'Ma foi! a droll reason.'

'It is not to be wondered at when we all know that a few years ago Robert Earl of Orkney lost his head for the same heinous crime. My father was released, but the affront rankled in his mind. It was resolved to poniard the Lord High Commissioner on the throne, at the moment when the last word of the royal letter was read; and the contention for this desperate office—for who should Bell-the-Cat—was so keen, that lots were cast, and ere long the lots were reduced to two—my father, Sir Arthur Blane of Blanerne, and Sir Robert Douglas of Spot, Viscount of Belhaven, an aged peer who was stone blind, and who, in his youth, had been master of the horse to the Duke of Rothsay, a gentleman of the bedchamber to James VI., and member of the Privy Council. To him only would my father yield place, for in other years they had been old comrades and served together in France.

'So the terrible and eventful day came at last; the Parliament met at Edinburgh with unusual grandeur and gloom; four hundred representatives of the Scottish people were there, with darkened brows, with angry hearts and sharp swords by their sides. The commissioner sat upon the throne; before him lay the crown, the sword of state, the sceptre and all the royal insignia; but behind stood the blind old Viscount of Belhaven holding his velvet robes by the left hand on pretence that, being aged and infirm, he wished to be near the Lord Nithsdale. His other hand was concealed in his bosom, and firmly grasped a dagger. Beside him stood my stern father, who, that he might not be unemployed, had taken upon him the task of slaying the Viscount Ayr, whom the king had created Earl of Dumfries, and who was a warm adherent of the intended Revocation—'

'Mon Dieu!' exclaimed Madame d'Amboise; 'I never heard of all this stabbing and assassination!'

'Because, madame, the proposed tragedy went no further than this terrible tableau; for the Earl of Nithsdale had learned something of what was awaiting him and other friends of our alien king; and after proceeding with the usual business of the parliament, he closed it abruptly, without producing the letter of revocation which would have plunged all Scotland into civil war; and after despatching messengers into Nithsdale, he returned—yea almost fled—to the court at London.'

'What meant the messengers?'

'You shall hear,' said I, making a violent effort to control the rage and grief that swelled in my breast; 'within a week after the closing of parliament my poor father was found dead on the verge of Lochar-moss—pierced by three balls from an arquebuse; and on that night our tower of Blanerne was burned to the ground, and all the country around it made desolate by six hundred mosstroopers of the Maxwell clan. Breaking through them sword in hand, after seeing my only living relative, a boy-brother about six years old, perish in the flames, I reached Edinburgh to lay my complaints before the authorities, but found them all the creatures of the king—a king Scottish by birth and blood, but English by breeding, residence, and sympathy! Oh cursed be the hour when Scotland gave a king unto her enemies! I appealed to the Secretary of State, but he was my good Lord Nithsdale's fast friend and near kinsman, so he smiled in my face. I appealed to the Lord Advocate; he was my Lord Dumfries' cousin, and bade me complain to the king in London. Being a placeman and a coward, he taunted my murdered father's memory; so I smote him on the mouth with my sword-hilt—yea, smote him down as I would have done a dog, and had again to fly. Destruction and pursuit dogged me close; but aided by the kind old Duke of Lennox, a kinsman of my mother, I obtained the letter which you hold and also shipping to Havre. There I landed safely, and found lodging with a countryman of my own, an honest vintner, who met me wandering sadly and irresolutely from street to street. He accosted me, as Scotsmen always greet each other in a foreign land, for his heart warmed to the St. Andrew's cross in my bonnet—and he was more than kind to me. I then took the public messenger to Paris, agreeing for fifteen francs to have a horse, lodgings, and food on the way; but I had to give the conductor a piece of thirteen sols. I reached Paris only last night, when an honest fellow, who proved to be an Englishman and a Protestant, guided me to an hotel, the Golden Fleur-de-lys in the Rue d'Ecosse. I spent the next day in wandering about the palace and gardens of the Luxembourg and the royal library, seeing the books of miniatures done by Monsieur Robert, the garden of the Tuileries, and the church of Notre Dame, the two massy towers, the antiquity and gloom of which charmed and soothed me; but alas, madame! I felt lonely and sad amid the roar and bustle of this vast and crowded city; I was ready to weep—yea, to weep like a child, when I thought of my ruined fortunes, my blighted family, and my father's ancient tower that looked down upon the Dee, and my native hills and heather braes that were far, far away!'

'And did you travel comfortably to Paris?'

'With more frugality than comfort, madame, remembering that he who sleeps without supper awakes without debt.'

'My poor boy! you will soon learn that two things are most necessary in this good and pious city of Paris—a drawn sword and a golden wand. But tell me,' she added, with a coquettish smile, and while dropping her voice and her eyelashes together, 'are you capable of feeling a deep love?'