Then, laying his finger on his lips as an injunction to secresy, he left the room without waiting for farther question.
CHAPTER VIII.
I need hardly here detail my visit to the Admiral de Coligny, which was my first act after rising the next morning, as that visit had no results either affecting myself or the Protestant cause. I had, in the mean time, however, written to my cousin, giving him tidings of his sons, and beseeching to speak with him on matters of deep importance to us both. I said all that was kind, all that was affectionate; and I besought him to give me an interview alone, if it were but of a few minutes, before midday.
On my return to the merchant's house I found an answer. It was not in his handwriting, though an attempt had evidently been made to imitate it; and the reply, though given in an affected tone of courtesy, was tantamount to a refusal.
The Baron de Blancford, it said, would be very happy to see me, as well as any other of his near relations, and would receive me whenever I chose to call upon him; but, at the same time, to save me unnecessary trouble, it might be as well to let me know that he should not be able to entertain me till after the following Monday. The letter went on to add some unmeaning compliments on my valour and distinction, and some heartless thanks for the care and attention I had shown his sons.
After I had read it I handed it to good Martin Vern, whose only comment was, "Well, then, we must go to the halls of the Parliament, where all is already prepared for us. Come, seigneur, I am at your service."
It was, I confess, most painful to me to enter into open contest with the father of Louise de Blancford, and I determined that nothing should draw from me one angry word or rash expression. We were upon the ground first, however; and, as I walked up and down in the hall of last steps, Martin Vern somewhat reassured me by telling me that I should find my cousin a completely altered being.
In about ten minutes there was a slight movement among the number of petitioners and others at the farther end of the hall, and an old man advanced, with an upright carriage but slow step, towards the entrance of the great chamber. He was pale, and much shrivelled with age; but, though small in stature, he was dignified, and his eye seemed to have lost none of its fire. On seeing Martin Vern, he stopped; and turned his eyes on me for a moment; but the next instant he advanced and took me by the hand.
"I cannot be mistaken," he said. "This must be Monsieur de Cerons. My dear young friend! I rejoice to meet you once before I go to meet your father again in those mansions which I doubt not he has reached, and which I humbly trust in Christ that I may be also permitted soon to enter."
I needed no other words to tell me that this was the President des Chappes, of whom Martin Vern had spoken; and, after a few words more of inquiry and retrospect, the worthy magistrate turned the conversation to the subject which had brought me thither.