The Two Dianas, Volume 2 (of 3)

Diane de Poitiers.
Three weeks had elapsed. The last days of September were at hand; and no change of moment had taken place in the respective situations of the different characters represented in this tale.
Jean Peuquoy had paid to Lord Wentworth the trifling sum at which he had shrewdly had his ransom fixed. More than that, he had obtained leave to settle at Calais. We ought to say, however, that he seemed to be in no haste to commence operations. He seemed to be of a very inquisitive and yet careless disposition; in fact, the honest burgher might be seen from morning till night sauntering about on the walls, and talking with the soldiers of the garrison, while apparently thinking no more about the weaver's trade than if he were an abbé or a monk.
Nevertheless, he had either not tried or not been able to induce his cousin Pierre to be his companion in this life of idleness; and the skilful armorer had never turned out more or more finely executed work.
Gabriel's melancholy increased from day to day. He received nothing but general news from Paris. France was beginning to breathe again. The Spaniards and English had wasted too much precious time in besieging and reducing places of no importance; thus the country had had an opportunity to recover its balance, and it seemed as if both France and the king would be saved. This news, to which the heroic defence of St. Quentin had had no small share in imparting such a favorable character, no doubt was cheering to Gabriel; yet he heard not a word of Henri II., of Coligny, of his father, or of Diane! That reflection cast a shadow upon his brow and made it impossible for him to respond, as he might have done at another time, to Lord Wentworth's friendly overtures.
The easy-going and unreserved governor seemed really to have taken a great liking to his prisoner. His ennui, and a little feeling of chagrin during the last few days, had no doubt had their share in arousing this feeling. The society of a young and clever gentleman of the French court was an invaluable distraction in stupid Calais. Thus it was that Lord Wentworth never allowed two days in succession to go by without calling upon Vicomte d'Exmès, and insisted upon his dining with him three times a week at his own table. This excessive affection was rather oppressive to Gabriel, all things considered; for the governor laughingly swore that he would not release his hold upon his captive till the last extremity; that he would never consent to let him go on parole; and that until the last crown of Gabriel's ransom should be well and truly paid, he would not yield to the cruel necessity of parting from so dear a friend.