"For many objects," answered the youth; "but one sufficient to myself, is that I am near those that I wish to be near; and can watch their actions--perhaps see into their thoughts. If I could but make myself sure that St. Real really loves the girl! that were worth all the trouble." "But the risk! the risk!" exclaimed the dwarf. "The risk is nothing, if my people are faithful to me," answered the youth sharply; "and woe be to them if they are not! Why came you not as I commanded, but left me to wait and wander in the neighbourhood of Beaumont, and nearly be taken by a party of reitters, in the pay of Mayenne?" "I could not come," answered the dwarf; "for I was sent to seek a chirurgeon from Tours for the old man, who lies at the point of death. I made what haste I could; but missed you, and could not overtake you till you had nearly reached the chateau." "And is the old Marquis, then, so near the end of a long good life?" asked the youth. "There are some men whose deeds are so full of immortality, that we can scarce fancy even their bodies shall become food for worms. But so it must be with the best as well as with the worst of us." "Even so!" answered the dwarf; "but as to this old man, I have not seen him with my own eyes for this many a day; but the report runs in the castle that he cannot long survive." "His death would come most inopportunely for all my plans," replied the youth; "it would place me in strange circumstances: and yet I would dare them, for I have passed through still stranger without fear. I feel my own heart strong--ay, even in its weakness; and I will not fear. Nevertheless, see you obey my orders better. You should have sent some other on your errand, and not have left me to the mercy of a troop of reitters." "Crying your mercy," said the dwarf, with a significant grin, "I should have thought that your late companion might have proved as dangerous." "Dare you be insolent to me, sir?" cried the youth, fixing his full dark eye sternly on the dwarf. "But, no; I know you dare not, and you know me too well to dare. But you are wrong. Whatever may be the faults of Harry of Navarre--all reprobate heretic as he is--nevertheless he is free from every ungenerous feeling; and although I might think I saw a glance of recognition in his eyes, yet I harbour not a fear that he will betray me or make any ill use of his knowledge, even if he have remembered me." "Are you aware, however," asked the dwarf, lowering his voice and dropping his eyes--"are you aware that the Count d'Aubin is here?" "No, no!" cried the youth, starting. "No, no! Where--where do you mean? I know that he is in Maine, but surely not here." "In this very house," answered the dwarf--"in the great hall, not a hundred yards from the spot where we now stand."