'No; the mother of his half-sister, the famous Mademoiselle Marie Louise, who is now in Paris. It was also visited with great solemnity by his present majesty Louis XIII., when he was besieging St. Michel four years ago; and on that occasion his favourite, Madame d'Amboise, laid all her rings and bracelets on the shrine. It is to be visited by Mademoiselle of Lorraine, after her marriage with Count Pappenheim—an event to which I look forward with a somewhat selfish interest.'
'Why?'
'Because the wedding-dress of the bride is to be my gift, as keeper of the reliques.'
From this musty garrulity and monastic gossip, of which—with a mind so preoccupied—I felt heartily weary, I was relieved on Father Colville being summoned by an old Benedictine; and just as he retired, my attention was attracted by a handsome and well-appointed cavalier, who, with two valets, like himself well mounted and armed, rode hastily up to a large tree which stood before La Pomms d'Eve, an auberge opposite the abbey. Imperiously summoning the landlord, he called for wine, but without dismounting.
Something in the air of this young spark, and in the cock of his feather, seemed familiar to me; and, on approaching, I recognised the young Marquis de Toneins, camp-master of the Regiment de Normandie, and son and heir of the Marechal Duc de la Force.
CHAPTER XLI.
STARTLING TIDINGS.
'And let me the canakin clink, clink!
A soldier's a man;
A life's but a span;
Why, then, let a soldier drink!'
I hummed the song of the subtle Iago in the Moor of Venice, and, like him, adding—
'Some wine, ho!' stepped towards the tree under which the Marquis and his two followers were regaling. The latter stared at me with the usual insolence of liveried valets, until their master raised his hat, exclaiming—