They found themselves in a room of considerable size, but gloomy, and quite bare. Two narrow windows--one looking upon Rue St. Jacques, and the other upon a back alley--admitted only a very uncertain light. There was no furniture save four stools and an oak table with twisted legs. At the admiral's entrance, two men, who seemed to be expecting him, rose to greet him; a third remained discreetly apart, standing at the front window, and merely bowed low to Coligny from that distance. "Theodore," said the admiral to the two men who had welcomed him, "and you, Captain, I have brought with me to present to you a friend, who is at all events to be your friend--our friend--hereafter, if he cannot yet be so called." The two strangers bowed silently to Vicomte d'Exmès. Then the younger, he who was called Theodore, began to talk with Coligny in a low tone, and with much animation. Gabriel walked away a few steps to leave them more at liberty, and was thus able to scrutinize at his leisure the men to whom the admiral had presented him, but whose names even he did not know. The captain had the strongly marked features and determined bearing of a man of resolution and action. He was tall and dark and sinewy. One needed not to be a keen observer to read audacity in his expression; eager, burning zeal, in the fire of his eyes; and an energetic, forceful will, in his sternly compressed lips. The companion of this haughty adventurer was rather more like a courtier; he was a graceful cavalier with a well-formed and jolly face, a keen glance, and refined and easy bearing. His dress, which was strictly in accord with the latest fashion, was in strong contrast with the garb of the captain, which was simple almost to the point of austerity. As for the third individual, who had remained standing at some distance from the others, his striking countenance could but attract notice despite his attitude of reserve; his broad forehead and the piercing keenness of his eye were enough to indicate to the least observant the man of thought, and, let us say at once, the man of genius. Coligny, having exchanged a few words with his friend, drew near Gabriel. "I beg your pardon," said he; "but I am not the only master here, and I had to consult my associates before disclosing to you where and in whose company you are." "Am I to know now!" asked Gabriel. "If you wish, my friend." "Where am I, pray?" "In the poor chamber where the son of the cooper of Noyon, Jean Calvin, held the first secret meetings of those of the Reformed religion, and whence he almost had to march to the stake. But to-day he is at Geneva, triumphant and almost omnipotent; the crowned heads of the world have to reckon with him; and the memory of him alone is enough to make the damp walls of this wretched hole more glorious than the golden arabesques of the Louvre."