"Well, I will run the risk," said Gabriel, losing his patience; "and since you have, at all events up to now, whether you have been at church or in the Rue Froid-Manteau, skilfully and faithfully acquitted yourself of the trust I have imposed upon you, you will do the same to-day; and let me tell you, if you need such a stimulus to your zeal, that in this letter you will bring me my happiness or my despair." "Oh, Monseigneur, my devotion to you doesn't need to be worked upon, I assure you; and if it wasn't for these devilish substitutions--" "What! are you going to begin again?" Gabriel interrupted. "I must go; and do you start too in about an hour, and don't forget a single point of my instructions. One word more: you know that for several days past I have been anxiously expecting my nurse Aloyse out of Normandy; and you understand that if she comes while I am away, you must give her the room adjoining mine, and make her as welcome as if she were in her own house. You will remember?" "Yes, Monseigneur." "Come, then, Martin, we must be prompt to act, and discreet, and, above all, not lose our presence of mind." Martin replied only with a repressed sigh; and Gabriel left his house in the Rue des Jardins. He came back two hours later, as he had said, absorbed and preoccupied. As he entered, he saw only Martin, rushed up to him, seized the letter which he had expected with so much impatience, made a gesture of dismissal, and read:-- "Let us thank God, Gabriel," said this letter; "the king has yielded, and our happiness is assured. You must have learned of the arrival of the herald from England, bearing a declaration of war in the name of Queen Mary, and of the great preparations in Flanders. These events, threatening for France, perhaps, are favorable to our love, Gabriel, since they add to the influence of the young Duc de Guise, and tend to lower that of old Montmorency. The king, however, still hesitated; but I implored him, Gabriel: I said that I had found you again, and that you were noble and valiant; and I told him your name--so much the worse! The king, without promising anything, said that he would reflect; that after all, when the affairs of State became less urgent, it would be cruel in him to compromise my happiness; and that he could make some amends to François de Montmorency with which he would have to be content. He has promised nothing, but he will do everything, Gabriel. Oh, you will learn to love him, as I do, this kind father of mine, who is going to bring to pass all the dreams we have dreamed these last six years! I have so much to say to you, and these written words are so cold! Listen, my friend, come to-night at six o'clock during the council. Jacinthe will bring you to me, and we will have a good long hour to talk of the bright future which is opening before us. But I can foresee that this Flanders campaign will claim you, and that you must make it, alas! to serve the