the wiser of his foes held our prince in particular dread when he
seemed most deeply sunk in pleasure--to the outward eye St. Jean
d'Angely appeared to be given over to enjoyment from one end to
the other.

The stir and bustle of the Court reached me even in my garret,
and contributed to make that Christmas, which fell on a Sunday, a
trial almost beyond sufferance. All day long the rattle of
hoofs on the pavement, and the laughter of riders bent on
diversion, came up to me, making the hard stool seem harder, the
bare walls more bare, and increasing a hundredfold the solitary
gloom in which I sat. For as sunshine deepens the shadows which
fall athwart it, and no silence is like that which follows the
explosion of a mine, so sadness and poverty are never more
intolerable than when hope and wealth rub elbows with them.

True, the great sermon which M. d'Amours preached in the market-
house on the morning of Christmas-day cheered me, as it cheered
all the more sober spirits. I was present myself, sitting in an
obscure corner of the building, and heard the famous prediction,
which was so soon to be fulfilled. 'Sire,' said the preacher,
turning to the King of Navarre, and referring, with the boldness
that ever characterised that great man and noble Christian, to
the attempt, then being made to exclude the prince from the
succession--'Sire, what God at your birth gave you man cannot
take away. A little while, a little patience, and you shall
cause us to preach beyond the Loire! With you for our Joshua we
shall cross the Jordan, and in the Promised Land the Church shall
be set up.'