‘Yes, sir,’ the young said, with a tembling voice, and Berenger saw that his eyes were red with weeping; ’she bids me tell you that she yields.  She will save you eve while you have and despite her!  There is only one thing—–­’

‘And what is that?’

’You must encumber yourself with the poor Aime.  You must let me serve you instead of her.  Listen, sir, it cannot be otherwise.’  Then with a brisher, more eager voice, he continued:  ’Monsieur knows that the family burial-place is Bellaise?  Well, to-morrow, at ten o’clock, all the household, all the neighbourhood, will come and sprinkle holy water on the bier.  The first requiem will be sung, and then will all repair to the convent.  There will be the funeral mass, the banquet, the dole.  Every creature in the castle —­nay, in all the neighbourhood for twenty miles round—­will be at the convent, for the Abbess has given out that the alms are to be double, and the bread of wheat.  Not a soul will remain here, save the two gendarmes on guard at that door, and the poor Aime, whom no one will miss, even if any person could be distinguished in their black cloaks.  Madame la Comtesse has given him this key, which opens a door on the upper floor of the keep, unknown to the guards, who, for that matter, shall have a good tankard of spiced wine to console and occupy them.  Then is the way clear to the castle court, which is not over looked by their window, the horses are in the stables, and we are off,—­that is if M. le Baron will save a poor youth from the wrath of M. de Nid-de-Merle.’

‘You are and honest fellow!’ cried Philip, shaking him vehemently by the hand.  ’You shall go with us to England, and we will make a brave man of you.’

‘We shall owe you our lives,’ said Berenger, warmly, ’and be ever bound to you.  Tell your lady that THIS is magnanimity; that now I truly thank her as our preserver, and shall bless her all the days of the life she gives us.  But my servants?’

‘Guibert is a traitor,’ said Aime; ’he has been so ever since you were at Paris.  Breathe no word to him; but he, as a Catholic, shall be invited to the funeral.  Your stout Englishman should by all means be with us.’

‘My Norman also,’ added Berenger,—­’my dear foster-brother, who has languished in the dungeon for three years;’ and when the explanation had been made, Aime assented, though half-unwillingly, to the necessity, and presently quitted them to bear back their answer to his lady.  Philip shook his hand violently again, patted him on the back, so as almost to take away his breath, and bade him never fear, they would be sworn brothers to him for ever; and then threw up his hat into the air, and was so near astonishing the donjon walls with a British hurrah, that Berenger had to put his hand over his mouth and strangle the shout in his very throat.