On entering the Scottish Soldier, Hector found that, as he hoped, the
cabaret was deserted, for it was the hour at which the regiment was
assembled for drill. It would have been a little embarrassing for him
as a colonel to come upon a number of private soldiers at the cabaret.
Separately he might have chatted with each, but a general greeting when
a number of them were there together would have been embarrassing.
The old sergeant as he entered ran up to him. “Well done, my lad, well
done! 'Tis a delight to me indeed to know that you have so grandly made
your way, and already won the rank of colonel.”
“Why, how did you know, MacIntosh?”
“The guard at the colonel's was changed just after you went into his
quarters, and you may be sure that they lost no time in spreading the
news that you had returned, and returned a colonel. In ten minutes this
place was as full as it would hold, and there was such a crowd outside
the door that a sergeant-de-ville came in to inquire what was the
matter, thinking, perhaps, that the regiment was in mutiny. I was right
glad when I heard the trumpet sound the assembly a few minutes ago, and
they had to rush off in a hurry, for I felt that it would be awkward for
you were you to come in when they were all so excited.”
“Yes, I was glad myself when I found that they were gone. I regard every
soldier in the regiment as my friend, and would shake hands with them
now as heartily as I did when I went away near four years back, but I
myself felt that it would be somewhat embarrassing were I greeted by
them wine cup in hand. Here are twenty pistoles; say that I left them
here for them to drink my health on my promotion, but that I shall be
so busy during the day or two that I remain in Paris that I shall not be
able to pay another visit here. Now let us have a quiet talk together,
and give me all the news of the regiment.”
“Perhaps, colonel--”
“Oh, you need not call me colonel, MacIntosh, when you and I are
together alone. I am what I was--Hector Campbell, the lad to whom you
showed so much kindness for his father's sake. Yes, I will tell you one
or two of my adventures, and you shall come round to me tomorrow morning
at seven o'clock at the Hotel Conde, and we will stroll out together,
and sit down in the gardens of the Palais Cardinal, and you shall then
tell me about the regiment, who have gone, and what changes there are.”
“That will be best,” the sergeant said. “We did hear something of how
you were made captain. Turenne was good enough to tell the colonel, and
so some of it came down to us, but of course it was very little. The
men would like to hear all about it and about this battle at Rocroi, at
which, of course, you must have in some way distinguished yourself to be
appointed colonel at your age.”
Hector gave him a full account of the battle. “The special thing for
which I was promoted,” he said, at the finish, “was that, the night
before, it struck me that there might be an ambush set in the copses
in the hollow between the two armies. So far as I could see, no efforts
whatever had been made either to occupy the woods or to find out if the
enemy had done so; so I went with my servant, who is a capital fellow,
and we made our way into them, and discovered a regiment of musketeers
hidden there. Of course I reported the fact to General Gassion, and
he told the prince. So, before attacking the enemy's lines, the prince
charged right along the wood and destroyed the musketeers there. If he
had not done so, they would have taken him in rear when he was hotly
engaged with the Spaniards, and might have changed the fate of the
battle.”
“Certainly they might,” the sergeant said. “A volley from a thousand
muskets from the rear would well shake even the best cavalry. It was a
happy thought of yours indeed.”
“Any merit there is in it was due to Turenne, who had carefully
instructed me in everything that could be of importance when two hostile
armies faced each other; and as he would never have dreamt of retiring
to rest before having every place where an enemy could conceal himself
carefully searched, it seemed to me a matter of course that it should be
done. However, General Gassion and the prince were both good enough to
consider that the service was a vital one, and as soon as the battle was
over the prince gave me my promotion.”
“And it was well earned, lad, well earned. And now about that affair at
Turin.”
“It could not have been better done, Hector,” the old soldier said in
high delight when the story was told. “I used to think that you spent
more time than was necessary in reading over accounts of battles and
sieges, but I see that the time was well spent. You may be sure that I
will be with you at seven tomorrow morning,” he added as Hector rose to
leave, “though I expect I shall have a heavy night of it here, for there
will scarcely be a man in the regiment who won't come round and stay to
hear the news. I warrant that by this evening there will not be a sou
remaining out of the money you have left for them.”
Hector arrived at the hotel just in time for the midday meal, and was
pleased to find that Conde himself was not present. He and his two
companions were placed at different points at the great table, so that
as many as possible could hear the story of the battle. After the meal
was over, Hector was glad to leave the salon, and in company with a
gentleman of the household, who had volunteered to be his guide, spent
the afternoon in visiting the principal sights of Paris, of which he had
seen but little when a boy in barracks. The hotels of the nobles, each a
fortress rather than a private building, interested him greatly, as
also the streets in which the principal traders lived; but he was
unfavourably impressed with the appearance of the population in all
other parts, and could well understand what his guide told him, that it
was dangerous in the extreme for a gentleman unattended to pass through
these quarters.
At six o'clock he sat down to the evening meal at Conde's, after which,
having attired himself in his new suit, he repaired with de Penthiere
and de Caussac to the Louvre. It was eight o'clock when they entered,
the reception rooms were already full, and the brilliancy of the
attire, both of the courtiers and ladies, seen by the light of great
chandeliers, was impressive in the extreme to one who had never seen any
gathering of the kind before. There was a little pause in the buzz of
conversation as the three officers entered, and Hector's two companions
were at once surrounded by friends, while he himself was joined by
Colonel Maclvor and the other two officers.
“You are the heroes of the evening, Campbell,” the former said with a
laugh. “A dozen ladies have already asked me to present you to them.”
“Well, please don't do so just now, colonel; let me look round first.”
“That is but fair, Campbell. First, though, I will tell you a piece of
news that I have just heard. The queen sent off a messenger two days
ago to Turenne, and it is believed that he is to have the command of the
army on the Rhine.”
“That is good news indeed,” Hector exclaimed. “It is high time that he
should be given a command, instead of being always put under men less
capable than himself. Still, it is unexpected at the present moment.”
“I know that the queen always had the greatest liking for Turenne,” the
colonel said, “but of course until now she has had no power. Moreover,
I fancy that the appointment is to some extent dictated by policy. Conde
is already dangerously powerful; Enghien's victory will, of course,
largely add to his influence. No doubt some large estates will be given
to the latter, such a service cannot be ungenerously rewarded, but
it will be thought unadvisable to give him at present further
opportunities. Conde is old, and his son, who is certainly ambitious and
hotheaded now, will be even more powerful than his father has been. Were
he to win more victories, and to become a popular idol, his power might
well overshadow that of the throne. Therefore it is likely enough that
my news is true. Turenne has proved that military duty is with him
supreme, for he held aloof from all the troubles in which his brother
the duke has involved himself, and he may act as a counterpoise to
Enghien. I fancy that the latter's plan, which, as you have told me,
would lead to a conquest of Flanders, will not be adopted. It would not
have been so in Richelieu's time. The red cardinal would not have lost a
moment in ordering him to march into Flanders, thinking only of the good
of France, and disregarding the fact that continued successes might lead
to his own power being shaken.”
“And you do not think that Mazarin will act in the same way?”
“I think not. Of course at present not much is known about him. He
affects the greatest humility, is almost obsequious to the great nobles,
and even professes to be anxious to return to Italy as soon as his
services here can be dispensed with. But I expect that he will in time
occupy as great a position as that of Richelieu, but that he will hold
it by craft rather than strength is, from the look of the man, likely
enough. For myself I should say that it is infinitely better for France
that an ecclesiastic like Richelieu or Mazarin should be at the head of
affairs, than that the great nobles should all struggle and intrigue for
power, ready as they have shown themselves over and over again to plunge
France into civil war for the attainment of their aims. Ah, here comes
the queen!”
The door at the end of the salon opened and Anne entered. By her side
walked the young king, a little behind were Orleans and Conde, Beaufort
and Bouillon, while, following them, with an air that was almost humble,
came Mazarin. The queen and the young king were dressed in violet, the
mourning colour of the court, and the ladies present all wore shades of
that colour relieved by white. All present formed themselves into
two lines, through which the queen walked. She acknowledged the deep
reverences, and the little king bowed repeatedly. Anne of Austria was
one of the most beautiful women of her time, and although the charm of
youth had disappeared, her stateliness of bearing made up for this loss,
and Hector thought that he had never seen so lovely a woman.
As soon as they had passed into an inner apartment known as the audience
chamber the lines broke up, and a buzz of conversation and light
laughter followed the silence that had reigned as the procession passed.
The court, indeed, felt a general feeling of relief at the death of
Louis. Although well meaning and desirous of doing good, the life of the
monarch had not been a happy one. His health had never been good, and
although he had the wisdom to see that in supporting Richelieu, and in
every way adding to his authority, he was acting for the good of France,
the knowledge that he himself was little more than a cipher galled
and irritated him. His disposition was a jealous one, and as the great
minister knew that Anne of Austria was ever his opponent politically, he
worked upon this feeling, and embittered the lives of both the king and
queen, and the latter was the constant victim of the king's jealousy and
caprices.
These things, combined with the ascetic temperament of the king, had
rendered the court of France a dismal one, and the royal salons formed
a strong contrast to the brilliancy of those of Richelieu. Now the king
was gone, and there was a general feeling of relief among the nobles
and ladies of the court. It might be that stormy times were ahead, and
indeed it was no secret that Conde, Beaufort, and many other nobles were
already united against Mazarin. They called themselves “The Importants,”
a term well suited to their own idea of their power, and of the position
they aspired to as the natural leaders of France.
“Madame de Chevreuse wishes you to be presented to her,” Colonel Maclvor
said to Hector. “Everyone knows her reputation; she is the cleverest
woman in France, and one of the most intriguing. She is the queen's
greatest friend, and has been her mainstay in her struggle with
Richelieu. Of one thing we may be sure, that she will not tamely see
Mazarin step into his place, and she has, it is whispered, already
thrown herself into the arms of 'The Importants,' and if anyone can
persuade the queen to throw over the cardinal it is she.”
With a slight shrug of his shoulders Hector followed the colonel to a
group of three or four ladies seated upon some fauteuils.
The colonel stopped before one of these, and bowing deeply said,
“Duchess, I have the honour to present to you my compatriot, Colonel
Campbell, who arrived here this morning with despatches from the Duc
d'Enghien.”
Madame Chevreuse, like the queen, was still a beautiful woman. She was
petite, and possessed a face whose fascination few could withstand.
She was the most restless of intriguers, and was never so happy as when
engaged in conspiracies which might cost her her estates and liberty.
“Why, Monsieur Campbell,” she said with a smile, “I had looked to see
a fierce warrior, and, lo and behold I find one who, by his appearance,
will be far more in his element at court than in the field.”
“Then appearances must greatly belie me, madame,” Hector said; “for
while I may say that I am at home in a military camp, I feel sorely ill
at ease here, and I feel I would rather face an enemy's battery than so
many beautiful faces.”
“That is not bad for a beginner,” the lady said with a smile, “but
methinks you will soon get over that fear, for there is nothing very
dangerous in any of us. The Duchesse de Longueville,” and she motioned
to the lady next to her, “is as desirous as myself that you should be
presented to her, and that she should hear from your lips somewhat more
of the doings of her brother than she has yet learned.”
Hector again bowed deeply. The sister of Enghien was as ambitious for
her brother's sake as he was for his own self, and she was his potent
ally in the troubles of the times.
“Enghien was wounded,” she said. “Monsieur la Moussaie left the field
directly the battle was won, and could tell me little about my brother's
injuries.”
“He received three wounds, duchess, but happily none of them were
severe, and he was on horseback on the following morning. It seemed
miraculous to us all that he should so escape, for he rode ever ahead of
us in the charges against the Spanish square.”
“You were acting as one of his aides-de-camp? I do not remember having
seen your face before.”
“No, madame. I have been for the past four years on the staff of the
Viscount de Turenne, and have not left the army during that time. The
general had the goodness, seeing that there was little doing in the
south, to send me to learn what I could from the operations of the
duke against the Spanish. He sent me a letter of recommendation to your
brother, who kindly appointed me to the same position under him that I
had occupied under Turenne.”
“Did you find the ladies of Italy very lovely?” Madame de Chevreuse
asked suddenly.
“In truth, madame, I had but small opportunities of judging, seeing
that, unless when sent with some message from the general to the Duchess
of Savoy, I do not think that I exchanged a single word with a woman
during the whole of my stay there.”
Madame de Chevreuse, and the Duchesse de Longueville, and all the ladies
sitting round, smiled.
“Then you have very much to learn, Colonel Campbell,” Madame de
Chevreuse said. “You will find plenty of ladies in the court here who
will not object to give you lessons.”
“I trust, madame,” Hector said bluntly, “that there will be little
opportunity for me to take lessons as to the manners of the court, for I
hope that my stay here will be short indeed.”
“That is a most ungallant speech,” the younger duchess said, laughing,
“and shows indeed the truth of what you have said as to your ignorance
of women. Do you not know, sir; that it is an unwritten law at court
that every gentleman here must be at the feet of one fair lady?”
“I suppose that, had I been brought up at court,” Hector said, “I should
not be more insensible than others; but when one passes three-quarters
of one's time on horseback, and that under a commander like Turenne, who
sets us all an example in the matter of endurance and watchfulness, one
has small leisure indeed for aught else, and indeed is glad enough to
seek one's bed as soon as the day's work is done.”
“If you are another Turenne,” Madame de Chevreuse laughed, “I give you
up. He is the most insensible of men. His head contains but one idea,
and that is duty; and as to us poor creatures, he is as insensible as
was St. Anthony.”
At this moment the door that separated the salon from that of the queen
opened, and the names of Monsieur de Penthiere and Monsieur de Caussac
were called. The two officers at once passed into the inner room.
“You are either left out in the cold, monsieur le colonel, or you will
have the honour of a separate audience,” Madame de Chevreuse said.
“As I have been rewarded far above my merits for any service that I
have rendered,” Hector said quietly, “it is probable that the queen has
nothing to say to me. She was pleased to receive me very graciously this
morning, and gave me her hand to kiss, and I assuredly have no right to
expect any further favours.”
In a few minutes the two officers came out, both looking radiant, the
queen having graciously presented them with the titles to two estates. A
minute later Hector's name was called, and he went off, with a deep bow
to the ladies and a murmured apology for leaving them.
“A loyal spirit, surely,” Madame de Chevreuse said; “bizarre, of course,
and at present simple as a child. Moreover, I should say that the
atmosphere of the court will not infect him as it has the others. It
is refreshing to meet with one who, although he must have distinguished
himself vastly, is still modest and simple, without a shadow of conceit
or of self consciousness. He spoke as frankly to us as if we were two
waiting maids at a cabaret. However, men of that stamp may always be
made useful, and I would rather have the devotion of a young officer
like that, who is, I should say, likely to rise to high rank, than that
of half a dozen men ready to lay their hearts at the feet of the first
comer, and who are as ready to change mistresses as sides.”
By this time the door had closed behind Hector. The queen was sitting
on a sofa, with the little king by her side. Mazarin stood a pace behind
her. Conde and Orleans had a short time before gone out, and had mingled
with the crowd in the antechamber, and the courtiers present, who were
all members of her council, stood some distance in the rear.
“We have had time, Colonel Campbell, to read our despatches, and can now
estimate the service that you rendered the Duc d'Enghien and our army.
General Gassion, or I should say Marshal Gassion, for he has today been
raised to that rank, speaks of the value of that service in terms of the
highest eulogy, and indeed says frankly, that had it not been for your
voluntary expedition and the discovery by you of the Spanish ambuscade,
it is probable that we should have suffered a defeat instead of a
victory. The duke speaks no less strongly in your favour. I can remember
that when the Viscount Turenne was here three years ago, he told us how
a young Scottish officer on his staff had saved Turin to us by a most
daring enterprise, by which he informed the garrison of the citadel that
help would soon reach them, and mentioned that for that service he had
appointed Monsieur Campbell a captain. You are Scottish by birth, are
you not?”
“I am, your majesty, by birth and descent. My father was a captain in
the Scottish regiment, and fell at the siege of La Rochelle. I was, I
may say, adopted by the regiment, and had the good fortune to be trained
in arms from a child, and the still greater fortune to attract the
attention of the Viscount de Turenne, who, young as I was, obtained a
commission for me and appointed me to his staff.”
“Well, young sir, the viscount rewarded you for the great service that
you rendered him at Turin; the Duc d'Enghien has similarly rewarded you
for your service to him at Rocroi; but it is ours to reward you for
your services to France; and Cardinal Mazarin will, in my name, hand you
tomorrow the estate of de la Villar, in Poitou, which carries with it
the title of Baron de la Villar. A soldier who has rendered such service
to us cannot be allowed to remain a soldier dependent on his pay, and
I am sure that should need arise you will do me as good service as you
have rendered to Turenne and Enghien.”
“Your majesty is too good and gracious,” Hector stammered, overcome
by this sudden and unexpected reward; “but be assured, madame”--and he
recovered himself, and his voice was steady--“should there be need, I
will willingly lay down my life in your majesty's service, and in that
of the king, your son.”
“Which means also,” the queen said gently, “in that of my minister, who
may need faithful friends even more than we do, and under whose advice
we have now acted.”
“Assuredly, madame. Cardinal Mazarin is your minister, and as long as
he possesses your confidence he represents France in my eyes, and I will
render as faithful service to him as to yourself.”
“Well spoken, baron,” the queen said graciously. “Henceforth I shall
count you as among my friends.” She held out her hand for him to
kiss, as did the little king, and after a deep bow to them and to the
cardinal, Hector left the audience chamber still almost bewildered by
the honours bestowed upon him.
Hector made his way through the crowd to the side of Colonel Maclvor,
the general verdict of those who watched him being that he had not met
with the same good fortune as those who preceded him, but that for some
reason or other he had been reprimanded.
“Well, lad,” the colonel said, “what fortune have you met with? Judging
by your face, either the queen or the cardinal have failed to recognize
the service that you have rendered.”
“Upon the contrary, colonel, they have so heaped favours upon me that
at present I can scarcely realize my good fortune, and feel almost
humiliated that so much should have been given for what was a mere
matter of duty and attended by no great peril.”
“What have they done, then, Campbell?”
“Well, colonel, absurd as it seems even to myself, the queen has
graciously bestowed upon me the estate of la Villar, by which gift she
says I become as its owner the Baron de la Villar.”
“That is fortunate indeed, my dear Campbell,” the colonel said, heartily
shaking him by the hand. “It shows that the duke and Gassion were of
the same opinion that we expressed, namely, that your discovery of that
ambush was the chief factor in bringing about the victory of Rocroi.”
“But it was such a simple thing,” Hector said. “It was merely a
reconnaissance, such as I have made scores of times in Italy.”
“No doubt, Campbell; but you see the other reconnaissances did not lead
to any results, while this did. My dear lad, it is by results that
men are judged. That you, a young officer on Enghien's staff, should
unbidden, and, as you say, as a matter of duty, have undertaken such a
business, shows how thoroughly you have profited by your teaching under
Turenne; and as such you deserve what you have gained, though I do
not say that you would have obtained your desserts had not your
reconnaissance saved Enghien from defeat. Now I will take you to Madame
de Chevreuse again. She beckoned to me after you entered the audience
chamber, and told me to bring you up again when you came out, as she and
the Duchesse de Longueville had taken a great fancy to you. Now, my
dear boy, your position is changed. You have become a French noble, and,
however unwilling, may find yourself mixed up on one side or the other
with the doings of your court. Both these ladies have power, and it is
well to keep in with them, for either of them might prove a valuable
friend and protector, and the first rule here is make as many friends as
possible, for no one can say when you may require them.”
Hector again followed the colonel to the group of ladies.
“Madame,” Maclvor said, “I have the honour to present you--”
“Why, have you not presented him to us already?” Madame de Chevreuse
said with a laugh. “Your memory must be singularly short, colonel.”
“My memory is not short, madame, but it is a somewhat different
personage that I have now to present to you. Madame, I have the honour
to present Colonel Campbell, Baron de la Villar.”
Both ladies uttered an exclamation of surprise.
“Why, what has he done, colonel?” the duchess exclaimed. “It must have
been some remarkable action, surely, for him to be made colonel by my
brother and Baron de la Villar by the queen.”
“In the opinion of the Duc d'Enghien and General Gassion, duchess, he
performed a service that to a large extent brought about the victory of
Rocroi. My young friend is at present not beyond the age of modesty,
and therefore if you will allow me I will state the circumstances. Under
General de Turenne he was in the habit of constantly visiting the posts
at night with the viscount or alone, and endeavouring to discover the
position and intentions of the enemy. The night before the battle he
started voluntarily to perform the same duties, and, accompanied only
by his servant, he crept into a wood that lay between the two armies
and there discovered a thousand musketeers who were lying in ambush. He
reported the discovery to General Gassion, who on his part informed the
duke of this most important intelligence, for it was evident that, had
the ambuscade been unsuspected, they would have taken the cavalry in
the rear at the critical moment of the battle, and would have opened so
heavy a fire that even the bravest of cavalry, thus surprised and
shot down by an unsuspected foe in their rear, might have fallen into
confusion. Being forewarned, the duke directed his first charge upon
the wood, took the musketeers by surprise, and annihilated them, before
charging and routing the enemy's horse. Thus you see, ladies, that we
have another illustration of the mouse saving the lion, and the lion was
generous and noble minded enough to give the mouse full credit for the
service that he had rendered him.”
“Then we have good reason to be grateful to you, monsieur le baron,”
Madame Chevreuse said, laying aside the bantering tone in which she
had before addressed the young Scot, “and her majesty has done well
to reward your loyalty, for the estate is a fine one, and has remained
without a master since Richelieu brought its last owner to the block
for having, as he affirmed, conspired against the king--that is to
say, against himself. You have begun well indeed, sir. Henceforth the
Duchesse de Longueville and myself may be counted upon as your friends.
And now,” she said, changing the subject abruptly, “as you say that you
are anxious to be off, with whom will you serve, with Turenne or with
Enghien? For I hear that Turenne has been sent for to take the command
of the army of the Rhine.”
“I belong to Viscount Turenne,” Hector said. “It is to him that I owe
everything. He picked me up a rough boy, with no recommendation save
that my father died fighting for France, and that I was more addicted to
military study than most lads of my age, and that, as he was good enough
to say, I reminded him of his own boyhood. It was owing to his kindness
and his tuition that I have now made my way, and it was still further to
increase my military knowledge that he sent me for a time to serve under
the Duc d'Enghien. Therefore, much as I admire the glory that the duke
has gained, and recognize his extraordinary genius, I feel that duty and
gratitude alike bind me to my great master.”
“Quite right,” the Duchesse de Longueville said warmly. “I am sure that
my brother will approve of your decision. He admires Turenne as much as
you do, and regards him as his master in military science, and it may be
perhaps that one of these days you will take part in a battle in which
my brother and Turenne will both have command.”
“If it be so, madame,” Hector said, “there can be little doubt of
victory, for with the two greatest military geniuses France has produced
during the last hundred years it would be hard indeed if victory did not
attend their united banners.”
The news of the honour that had been bestowed upon this young colonel
circulated rapidly through the salon, and many gentlemen came up and
begged Colonel Maclvor to introduce him to them. One who had received
so marked a proof of the queen's favour, and who had won the praise and
goodwill of both Turenne and Enghien, might well become in time a man of
mark, and so many compliments were showered upon Hector that he was glad
indeed when the queen again passed through the room on her way to her
apartments and he was at liberty to retire. He walked slowly back to
Conde's palace, went up to his room, changed his court suit for that
which he had worn during the day, and then went out again, feeling
that it would be hopeless to attempt to sleep. He paced backwards and
forwards for some hours on the quay, thinking of the changes that three
days had brought about.
He could scarcely realize even now, that he who a week ago was but a
captain with nought but his pay, was now not only a colonel but a noble
of France, with an estate of whose value he was ignorant, but as it
carried with it a patent of nobility it was evident that it must be one
of dimensions sufficient to support the title. The change excited no
feeling of exultation. His whole thoughts so far had been directed
solely to his career as a soldier. He had hoped that some day he might
win a colonelcy; more than that he had never thought of. High commands
in France were matters of birth, interest, and connection. Gassion, who
had just earned his marshal's baton, was the sole exception to the
rule. Hitherto generals, and still more marshals, had always been men
belonging to the first families of France. It had been a matter of
course that when an army went to the field it was under the command of
a prince of the blood, and the utmost an outsider could look for was the
command of a regiment. The promotion had delighted him, not for the sake
of the pay or position, but because, if he obtained the command of one
of the regiments that were rapidly being formed to meet the dangers that
threatened France, he would have opportunities of doing good service
and of earning the esteem of such men as Turenne. His civil dignity,
however, oppressed rather than gratified him. He would have heavy
responsibilities. When not on active service he would be expected to
show himself at court, and would have a difficulty in holding himself
aloof from its intrigues and conspiracies. His thoughts turned to
Scotland. He had relations there, it was true, both on his father's and
mother's side, but they were strangers to him. Moreover, Scotland at
present was torn by a civil and religious war. In England a civil war
was raging, and the extreme party in Scotland, having got the upper
hand, had allied themselves with the English parliamentarians, and the
cause of the king was well nigh lost.
The Scottish officers and men in the French service had for the most
part left their homes owing to the bitter religious differences of the
times, and, under the easier conditions of the life in France, had come
to look with disgust at the narrow bigotry of the Scottish sects, a
feeling heightened perhaps by the deep resentment that still prevailed
in France at the insolence with which Knox and the Scottish reformers
had treated their princess, Queen Mary. Among the French officers the
feeling was wholly in favour of the royal cause in England. The queen
was French, and had France herself not been engaged in warfare numbers
of the young nobles would have gone over and drawn their swords in her
cause, and Hector would gladly have done the same.
For the time, at any rate, he had no idea whatever of returning to
Scotland. If better times came he had often thought that, if successful
in winning a competency, he would return to his native land, for his
close connection with the Scottish regiment kept alive in him his
feeling of nationality, and he always regarded himself as a stranger in
France. The estates and title now bestowed upon him seemed to put this
hope further away than ever, and to fix him permanently in France, a
contingency more disagreeable to him the more he saw how completely
France was dominated by faction, and how unstable were the conditions of
life there. His musings, therefore, as he walked up and down for hours,
were very different from those which most young men would have felt at
so great and sudden a change in their fortunes.