On the other was an eagle with outstretched wings.
Pavannes let my hand drop and leaned against the wall in sudden despair.

"It is the Duke of Guise's," he muttered.

"It is the eagle of Lorraine." "Ha!" said I softly, seeing light.

The Duke was the idol then, as later, of the Parisian populace, and I understood now why the citizen soldiers had shown me such respect.

They had taken me for the Duke's envoy and confidant.
But I saw no farther.