"He has suffered it to lure him here," answered Lord Montagu, "when no other inducement would have brought him. He will allow it to keep him here three days longer, when in truth he is all anxiety to hurry into France and tell the cardinal what he has discovered. I have played him as your skilful angler plays a lively fish. Once his ruling passion discovered, I have led him by it where I wished. It was like a ring in a bull's nose, which he was forced to follow, with or against his will."
"Then does your lordship propose to stay three more days in Aix?" asked the page.
"Ay, or till I receive one more note from Scaglia," answered Montagu. "Then all will be settled irrevocably: Signor Morini may bestow himself where he will, and we may do so likewise. You are impatient to hurry on, I see. Impatience is youth's quality, deliberation is man's; and so, my boy, you must keep your wishes tranquil, for I certainly shall not put spurs to mine."
"Of course, my lord, I must only follow where you lead," answered Edward, gayly. "I dare say your lordship believes I should bear the delay more patiently in Venice, and I will not deny the fact; but I suppose there is no time to go thither ere we depart."
"No, no, Ned! no!" replied Montagu. "I will not trust you near that little siren again while we have business in hand,—at least till you learn the great art of the present day, to let love and policy go hand in hand and yet never let the former impede the latter."
"A difficult task," said Edward.
"Ay," answered Montagu; "and those who try it and miss often find a bloody pillow. But here comes Morini again."
Edward immediately took his leave, and retired to obtain a chamber for himself in the inn, where he could meditate over the conversation which had just passed. It was satisfactory to him that his connection with Lucette had been acknowledged. He had previously shrunk from the thought of all mention of the subject to Lord Montagu, with the sensitive timidity of early love; but now the ice was broken, and he feared no more. But one point in that conversation was very painful to him. He saw that, if Montagu did not absolutely suspect him, his lord's confidence, which had hitherto been unbounded, was shaken. It was in vain Edward said to himself, "These great men are bound to be suspicious." There was a voice within him which always added, "At all events, he ought not to suspect me."
His musings were not suffered to continue long uninterrupted, however. Pierrot and Jacques Beaupré soon arrived with the horses. The two junior pages of Lord Montagu—Henry Freeland and George Abbot—came to see him, and he himself had to visit the chamber of Mr. Oakingham, a companion of Lord Montagu's, who was travelling with him in no very well-defined capacity. Oakingham was still ill from over-fatigue, and Edward sat with him for some time, trying to amuse and soothe him. Thus passed the greater part of the morning, and the two following days were fully occupied by preparations for departure; but the thought that Lord Montagu confided in him less still rankled in Edward's mind. He thought he perceived evidences of doubt in many things where perhaps no doubt existed; and he said to himself, more than once, "I cannot bear it long." The time, however, was rapidly approaching when, according to the custom of those days, Lord Montagu would feel it incumbent upon him to provide for his young friend, either in the army or at the court; and Edward resolved to wait and be patient as long as it was possible.