itself the only English fortress that had ever resisted the avenger of
France, the constable Bertrand du Guesclin. But, in spite of its pride,
it proved to be commanded by a yet higher point, sufficiently near to
throw round shot into the Castle in the more advanced days to which our
tale relates. For this reason, and also because of the smallness of the
harbour at its feet, Mont Orgueil had given way to the growing
importance of S. Helier, protected by its virgin Castle. Hence the
place, though not quite in ruins, had sunk to a minor and subordinate
character; the Hall, in which the States had once assembled, was
neglected and dirty; the chambers formerly appropriated to the Governor
and his family were used as cells, or not used at all; the garden was
unweeded; and Mont Orgueil in general had sunk to be a prison and a
watch-tower. None the less proudly did it rise--as it does still--with a
protecting air above its little town and port, and look defiance upon
the opposite shores of Normandy.

In a narrow guard-room on the South side of this castle, a few days
later than the visit of La Cloche to the King, the Lieutenant-Governor
was sitting at a heavy oaken table, with his steel cap before him and
his basket-hilted sword hung by the belt from the back of his carven
chair. A writer sate at the left-hand side of the same table, and
between them lay militia muster-rolls and other papers. At the further
end of the room, between two halberdiers in scarlet doublets, stood a
tall Jerseyman in squalid garments, his legs in fetters, his wrists in
manacles. Keen little grey eyes peered through the neglected black hair
that fell over his narrow brow; and his iron-grey beard showed signs of
long neglect.

"Now, Pierre Benoist," said Sir George, "for the last time I give you
warning. If you do not speak, freely and to the purpose, it will be the