The person stopped by the sentinels was a young man of about five-and-twenty, of martial bearing and aspect. He was tall, well proportioned, and possessed handsome features, characterised by a proud, fierce expression, and Pomperant's first impression on beholding him was, that he was a Venetian officer charged with a message from the Duke of Urbino; but as he drew near, and the stranger's countenance could be more clearly distinguished, Pomperant uttered an exclamation of surprise and pleasure, for he recognised in him one of the bitterest enemies of Franee, and one of the most devoted friends of the Duke de Bourbon, the Prince of Orange.

Young as he was, Philibert de Chalons, Prince of Orange, was one of the most distinguished captains of the day. He came of an ancient Burgundian house, and inherited all the warlike qualities of his ancestry. Of a remarkably fierce and vindictive temperament, he never forgave an injury. His animosity towards FranÇois I. originated in a slight offered him by that monarch. At the ceremonial of the baptism of the Dauphin, the Prince of Orange was one of the invited guests, and appeared at the Louvre with a retinue befitting his rank, but he was very coldly received by the king, and the apartments designed for him in the palace were given to another. Highly incensed by this treatment, he immediately returned to his castle of Nozerol, and subsequently offered his services to the Emperor, who received him with open arms, and compensated him by other lands for the territories of which he was deprived by the King of France.

Philibert's conduct justified the Emperor's sagacity. The young prince greatly distinguished himself at the siege of Fontarabia.

When Bourbon invaded Provence, Philibert sailed from Barcelona to join him, but being taken prisoner, as may be remembered, by Andrea Doria, he was carried to France, and imprisoned in the castle of Lusignan in Poitou, where he was detained in close captivity until after the battle of Pavia.

Imprisonment did not tame his spirit, but rather envenomed his hatred of FranÇois I. Regardless of all consequences, he perpetually launched into fierce invectives against that monarch, and covered the walls of his prison with satirical remarks upon him.

In compliance with the treaty of Madrid, the Prince of Orange was set free, but as the convention was only executed in part, his confiscated domains were not restored to him.

Without a single follower, and almost without money, Philibert set forth to join Bourbon, and after many adventures and hindrances on his journey, which it is not necessary to recount, reached him at the foot of the Apennines, as described.

“I have come to join your highness,” said the young prince, when brought before Bourbon by Pomperant. “I have nothing to offer you but my sword, but that I devote to your service.”

“By Sainte Barbe! you are as welcome, prince, as if you had a thousand lances at your back,” rejoined Bourbon. “You offer me your sword. I accept it with gratitude. At any time, the offer would enchant me—now, it is doubly welcome. Your distinguished name will be of infinite service, and will help to confound my enemies. Before you ask aught from me, noble prince, I will evince my satisfaction by appointing you second in command to myself of the whole army.”

“I have done nothing to merit such consideration at your highness's hands,” rejoined Philibert.

“But you will do much hereafter, prince,” said Bourbon. “I know that in you I have a staunch partisan—a friend on whom I can rely. We have wrongs in common, and are both mortal enemies of the false and perfidious FranÇois de Valois.”

“His very name rouses my choler,” cried Philibert, fiercely. “May all the curses I have daily invoked upon the faithless tyrant during my captivity at Lusignan alight on his devoted head! Had I been in the Emperor's place, I would never have set him free till all the conditions of the treaty had been fulfilled. FranÇois de Valois is not to be trusted. He has broken his word with us all, and his name ought to be covered with infamy. But I beg pardon of your highness for my warmth,” he added, checking himself. “I thank you for the trust you repose in me. You shall find me a firm friend. And I hope the hour may come when we shall both be fully avenged on our common enemy.”

“Be sure the hour will come,” said Bourbon, sternly. “But the work of vengeance must be begun at Rome. Look around, prince. What do you behold?”

“An army of brave men—somewhat savage, perhaps, and not like the well-equipped legions of France, but able to conquer a kingdom.”

“Of this robber-host FranÇois has made me leader,” said Bourbon; “and he has compelled you to join it.”

“No matter. I serve Bourbon,” rejoined Philibert; “and I would rather serve him than any monarch in Europe. I care not of what the army is composed, so that the men can fight.”

“They can fight well, prince, and pillage as well as fight, as you will find, when you know them better,” said Bourbon, laughing.

“If they serve without pay, as I suppose they do, they must plunder,” said Philibert. “Despite their looks and equipments, they seem good soldiers.”

“The Pope will think so if they once get within the walls of Rome,” remarked Bourbon. “They are all impatience to be there, and I do not mean to balk them.”

“Then you do not design to attack Florence?” inquired the Prince of Orange.

“I have no artillery,” replied Bourbon, “and I do not wish to waste time in a siege. Florence will be defended by the army of the League and the Pontifical troops. Rome is more important.”

While they were thus conversing, Von Frundsberg and Zucker came up, and their new leader was presented to them by Bourbon.

Philibert possessed some of the qualities of Bourbon himself, and could put on, when he pleased, the rough frankness of a soldier. His manner pleased Von Frunds-berg, and that hardy veteran was delighted with him when they became better acquainted, and had passed half the night in a carouse.