"Yes, yes, to be sure!" Gabriel replied, having actually heard nothing, but being aroused by this direct appeal from his revery. "Yes, your cousin wishes to return, does he not, to our fair kingdom of France,--to be transferred to some French town, Amiens, for instance? Very well; I will speak to my Lord Wentworth about it, and to Monsieur de Guise as well. The thing may easily be arranged; and my assistance, which you request, shall not fail you. Go on, my friend; I am quite at your service. Certainly I am listening." And again he relapsed into his omnipotent distraction. For the voice he was listening to at that moment was not, in truth, Jean Peuquoy's; no, it was the voice of King Henri in his own heart, giving the order, upon hearing the admiral's account of the siege of St. Quentin, to release the Comte de Montgommery on the spot. Again, it was the voice of his father, proving to him (for he was still gloomy and jealous) that Diane was indeed the daughter of his becrowned rival. Finally, it was the voice of Diane herself, which, after so many bitter trials, was able to say to him, and which he could hear give forth those divine words of sweetest meaning, "Truly I love you!" It is easy to understand that while dreaming such delightful dreams as these, he could hardly listen to the daring and confident schemes of the worthy Jean. The solemn burgher appeared somewhat hurt that Gabriel had vouchsafed so little attention to a scheme which certainly did not lack grandeur and courage, and it was with some chagrin that he rejoined. "If Monseigneur had condescended to lend a somewhat less preoccupied ear to what I was saying, he would have noticed that our ideas, Pierre's and mine, were not so personal and less contemptible than he seems to think them." Gabriel made no response. "He does not hear us, Jean," said Pierre Peuquoy, calling his cousin's attention to the fresh absorption of his guest. "Perhaps he has some plan, some personal passion of his own." "At all events, his cannot be less selfish than ours," retorted Jean, in a tone not free from bitterness. "I should even say that this gentleman was indeed selfish had I not seen him defying danger with a sort of fury, and actually exposing his life too, to save mine; still, he ought to have listened when I was earnestly looking for the glory and welfare of our common country. Without him, however, with all our zealous ardor, we shall be only helpless tools, Pierre. So far we possess the right feeling! We lack brain and power." "Never mind! the sentiment is a good one, for I heard it and understood it, brother," said the armorer. And the two cousins solemnly grasped each other's hands. "Meanwhile, we must give up our idea, or at least postpone trying to carry it out," said Jean; "for what can the arm do without the head, or the people without the nobility?" And then this burgher of the olden time added with a meaning smile,--