however, our leaders, being in possession of cooler heads and clearer
brains, decided otherwise, and when winter came, making a campaign
impossible, we were still inside the walls.

During the autumn we were joined by a troop of English gentlemen, about
a hundred strong, under the leadership of one named Henry Champernoun.
They were mostly young, of good birth and family, very gallant fellows,
and as eager to fight as the most headstrong of us.

With one of them--Roger Braund, a lad about the same age as Felix--we
soon became very friendly. He was fair and handsome, with sparkling blue
eyes and shapely features. He was tall and well made, a skilful
horseman, and an astonishing master of fence. Few of us could equal him
with the sword, but he was modest and unassuming, and had a genial
manner, very captivating.

He was a frequent visitor at my aunt's house, where he speedily became
as great a favourite as Felix. Indeed, I sometimes thought that Jeanne
regarded him with even more favour. She spent much time in his company,
listening to his accounts of the English Court and of his own home,
which was situated in a district called Devonshire. I think Felix was
not too well pleased with this intimacy, but whatever sorrow it caused
him he kept locked up in his own breast.

One evening, they started together to the house, expecting me to follow
as soon as I was relieved of my duty. It was, I remember, about a half
after six, when I left the hotel. The streets as usual were thronged
with citizens and soldiers, who in some places almost blocked the road.
In front of me was a horseman, to all appearance but newly arrived. He
was proceeding at a foot pace, and evidently looking for suitable