One morning as our chief came from his chamber, the ante-room being filled with his gentlemen and the leaders of the army, he stopped and laid his hand with a kindly touch on my shoulder.
"My young friend," he said, "we are all proud of your father. The reports from St. Jean d'Angely declare that he is the very heart of the defence."
"I thank you, my lord, for your kind words," I stammered, blushing crimson with pride, for to hear my father thus honoured was far sweeter than any praise of myself could have been.
And a day or two later Rochelle was ringing with his name. Men lauded his courage and prowess, speaking of him almost as if he were our beloved leader himself.
Heading a body of troops in the early morning, he had sallied forth, destroyed a big gun, and driven the besiegers pell-mell from the trenches. Anjou had scowled angrily, but King Charles was reported to have declared it a most brilliant feat of arms.
It was a proud day for all of us, but our joy was shortly changed to mourning. Coligny, with most of his attendants, had left Rochelle for Saintes; the rest of us, with two hundred troopers, were to depart the next day. I had spent the evening at home, and accompanied by Felix had returned to the hotel.
"Is that you, Le Blanc?" cried one of my comrades. "What means this treasonable correspondence with the enemy?" and he handed me a sealed packet.
"For me?" I exclaimed, taking it in surprise. "Where does it come from?"
"Ah," said he, laughing merrily, "that is a nice question to ask! One of Monseigneur's rascals brought it under a flag of truce to the officer at the gate, and he sent it here. I should have put you under arrest, and forwarded the correspondence to the Admiral."
I looked at the letter curiously, and with a vague feeling of uneasiness. It bore my name, but the handwriting was unfamiliar. "One of Anjou's troopers!" I muttered.