"I am afraid, my good friend," answered Edward, "you would always be what the Catholics call a relapsed convert. As to serving me two years, Pierrot, God knows what will become of me before two years are over, and in the mean time I have little enough money for myself,—and none to keep a man upon."
"Well, well," cried Pierrot, joyfully, "I will run fortune with you! Only don't send me away, and don't fire at me any more, unless you see me drunk,—when it will be natural. But now tell me, Master Ned, where are you going now?"
"Into the lion's den, Pierrot," replied Edward, with a somewhat rueful smile: "I am going straight to the Cardinal de Richelieu."
"In the name of Heaven!" exclaimed Pierrot, with a look of astonishment, "do you know he is now besieging Rochelle with a powerful army? The king has fallen sick and gone back to Paris. The cardinal has tucked up his gown and turned soldier; and our poor friends in the city are already, they say, so badly off for food that they will soon have to eat each other. The cardinal will not let a mouse stir out, and if any one ventures beyond the walls they send a shot at him and drive him in again."
Edward mused without reply for some moments; and, while he was still silent, Jacques Beaupré came back to the little salle-à-manger and stood by the young gentleman's side.
"Poor Clement Tournon!" cried Edward, still musing.
"Ay, poor Clement Tournon!" said Jacques Beaupré, in a sad tone: "he is a good man, sir, and took care of me from my boyhood."
"I would give the world to save him," answered Edward. "Come, let us ride."
They were soon upon their horses. Edward mounted first and Pierrot last, having stopped to answer some questions of the host.
"What did he ask you?" said Edward, as they rode on.