'He is a traitor,' burst out Annette. 'Monsieur le chevalier, I would send him packing tonight.' 'I can hardly do that,' I said, 'and, besides, agony such as that young man is passing through does not mark a traitor.' 'As Monsieur pleases,' she answered, and then rapidly in my ear, 'Were it not for someone else's sake I would let you go your own way. Beware of him, I say.' '_Corbleu!_ dame Annette! why not speak plainly? We are all friends here.' But she only laughed mirthlessly, and led the way towards the door. I accompanied Palin to the end of the Malaquais, speaking of many things on the way, and finally left him, as he insisted on my coming no further. So much had happened during the day, however, that I determined to cool my brain with a walk, and my intention was to cross the river and return to my lodging by the Pont aux Meunniers. I hailed a boat, therefore, and was soon on the other side of the Seine, and, flinging my cloak over my arm, set off at a round pace, Annette's warning about Ravaillac buzzing in my head with the insistence of a fly. As I passed the Louvre I saw that the windows were bright with lights, and heard the strains of music from within. They were as merry within as I was sad without, and I did not linger there long. Keeping to the right of St. Germain l'Auxerrois, I passed by the Magasins de Louvre, and then, slackening my pace, strolled idly down the Rue de St. Antoine. Down this great street it seemed as if the coming of the King had awakened the good citizens to life again, for there were lights at nearly all the windows, though the street itself was in darkness, except at the spots where a lantern or two swung on ropes stretched across the road, and lit up a few yards dimly around them. A few steps further brought me almost opposite a large house, over the entrance to which was a transparent signboard with a row of lamps behind it, and I saw I had stumbled across More's, the eating and gaming house kept by the most celebrated _traiteur_ in Paris. I had a mind to step in, more out of curiosity than anything else, when, just as I halted in hesitation before the door, two or three masked cavaliers came out singing and laughing, and in the foremost of them I had no difficulty in recognising the old reprobate, d'Ayen. Much as I would have avoided a quarrel, it could not be helped, for I had the door, and it was certainly my right to enter. They, however, ranged themselves arm-in-arm before me, and, being in wine, began to laugh and jeer at my sombre attire. 'Does Monsieur le Huguenot think there is a _preche_ here?' said d'Ayen, bowing to me in mockery as he lifted his plumed hat. I determined to show in my answer that I knew them. 'Let me pass. Monsieur d'Ayen,' I said coldly. 'We have too much between us to quarrel here.' He knew me well enough, but pretended surprise.