The House of the Wolf | Page 2

her kerchief from her face, and turned so pale that I was
sorry I had spoken--apart from the kick Croisette gave me. "Is M. de
Bezers at his house?" she asked anxiously.
"Yes" Croisette answered. "He came in last night from St. Antonin,
with very small attendance."
"The news seemed to set her fears at rest instead of augmenting them as
I should have expected. I suppose they were rather for Louis de
Pavannes, than for herself. Not unnaturally, too, for even the Wolf
could scarcely have found it in his heart to hurt our cousin. Her slight
willowy figure, her pale oval face and gentle brown eyes, her pleasant
voice, her kindness, seemed to us boys and in those days, to sum up all
that was womanly. We could not remember, not even Croisette the
youngest of us--who was seventeen, a year junior to Marie and
myself--we were twins--the time when we had not been in love with
her.
But let me explain how we four, whose united ages scarce exceeded
seventy years, came to be lounging on the terrace in the holiday
stillness of that afternoon. It was the summer of 1572. The great peace,
it will be remembered, between the Catholics and the Huguenots had
not long been declared; the peace which in a day or two was to be
solemnized, and, as most Frenchmen hoped, to be cemented by the
marriage of Henry of Navarre with Margaret of Valois, the King's sister.
The Vicomte de Caylus, Catherine's father and our guardian, was one
of the governors appointed to see the peace enforced; the respect in

which he was held by both parties--he was a Catholic, but no bigot,
God rest his soul!-- recommending him for this employment. He had
therefore gone a week or two before to Bayonne, his province. Most of
our neighbours in Quercy were likewise from home, having gone to
Paris to be witnesses on one side or the other of the royal wedding. And
consequently we young people, not greatly checked by the presence of
good-natured, sleepy Madame Claude, Catherine's duenna, were
disposed to make the most of our liberty; and to celebrate the peace in
our own fashion.
We were country-folk. Not one of us had been to Pau, much less to
Paris. The Vicomte held stricter views than were common then, upon
young people's education; and though we had learned to ride and shoot,
to use our swords and toss a hawk, and to read and write, we knew little
more than Catherine herself of the world; little more of the pleasures
and sins of court life, and not one- tenth as much as she did of its
graces. Still she had taught us to dance and make a bow. Her presence
had softened our manners; and of late we had gained something from
the frank companionship of Louis de Pavannes, a Huguenot whom the
Vicomte had taken prisoner at Moncontour and held to ransom. We
were not, I think, mere clownish yokels.
But we were shy. We disliked and shunned strangers. And when old
Gil appeared suddenly, while we were still chewing the melancholy cud
of Kit's announcement, and cried sepulchrally, "M. le Vidame de
Bezers to pay his respects to Mademoiselle!"--Well, there was
something like a panic, I confess!
We scrambled to our feet, muttering, "The Wolf!" The entrance at
Caylus is by a ramp rising from the gateway to the level of the terrace.
This sunken way is fenced by low walls so that one may not--when
walking on the terrace--fall into it. Gil had spoken before his head had
well risen to view, and this gave us a moment, just a moment. Croisette
made a rush for the doorway into the house; but failed to gain it, and
drew himself up behind a buttress of the tower, his finger on his lip. I
am slow sometimes, and Marie waited for me, so that we had barely
got to our legs--looking, I dare say, awkward and ungainly enough--

before the Vidame's shadow fell darkly on the ground at Catherine's
feet.
"Mademoiselle!" he said, advancing to her through the sunshine, and
bending over her slender hand with a magnificent grace that was born
of his size and manner combined, "I rode in late last night from
Toulouse; and I go to-morrow to Paris. I have but rested and washed
off the stains of travel that I may lay my-- ah!"
He seemed to see us for the first time and negligently broke off in his
compliment; raising himself and saluting us. "Ah," he continued
indolently, "two of the maidens of Caylus, I see. With an odd pair of
hands apiece, unless I am mistaken, Why do you not set them spinning,
Mademoiselle?" and he regarded us with that smile which--with