk
there, and, besides, I do not fancy a shambles. I do not think I could
see the king without thinking of the Bartholomew, nor his chamber
without thinking of Guise.'

'Tut, tut!' he said, 'you have killed a man before now.'

'Many,' I answered.

'Do they trouble you?'

'No, but they were killed in fair fight,' I replied, 'That makes a
difference.'

'To you,' he said drily. 'But you are not the King of France, you see.
Should you ever come across him,' he continued, flicking his horse's
ears, a faint smile on his lips, 'I will give you a hint. Talk to him of
the battles at Jarnac and Moncontour, and praise your Conde's father! As
Conde lost the fight and, he won it, the compliment comes home to him.
The more hopelessly a man has lost his powers, my friend, the more
fondly he regards them, and the more highly he prizes the victories he
call no longer gain.'

'Ugh!' I muttered.

'Of the two part