"We are of Picardy, your eminence."
The voice was singularly sweet and soft, and a strange and undefinable resemblance in its tones to some other voice I had heard struck me, but I could not fix upon anything.
"The Duchess says you are anxious to serve; would it not have been easier to send you to the Duke?"
St. Armande looked round with a heightened colour, and then replied, speaking in the same low, soft tones:
"If your eminence will kindly read the letter, you will perceive that my desire was to see something of the court of Rome before joining the duke."
D'Amboise glanced at the letter again, and an odd smile passed over his face.
"I see," he added, "the postscript--My dear Chevalier, Madame de la Tremouille's requests are commands to me. If you will do me the honour of joining my suite, I shall be delighted. Permit me to introduce you to the Cavaliere Donati, who is also a new friend."
I bowed and extended my hand, and St. Armande placed his within mine. It was small and delicate as a woman's, and as I clasped it for a moment, it felt as chill and cold as death.