SOME cold viands, flanked by a bottle of good wine, were soon set before him by the tavernkeeper, who talked about the siege, and seemed full of uneasiness lest the city should be taken.

“I am told that Bourbon means to allow three days' pillage to his soldiers if he takes the city,” he remarked; “and as to the poor women, not even the holy sisters will be respected.”

“You alarm yourself without reason, my good host,” said Pomperant. “The city will not be sacked, and no outrages will be committed.”

“How know you that?” demanded the tavern-keeper, staring at him in surprise.

“Because such severities would be wholly inconsistent with Bourbon's previous conduct,” returned Pomperant. “Ever since he has been in Provence he has checked all licence on the part of the soldiery. Only those who resist will be slaughtered.”

“Then I shan't be one of them. I wish this city had surrendered like Aix. Folks may talk as they please about patriotism and loyalty, and so forth, but I don't like fighting. Ever since the siege began I haven't been able to sleep in my bed. So you don't believe Bourbon to be the bloodthirsty monster he is represented, eh?”

“On the contrary, I am persuaded he would offer very advantageous terms to the garrison if they would surrender,” said Pomperant.

“Why don't they surrender?” groaned the host. “Don't betray me, sir,” he hastened to add. “Renzo da Ceri would hang me if he heard I had expressed such an unpatriotic sentiment.”

“Fear nothing, my good fellow,” said Pomperant, laughing. “I am quite as unpatriotic as yourself, for I concur with you in opinion. I belong to Andrew Doria's fleet, and only landed last night, so I don't know much about the state of the city. Answer me frankly. How long do you think it can hold out?”

“Perhaps a month—perhaps longer. They say it can hold out till the king comes to relieve it.”

“But if the king shouldn't come—what then?” remarked Pomperant.

“Nay, then we must yield. But we shall have some dreadful fighting. When women turn soldiers, it looks as if mischief were meant.”

“Women turn soldiers! What mean you, my good host?” inquired Pomperant.

“I mean what I say,” replied the tavern-keeper. “Some of the noblest dames of Marseilles have formed themselves into a military corps, and have determined, if called upon, to fight the foe. The lady who commands this company of Amazons is young and beautiful. Mademoiselle Marphise—for so is she named—is the daughter of M. de Vaudreuil, one of our richest merchants. The second in command is likewise young and beautiful, and quite as high-spirited as Marphise. Her name is Marcelline d'Herment.”

“Marcelline d'Herment! Impossible!” cried Pomperant. “Why, if I am not misinformed, her brother, the Seigneur d'Herment, assisted the Constable de Bourbon in his flight.”

“Very true,” replied the host. “But Marphise has great influence over her, and has caused her to change her opinions. Whatever she may have been before, Mademoiselle Marcelline is now violently opposed to the Duke de Bourbon. Sire is staying with M. de Vaudreuil, and she and Marphise are inseparable. Their tastes are too masculine for me. They are marching about all day long. If you go to the Esplanade de la Tourette, or the Place de Linehe, you cannot fail to see them exercising their corps. Some folks think it a very pretty sight.”

“I should like to see them,” said Pomperant. “I will go at once to the Esplanade de la Tourette.”

“You are more likely to find them in the Place de Linehe at this hour,” said the host. “Pursue this street, and you will come to it.”

Pomperant then paid his reckoning, and quitting the inn with Hugues, went in the direction indicated by the tavern-keeper.

The Place de Linehe, a large square, in which there was an agreeable promenade shaded by plane-trees, was now almost wholly deserted, most of the inhabitants having gone to points whence they could witness the progress of the siege, and only a few old people and children were to be seen. Pomperant was about to depart, when the sound of military music, proceeding from a street on the opposite side, arrested him, and immediately afterwards the corps of Amazons marched into the square.

At the head of this company rode a damsel who might have been taken as a representative of Hippolita, or Thalestris, or any other Amazonian queen. Of unusually large stature, she was still admirably proportioned, and her features were rigorously classical in outline. She was armed in a glittering corslet, and her casque was surmounted with white and red plumes. In her hand she carried a javelin, and a small shield hung at her saddle-bow.

Though it could not be denied that Matphise was handsome, her expression and bearing were too masculine to be altogether pleasing. The rest of the corps, which numbered about three hundred, were on foot, and as the majority of them were young, and possessed of considerable personal attractions, they formed a very striking appearance. They were all arrayed in burnished breastplates, and had plumed helmets on their heads, and javelins in their hands. Some of these damsels, as their cast of countenance proclaimed, were of Catalonian origin. They marched six abreast, with light quick footsteps, and in good order, towards the centre of the square, where they formed in line. The second in command was Marcelline. Her accoutrements were precisely like those of the rest of the corps, but she was armed with a drawn sword instead of a javelin.

Nearly an hour was spent by the troop in the practice of various military exercises, all of which were very cleverly performed, and during the whole of that time Pomperant and Hugues remained standing by, screened from observation by the trees.

The practice being ended, the troop formed in order of march, and began to move off the ground, taking a direction which brought them close to the spot where Pomperant was stationed with Hugues. He might have easily retired, but instead of doing so he made a sign to attract Marcelline's attention, and on beholding him she uttered a cry of surprise. The exclamation reached the ears of Marphise, who was riding in front of her, and, looking round, she was struck with the other's agitation, and inquired the cause. Marcelline made no reply; but as she looked very faint, the Amazonian leader immediately ordered a halt.

“What ails you?” she said to Marcelline.

“It is nothing—it will pass,” replied the other. “Leave me here. I will follow anon.”

“The sight of that man troubles you,” said Marphisc, noticing the direction of her friend's gaze. “Who is he? I must know.”

Instead of making any reply to the question, Marcelline sprang forward, and called out to Pomperant, “Away, or you are lost!”

But before he could move a step, even if he intended to depart, Marphise was by his side.

“You are a stranger in Marseilles!” she cried. “I arrest you as a spy.”

“No, let him go; he is no spy,” interposed Marcelline. “Imprudent that you are to come here,” she added, in an under tone, to her lover.

“It is as I suspected!” cried Marphise. “I am certain he is from the enemy's camp. This man is also with him,” she added, pointing to Hugues.

“If I tell you who he is, Marphise, will you allow him to depart?” whispered Marcelline.

“I know not that,” rejoined the other. “But speak!”

“It is the Seigneur Pomperant,” replied Marcelline.

“What! the friend of the traitor Bourbon!” exclaimed the Amazon. “Do you imagine I will let him go? Never! I will rather hang him. Let thirty of the corps step forward and take charge of these men,” she shouted.

The order was obeyed with surprising celerity, and Pomperant and Hugues were environed by a double row of spears.

“Take the prisoners before Renzo da Ceri,” said the Amazon. “He will dispose of them.”

“Marphise!” cried Marcelline, “if you have any love for me do not act thus. You need have no fear of the Seigneur Pomperant. I will answer for him with my life.”

The Amazon reflected for a moment.

“Is he content to remain a prisoner on parole?” she demanded.

“Most assuredly,” replied Marcelline.

“Let him answer for himself,” cried the Amazon. “Will you pledge your word that you will not attempt to quit Marseilles without permission?” she added to Pomperant.

“Do not hesitate,” whispered Marcelline. “If you are taken before Renzo or Chabot de Brion, you are lost.”

“Now, your answer?” cried Marphise.

“I accept the conditions,” he replied. “I will not attempt to escape, and I will be answerable for my attendant.”

“Enough,” replied Marphise. “You are at liberty. But be careful, or you may fall into the hands of those who will not deal with you as leniently as I have done.” Ordering the party around her to fall into rank, the Amazon put her steed in motion, and the troop marched out of the Place de Linche.