fable seems to you best to reach the third house to the left on
entering Orleans; it belongs to a certain Tourillon, glove-maker.
Strike three blows on the door, and call out: 'On service from
Messieurs de Guise!' The man will appear to be a rabid Guisist; no one
knows but our four selves that he is one of us. He will give you a
faithful boatman,--another Guisist of his own cut. Go down at once to
the wharf, and embark in a boat painted green and edged with white.
You will doubtless land at Beaugency to-morrow about mid-day. There I
will arrange to find you a boat which will take you to Blois without
running any risk. Our enemies the Guises do not watch the rivers, only
the landings. Thus you will be able to see the queen-mother to-morrow
or the day after."

"Your words are written there," said Christophe, touching his
forehead.

Chaudieu embraced his child with singular religious effusion; he was
proud of him.

"God keep thee!" he said, pointing to the ruddy light of the sinking
sun, which was touching the old roofs covered with shingles and
sending its gleams slantwise through the forest of piles among which
the water was rippling.

"You belong to the race of the Jacques Bonhomme," said La Renaudie,
pressing Christophe's hand.

"We shall meet again, /monsieur/," said the prince, with a gesture of
infinite grace, in which there was something that seemed almost
friendship.