"It is said here that the war has begun again."
"If it has not, it soon will, Pierre, and when it is finished, the Sieur Le Blanc will once more be master of his castle."
"Heaven grant it, monsieur," said he earnestly, as I rode off.
The state of the country west of Le Blanc was even more deplorable than what I had seen during my journey to Tanlay. The fields were bare both of corn and of cattle; the villagers were starving; the people of the towns went about in fear and trembling; the king's troops robbed as they pleased without restraint.
At Poictiers I found the citizens in a state of dangerous excitement. Armed bands, some Huguenots, some Catholics, patrolled the streets, singing and shouting, and uttering threats of vengeance. Fearful of being mixed up in these disturbances, I alighted before the door of the first decent inn, gave my horse to the ostler, and entered.
"Your streets are a trifle dangerous for a peaceful traveller," I remarked to the landlord, who showed me to a room.
"What would you, monsieur?" he asked, with a shrug of the shoulders; "the times are evil. These miserable heretics disturb the whole country with their senseless brawls. But the mischief will be stamped out before long."
"How?" I said. "Has not the king granted them the privilege of worshipping in their own way?"
"Ah, monsieur, that was meant but for a time. The Queen-Mother will make a clean sweep of their rights as soon as she has power enough. And it is said," here he lowered his voice to a confidential whisper, "that a royal army is already marching from Paris. But monsieur is hungry?"
"Hungry and thirsty both," I replied. "What is that?" for the sounds of angry voices came from the outside.