A smile of satisfaction passed across Malemort's pale face. Hope caused his dull eyes to glisten; and he hastened to join his comrades with a much quicker step than when he entered the room. "Are these all whom you have to present?" Gabriel asked his squire. "Yes, Monseigneur; I have no others to offer at this moment. I hardly dared to hope that Monseigneur would accept them all." "I should have been hard to suit indeed, had I not," said Gabriel; "your judgment is good and sure, Martin. Accept my congratulations upon your excellent selections." "Well," said Martin-Guerre, modestly, "I do like to think that Malemort, Pilletrousse, the two Scharfensteins, Lactance, Yvonnet, and Ambrosio are not just the sort of fellows to be looked upon with contempt." "I should think not!" said Gabriel. "What rough diamonds they are!" "If Monseigneur," Martin continued, "should be willing to add to their number Landry, Chesnel, Aubriot, Contamine, and Balu, veterans of the war in Lorraine, I rather think that with Monseigneur at our head, and four or five of our people from here to wait upon us, we should have a pretty fine party to show to our friends, and better still, to our enemies." "Yes, to be sure," said Gabriel; "arms and heads of iron! You must arm and equip these fine fellows with the least possible delay, Martin. But you have done enough for to-day. You have made good use of your time, my friend, and I thank you for it. My day, although it has been an active and painful one, is not yet ended." "Where is Monseigneur going this evening?" asked Martin-Guerre. "To the Louvre, to wait upon Monsieur de Guise, who expects me at eight o'clock," said Gabriel, rising. "But thanks to your prompt zeal, Martin, I hope that some of the difficulties which might have arisen in my interview with the duke are removed beforehand." "Oh, I am very happy to know it, Monseigneur!" "And so am I, Martin. You can't dream how necessary it is that I should succeed! Oh, I will succeed!" The noble youth repeated in his heart as he walked to the door to take his way to the Louvre,-- "Yes, I will save you, dear father; my own Diane, I will save you!" CHAPTER XII THE CLEVERNESS OF STUPIDITY Let us in imagination pass over sixty leagues of space and two weeks of time, and return to Calais toward the close of November, 1557. Twenty-five days had not elapsed since Vicomte d'Exmès's departure when a messenger from him presented himself at the gates of the English city. This man asked to be taken to the governor, Lord Wentworth, that he might place in his hands the ransom of his former prisoner.