"Then get ye gone to the court as fast as possible, Huon," exclaimed D'Aubin, relapsing into the usual levity of tone which was fashionable at that time, even in speaking of the most serious subjects; "get thee gone to the court, and see all the vices and horrors it contains; for, till you have done so, I shall not know what you consider supportable or not. Yet, stay, Huon," he added, more generous feelings for a moment resuming their sway, "I doubt you not, my cousin--I know your nature, St. Real, too well to doubt you; so let not your determination be influenced by me. I would trust you as fully with Eugenie in Paris, as if thousands of miles, or hostile armies, or wide-flowing seas, separated you from her." "You might!" replied St. Real; "but, in the present case, my purpose is fixed. With the private vices of Henry III. or the vices of his court either, I have nothing to do, at least, as far as regards my public actions; and, if I see no reason to believe that my joining the League is absolutely necessary for the salvation of my country, my allegiance to my King is my first public duty, after the service of my native land. Yet, hear me a word more, in regard to Eugenie----" "Hark, what a noise!" exclaimed D'Aubin, turning towards a window that looked into the street. "Those dogs of Huguenots are always quarrelling with us cats of Catholics, and the distance between Meudon and St. Cloud cannot keep us asunder. Look, Huon, look! they will come to blows presently! See that fellow in the white scarf, how he is laying down the law and the Gospel with the bony finger of his right on the broad hard palm of his left. If he were the renegade, voluptuous, fiery Luther himself, or the keen, fierce, bloodthirsty Calvin, he could not argue the matter more eagerly. Now there, I warrant ye, goes the demonstration of the superiority of the _prêche_ over the _messe_--the refutation of transubstantiation, and an utter condemnation of poor purgatory!"