"No, I will go down and see him in the courtyard. If he comes up here he would be, perhaps, awkward and unnatural, and would not speak so freely as he would in the open air."
The merchant shook his head.
"If you take the vagabond, remember, Monsieur Philip, that it is altogether against my advice. I would never have spoken to you about him, if I had imagined for a moment that you would think of taking him. A fellow who has never kept any employment for two months, how could he be fit for a post of confidence, and be able to mix as your body servant with the households of honourable families?"
"But you said yourself, Maitre Bertram, that he has never had a fair chance. Well, I will see him, anyhow."
He descended into the courtyard, and could not help smiling as his eye fell upon a figure seated on the horse block. He was looking out through the gateway, and did not at first see Philip. The expression of his face was dull and almost melancholy, but as Philip's eye fell on him his attention was attracted by some passing object in the street. His face lit up with amusement. His lips twitched and his eyes twinkled. A moment later and the transient humour passed, and the dull, listless expression again stole over his face.
"Pierre!" Philip said sharply.
The young fellow started to his feet, as if shot upwards by a spring; and as he turned and saw who had addressed him, took off his cap and, bowing, stood twisting it round in his fingers.
"Monsieur Bertram tells me you want to come with me as a servant, Pierre; but when I asked him about you, he does not give you such a character as one would naturally require in a confidential servant. Is there anyone who will speak for you?"
"Not a soul," the young man said doggedly; "and yet, monsieur, I am not a bad fellow. What can a man do, when he has not a friend in the world? He picks up a living as he can, but everybody looks at him with suspicion. There is no friend to take his part, and so people vent their ill humours upon him, till the time comes when he revolts at the injustice and strikes back; and then he has to begin it all over again, somewhere else.
"And yet, sir, I know that I could be faithful and true to anyone who would not treat me like a dog. You spoke kindly to me in the stable, and gave me a crown. No one had ever given me a crown before. But I cared less for that than for the way you spoke. Then I saw you start, and you spoke pleasantly to your men; and I said to myself, 'that is the master I would serve, if he would let me.'
"Try me, sir, and if you do not find me faithful, honest, and true to you, tell your men to string me up to a bough. I do not drink, and have been in so many services that, ragged as you see me, I can yet behave so as not to do discredit to you."
Philip hesitated. There was no mistaking the earnestness with which the youth spoke.
"Are you a Catholic or a Huguenot?" he asked.
"I know nothing of the difference between them," Pierre replied. "How should I? No one has ever troubled about me, one way or the other. When my mother lived I went to Mass with her; since then I have gone nowhere. I have had no Sunday clothes. I know that the bon Dieu has taken care of me, or I should have died of hunger, long ago. The priest I was with used to tell me that the Huguenots were worse than heathen; but if that were so, why should they let themselves be thrown into prison, and even be put to death, rather than stay away from their churches? As for me, I know nothing about it. They say monsieur is a Huguenot, and if he were good enough to take me into his service, of course I should be a Huguenot."
"That is a poor reason, Pierre," Philip said smiling. "Still, you may find better reasons, in time. However, you are not a Catholic, which is the principal thing, at present.
"Well, I will try you, I think. Perhaps, as you say, you have never had a fair chance yet, and I will give you one. I believe what you say, that you will be faithful."
The young fellow's face lit up with pleasure.
"I will be faithful, sir. If I were otherwise, I should deserve to be cut in pieces."
"As for wages," Philip said, "I will pay you what you deserve. We will settle that when we see how we get on together. Now follow me, and I will get some suitable clothes for you."
There was no difficulty about this. Clothes were not made to fit closely in those days, and Philip soon procured a couple of suits suitable for the serving man of a gentleman of condition. One was a riding suit; with high boots, doublet, and trunks of sober colour and of a strong tough material; a leather sword belt and sword; and a low hat thickly lined and quilted, and capable of resisting a heavy blow. The other suit was for wear in the house. It was of dark green cloth of a much finer texture than the riding suit; with cloth stockings of the same colour, coming up above the knee, and then meeting the trunks or puffed breeches. A small cap with turned up brim, furnished with a few of the tail feathers of a black cock, completed the costume; a dagger being worn in the belt instead of the sword. Four woollen shirts, a pair of shoes, and a cloak were added to the purchases; which were placed in a valise, to be carried behind the saddle.
"Is there any house where you can change your clothes, Pierre? Of course you could do so at Monsieur Bertram's, but some of the men I brought with me will be there, and it would be just as well that they did not see you in your present attire."
"I can change at the stables, sir, if you will trust me with the clothes."
"Certainly, I will trust you. If I trust you sufficiently to take you as my servant, I can surely trust you in a matter like this. Do you know of anyone who has a stout nag for sale?"
Pierre knew of several and, giving Philip an address, the latter was not long in purchasing one, with saddle and bridle complete. He ordered this to be sent, at once, to the stables where Pierre had been employed, with directions that it was to be handed over to his servant.
It was one o'clock in the day when Madame Vaillant embarked, and it was late in the afternoon before Philip returned to Monsieur Bertram's house.
"What have you done about that vagabond Pierre?"
"I have hired him," Philip said.
"You don't say that you have taken him, after what I have told you about him!" the merchant exclaimed.
"I have, indeed. He pleaded hard for a trial, and I am going to give him one. I believe that he will turn out a useful fellow. I am sure that he is shrewd, and he ought to be full of expedients. As to his appearance, good food and decent clothes will make him another man. I think he will turn out a merry fellow, when he is well fed and happy; and I must say, Maitre Bertram, that I am not fond of long faces. Lastly, I believe that he will be faithful."
"Well, well, well, I wash my hands of it altogether, Monsieur Philip. I am sorry I spoke to you about him, but I never for a moment thought you would take him. If harm comes of it, don't blame me."
"I will hold you fully acquitted," Philip laughed. "I own that I have taken quite a fancy to him, and believe that he will turn out well."
An hour later one of the domestics came in, with word that Monsieur Philip's servant was below, and wished to know if he had any commands for him.
"Tell him to come up," Philip said, and a minute later Pierre entered.
He was dressed in his dark green costume. He had had his hair cut, and presented an appearance so changed that Philip would hardly have known him.
"By my faith!" the merchant said, "you have indeed transformed him. He is not a bad-looking varlet, now that he has got rid of that tangled crop of hair."
Pierre bowed low at the compliment.
"Fine feathers make fine birds, Monsieur Bertram," replied Pierre. "It is the first time I have had the opportunity of proving the truth of the proverb. I am greatly indebted to monsieur, for recommending me to my master."
"It is not much recommendation you got from me, Pierre," the merchant said bluntly; "for a more troublesome young scamp I never had in my warehouse. Still, as I told Monsieur Philip, I think everything has been against you; and I do hope, now that this English gentleman has given you a chance, that you will take advantage of it."
"I mean to, sir," the young fellow said earnestly, and without a trace of the mocking smile with which he had first spoken. "If I do not give my master satisfaction, it will not be for want of trying. I shall make mistakes at first–it will all be strange to me, but I feel sure that he will make allowances. I can at least promise that he will find me faithful and devoted."
"Has your horse arrived, Pierre?"
"Yes, sir. I saw him watered and fed before I came out. Is it your wish that I should go round to the stables where your horse and those of your troop are, and take charge of your horse at once?"
"No, Pierre; the men will look after him, as usual. We will start at six in the morning. Be at the door, on horseback, at that hour."
Pierre bowed and withdrew.
"I do not feel so sure as I did that you have made a bad bargain, Monsieur Philip. As far as appearances go, at any rate, he would pass muster. Except that his cheeks want filling out a bit, he is a nimble, active-looking young fellow; and with that little moustache of his, and his hair cut short, he is by no means ill looking. I really should not have known him. I think at present he means what he says, though whether he will stick to it is another matter, altogether."
"I think he will stick to it," Philip said quietly. "Putting aside what he says about being faithful to me, he is shrewd enough to see that it is a better chance than he is ever likely to have, again, of making a start in life. He has been leading a dog's life, ever since he was a child; and to be well fed, and well clothed, and fairly treated will be a wonderful change for him.
"My only fear is that he may get into some scrape at the chateau. I believe that he is naturally full of fun, and fun is a thing that the Huguenots, with all their virtues, hardly appreciate."
"A good thrashing will tame him of that," the merchant said.
Philip laughed.
"I don't think I shall be driven to try that. I don't say that servants are never thrashed in England, but I have not been brought up among the class who beat their servants. I think I shall be able to manage him without that. If I can't, we must part.
"I suppose there is no doubt, Monsieur Bertram, how La Rochelle will go when the troubles begin?"