‘At nine o’clock,’ M. de Rosny replied, holding the door open. ‘You will excuse me if I do not descend, Marquis?’ ‘Yes, go back, my friend,’ the stranger answered. And, lighted by Maignan, whose face on such occasions could assume the most stolid air in the world, he disappeared down the stairs, and I heard him go out. M. de Rosny turned to me, his eyes sparkling with joy, his face and mien full of animation. ‘The King of Navarre is better,’ he said. ‘He is said to be out of danger. What do you think of that, my friend?’ ‘That is the best news I have heard for many a day,’ I answered. And I hastened to add, that France and the Religion had reason to thank God for His mercy. ‘Amen to that,’ my patron replied reverently. ‘But that is not all--that is not all.’ And he began to walk up and down the room humming the 118th Psalm a little above his breath-- La voici l’heureuse journee Que Dieu a faite a plein desir; Par nous soit joie demenee, Et prenons en elle plaisir. He continued, indeed, to walk up and down the floor so long, and with so joyful a countenance and demeanour, that I ventured, at last to remind him of my presence, which he had clearly forgotten. ‘Ha! to be sure,’ he said, stopping short and looking at me with the utmost good-humour. ‘What time is it? Seven. Then until nine o’clock, my friend, I crave your indulgence. En fin, until that time I must keep counsel. Come, I am hungry still. Let us sit down, and this time I hope we may not be interrupted. Simon, set us on a fresh bottle. Ha! ha! VIVENT LE ROI ET LE ROI DE NAVARRE!’ And again he fell to humming the same psalm-- O Dieu eternel, je te prie, Je te prie, ton roi maintiens: O Dieu, je te prie et reprie, Sauve ton roi et l’entretiens! doing so with a light in his eyes and a joyous emphasis, which impressed me the more in a man ordinarily so calm and self-contained. I saw that something had occurred to gratify him beyond measure, and, believing his statement that this was not the good news from La Ganache only, I waited with the utmost interest and anxiety for the hour of nine, which had no sooner struck than our former visitor appeared with the same air of mystery and disguise which had attended him before. M. de Rosny, who had risen on hearing his step and had taken up his cloak, paused with it half on and half off, to cry anxiously, ‘All is well, is it not?’ ‘Perfectly,’ the stranger replied, with a nod. ‘And my friend?’ Yes, on condition that you answer for his discretion and fidelity.’ And the stranger glanced involuntarily at me who stood uncertain whether to hold my ground or retire. ‘Good,’ M. de Rosny cried. Then he turned to me with a mingled air of dignity and kindness, and continued: ‘This is the gentleman. M. de Marsac, I am honoured with permission to present you to the Marquis de Rambouillet, whose interest and protection I beg you to deserve, for he is a true Frenchman and a patriot whom I respect.’