"It does seem incredible that any man in his senses should pay for such a garment as that. But you had nothing to pay for that dagger and sheath, my prudent brother; for I recognize it as the one our ancestor Count Paul wore at Cressy."
"Not of quite so old a fashion as that, brother, although not new," replied François tranquilly. "It is the dagger with which about a century ago Reginald de Montarnaud, who was a Catholic, slew his elder brother who was a Huguenot, and had, moreover, stolen the promised bride of the younger."
"The younger brothers of our house have ever been envious of their elders; but in these days it is the elder who is the soldier, while the younger weaves daisy-chains in the gardens of Montarnaud," retorted Gaston with a sneer. "But, unhappily, for the future, my dear boy, you must pursue your sports alone. Your playmate goes to Paris with me to-morrow."
"With you, indeed!"
"With my father and me, since you are so precise, Monsieur Huguenot; and, by the way, you had better look up a suit of our great-grandfather's court clothes, in which to dance at my wedding a week or so hence."
"And whom do you marry, if I may inquire?" demanded François, turning pale as death, and clinching his hand upon the pommel of his dagger.
"What, has not my little Valerie told you? oh the pretty coquetries of these timid darlings!" exclaimed Gaston in a coxcombical tone; but François was too much affected by the matter to attend much to the
