"I am English born, madam, and my name is Philip Fletcher. My mother was French, being the daughter of the Count de Moulins; and she sent me over to reside with her sister, the Countess of Laville, in order that I might fight for the cause of the religion, by the side of my cousin Francois. I rode with him through the last campaign, in the train of Francois de la Noue and, having had the good fortune to attract the notice of the Prince of Conde and the Admiral, they selected me to bear this message to you; thinking that, being but a lad, I should better escape suspicion and question than a French gentleman would do; especially as he would risk being recognized, while my face would be altogether unknown. "Now, if your majesty will permit me, I will open the lining of my shoe. You will find, however, that the despatch contains but a few words. At first the Admiral thought only to give me a message; but he afterwards wrote what he had said, in order that, should any evil befall me by the way, one of the three men who accompanied me should take my shoe and bring it to your majesty." By this time he had slit open the lining of his shoe with his knife, and handed the little piece of paper to the queen. It contained only the words: "All goes well. Am hoping to see you. You will find me in or near Cognac." There was no signature. "You have done good service to the cause, Monsieur Fletcher," the queen said. "How did you manage to pass south, for I hear that every bridge and ford is guarded by the Catholics?" Philip gave a brief account of his journey. "You have acted prudently and well, young sir; and fully justified the Admiral's confidence in your prudence. What are your orders now?" "They are simply to accompany your majesty on your way north, if it be your pleasure to permit me to ride in your train." "I shall do that right willingly, sir; and it will be a pleasure for my son to hear, from your lips, a full account of your journey hither, and something of your native land, in which it may be that he will be, some day, compelled to take refuge." "You shall ride by my side, Monsieur Philip," the young prince said. "You look as if you could laugh and joke. These Huguenot lords are brave and faithful, but they have ever serious faces." "Hush, Henri! It is not fitting to speak so. They are brave and good men." "They may be that, mother, but they weary me dreadfully; and I am sure it would be much more cheerful having this English gentleman as my companion."