"Not I," answered the boy, seriously, and with a sigh; "not I, my lord!--I have a vow against it. Faith, I think that heretic Du Plessis Mornay has converted even me; and I hold, that for hundreds of honest men to shed each other's blood, for the sake of making their favourite sit in a great ivory chair, wear a gilt cap with a tassel, and call himself king, is not only a folly, but a madness, and not only a madness, but a crime. Be not offended, my lord," he added, seeing a slight cloud come over St. Real's brow, as he listened to doctrines very different from those which his own bold and chivalrous heart entertained; "be not offended, nor doubt me either; for you may well rest sure that, should danger threaten you, or misfortune overtake you, when I am your follower, this heart--though not so bold as a falcon's--would find courage for the time; this hand--though not so strong as a giant's--should do its best to defend or aid you." "I believe you in that, at least, my good Leonard," replied St. Real; "yet, nevertheless, I have always held that life is valueless without honour, and that the drops of our heart's best blood can never be weighed against the service of our country, our king, or our friend. However, you are not my sworn soldier, so I shall not try you; and, to speak of matters whereon we shall better agree, tell me--for, amongst all your wanderings, you must have heard--how go men's opinions upon the events that are taking place here?" "Opinions!" cried the youth. "They go, my lord, as the waves of the sea. Looked at from a distance, and at first sight, they seem innumerable, and all distinct one from the other; but when one examines a little more closely, they are found to be nothing but one great flow of the same things, following the first that comes forward and dashes upon the shore. I know not well what the word _opinion_ used to mean in the days of old, but now, I know it means the portrait of every man's selfishness, painted as he likes it to appear. One man has a strong desire to be governor of Dijon, and he represents it under the form of a sincere admiration of the Catholic faith; another wishes to be made marechal of France, and he displays his wish under a full approbation of the murder of the Guises." "It is wonderful," said St. Real, with a smile, "how soon, in the camp and in the court, the wisdom of the brow of sixty years finds its way down to the curly head of sixteen! Do you know, Leonard, I have just heard this morning from Monsieur de Sancy the same fine sarcastic character of the good folks around me that you have given me now?"