"There is always a home for any Protestant here, and she can not complain of how we have treated her. I think myself she will elect to stay with us, unless----"
"Unless?"
"Something more tempting offers," and again he laughed. "She might, monsieur will understand, fall in love. With--say--some hero."
For a moment Martin wondered if Cavalier alluded to himself; in another he knew that he did so. There was no mistaking the glance in the Camisard's eyes. But he gave him no opportunity of saying anything further on the subject, asking instead if he might be confided in with regard to the strange story which, when told to Urbaine, was to quench every spark of love and affection in her heart for Baville, the man who, with all his faults, had cherished and loved her so fondly.
"No, monsieur," Cavalier replied. "That can not be--as yet. Later you will doubtless know all, know the reason why Urbaine Ducaire should change her love for him to an undying hate. Meanwhile I have to ask a favour of you."
"A favour? What is there in my power to do?"
"This: The power to help us end this war--you, a Protestant, an Englishman."
"I can not understand. God knows I desire nothing better."
"Soit! Then aid us. Thus: The English agent is at Nîmes, disguised. He passes under the name of Flottard, and has plans for the use of your admiral, who will bring his fleet to Cette or Toulon when the time is ripe. Unfortunately, however, this man, this soi-disant Flottard, has not the French very clearly. As for us--poor weavers, carders, husbandmen--what should we know of other tongues? We can not speak a word of your language. Monsieur Martin, you are a Protestant, an Englishman. Before God I think you English the greatest of all. Help us, help us to be free without more bloodshed, to worship the Almighty as we see fit, to bow our necks no more before the Scourge of God. Help us! Help us!" he repeated, "us of your own faith."
Stirred to the heart's core by the man's appeal, though he scarce needed such impulse, every fibre in him, every drop of blood in his veins, tingling for those of his own faith, of his own loved religion, he answered quietly, saying again: