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"There is your sword," I remarked, pointing to the weapon lying on the table. "Let it lie monsieur," he answered with a mournful smile; "a dead man has no use for a sword." Now I may have done a very foolish thing, for this L'Estang was a daring soldier, crafty, able, and resolute. He was an enemy to be feared far more than many a general in the armies of the League.
From all I hear, I really believe he would be pleased if they never came back." I read portions of my sister's letter to Jacques, but when I remarked that our troubles were nearly at an end, he shook his head, saying, "Those who live will see, monsieur." L'Estang Tells His Story
Do not make any sound, monsieur. If the citizens were aware of your being here they would murder us." She went out and fastened the door, leaving me to drink the soup at my leisure. So, it was Renaud L'Estang who had saved me. Truly that little action of mine in Rochelle had borne good fruit.
I exclaimed, "Etienne Cordel is too timorous a knave to play with naked steel, or even to fire a pistol from behind a hedge!" "But not too timorous to employ others," said L'Estang. "There are scores of ruffians in Paris ready to earn a few crowns, and Cordel knows where to seek them. That is what brought me here to-night. Weigh well what I say, monsieur.
"As I have the honour of belonging to this illustrious family," said Isabelle a little impatiently, for she was exceedingly annoyed by this banter, "too much humility would not become me, therefore I will not say that I consider myself unworthy of such an alliance; but if the Marquis de l'Estang should ask my hand of my father, I would refuse him.
"A friendly hand could shoot a hole through a cloak. Of course, it is just possible Casimir did not come from L'Estang at all. It is as easy to kill two messengers as one, and the first was killed." "But how would he know what was in the letter? It had not been opened." "I had not thought of that," said Jacques. "It drives me back on my first suspicion, which monsieur does not like.
"The writer of the letter from St. Jean d'Angely," I said. "He must have come from Paris on purpose to see me! What does he want? Does he bring news? What a dolt Jacques is! Why is he so long? Ah, they are coming!" and in my eagerness I hurried to the door. My visitor was heavily cloaked and closely muffled, and he made no movement toward undoing his wrappings. "Is it L'Estang?"
Several times during the afternoon I returned to the window overlooking the narrow street, but toward evening I lay down and slept, and when a noise at the door wakened me the room was nearly dark. "Monsieur," a voice exclaimed, "are you awake? Do not be alarmed; it is I L'Estang." Hearing me move, he closed the door softly, and came across to the bed.
Numerous persons were in the streets, and as he passed by, bowing and smiling graciously, they greeted him with cheers. "Anjou has some purpose in doing that," remarked Felix; but I made no answer, being occupied in watching L'Estang, who rode in the very rear of the cavalcade.
The delay caused us to be a trifle late in keeping our appointment, and when we reached the place of meeting no one was to be seen. For half an hour we walked softly to and fro, keeping in the shadow of the wall, watching keenly, and listening for the sound of a footstep. It was strange that L'Estang should not be there, and I had a vague, uneasy feeling that it was impossible to banish.
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