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Still he was aware that a French army was on its way to attack the Spaniards in Italy; he was under instructions to take the earliest advantage which his position upon the frontier might offer him; he knew that both theory and practice authorized a general, in that age, to break his fast, even in time of truce, if a tempting morsel should present itself; and, above all, he thoroughly understood the character of his nearest antagonist, the new governor of the Netherlands, Philibert of Savoy, whom he knew to be the most unscrupulous chieftain in Europe.
Philibert of Savoy, commanding for Philip with Spanish and English troops, marched into France as far as to the Somme, and laid siege to St. Quentin, which was bravely defended by Amiral de Coligny.
On the 10th of, August 1557, an inauspicious day in the history of France, the roar of cannon was still heard at six in the evening in the plains of St. Quentin; where the French army had just been destroyed by the united troops of England and Spain, commanded by the famous Captain Emanuel Philibert, Duke of Savoy.
By something erratic in his look Lecour recognised the would-be slayer of de Léry, and his hand crept towards the hilt of his sword. "Don't be afraid of me," said the maniac; "we are allies." "I am not afraid," Lecour answered. "What do you wish of me?" "To give you this," Philibert exclaimed gaily, handing him a packet. "Take it; your battle is won."
Her voice, tremulous in its power, flowed in a thousand harmonies on the enraptured ears of her listeners. Even the veteran card-players left a game of whist unfinished, to cluster round the angelic singer. Pierre Philibert sat like one in a trance. He loved music, and understood it passing well.
Her glasses lay upon the page, and she sat musing by the open window, seldom looking out, however, for her thoughts were chiefly inward. The return of Pierre Philibert, her foster child, had filled her with joy and thankfulness, and she was pondering in her mind the details of a festival which the Bourgeois intended to give in honor of the return of his only son.
"You are a true friend, Philibert," said he; "ten men like you might still save this Colony! But it is past the hour for the Council, and still Bigot delays! He must have forgotten my summons." "I think not; but he might have to wait until Cadet, Varin, Deschenaux, and the rest of them were in a condition fit to travel," answered Philibert with an air of disgust.
La Corne stood up erect as if in mental defiance of a new danger. "Pierre Philibert will return home to-night," replied the Governor; "he carries the sharpest sword in New France. A duel between him and Le Gardeur would crown the machinations of the secret plotters in this murder. He will certainly avenge his father's death, even upon Le Gardeur." La Corne St.
However she barely returned his bows, for she still disdained that paltry foreign priest, and only tolerated him in order to please Monsignor Nani and Viscount Philibert de la Choue. A witness every evening of the anxious delight and impatience of Benedetta and Dario, Pierre by degrees became almost as impassioned as themselves, as desirous for an early solution.
If Pierre Philibert grew more animated in the presence of those bright eyes, which were at once appreciative and sympathizing, Amelie drank in the conversation of Pierre as one drinks the wine of a favorite vintage. If her heart grew a little intoxicated, what the wonder?
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