"That there is hope," I replied, "that there is hope; but yet, my good friend, there is much to be thought of."
"Not much of which I have not thought, sir," replied the merchant. "You have already agreed to put yourself entirely under my guidance for the next three days; but you have promised also to take a piece of advice without asking a question--are you ready so to do?"
"I am always ready to keep any promise," I replied. "What is the advice?"
"It is a somewhat harsh one," answered Martin Vern: "Neither more nor less than to execute a bill of sale to me this night of your chateau and estate of Les Bois, in consideration of which I will give you bills, money, or credit for sixty thousand crowns."
He spoke gravely, even sadly, and with a frowning brow; and when I commenced my reply with, "But--" he stopped me, saying,
"Yon promised, Monsieur de Cerons, to ask no questions. Hear me," he said, in a lower voice, and drawing me somewhat aside, "I know little--indeed, I know nothing--but I suspect and I fear much, Monsieur de Cerons; and think that if you can obtain the hand of your fair Louise with her father's consent, and fly with her at once far from Paris, you will do well and wisely. Follow my advice in this; take my note for the money; let me become the apparent proprietor of Les Bois till better times, and I will explain your conduct to these who gave it you. If you never need the money, you shall be free to give it back and keep the land. At all events, you shelter yourself against the danger of confiscation."
What he said was so true that I should have been foolish to neglect it, suspicious as I still felt of the sudden change in the feelings of the court which had so completely taken in the admiral and the Queen of Navarre; and, on the spot, while his nephew, his brother, and Solomon Ahar were still present, the papers were drawn up between the merchant and myself, leaving him the nominal, though not the real, proprietor of the estate of Les Bois.
Not long after this, Martin Vern and myself were left alone, but the business of the day was not nearly over. He insisted that his house should be my home for the time; but, ere he suffered me to retire to rest, he kept me in conversation for two or three hours more, explaining to me all his views with mercantile brevity and accuracy; and my conduct during the following day, which I am now about to detail, was the result of the consultation that we then held.
At length, tired and exhausted, I went to the room prepared for me, and no prince's palace could certainly have afforded me more comfortable or luxurious accommodation. I was too tired, however, to sleep for some time; and, ere I had enjoyed any real repose for more than two hours, young Martin Vern entered my room and took his seat by my bedside. He remained for more than half an hour, and his conversation was not, like that of his uncle, devoted entirely to business. He talked of the affairs of the day, and discussed some light, some serious topics, with which my readers would be but little edified. It seemed to me, however, that there was something labouring on his mind all the time while we conversed; and, as he rose to depart, he put his head close down to mine, saying, in a whisper,
"Whenever you hear the great bell of St. Germain l'Auxerrois ring at an unusual hour, set off out of Paris if it be day, and fly to me if it be night."