The return of the attacking party to Bordeaux presented a doleful
spectacle. The worthy tradesmen had left home triumphantly on the
previous day, relying upon their numbers and upon the ability of their
leaders; in fact, their minds were entirely at ease as to the result
of the expedition, from sheer force of habit, which sometimes answers
all the purposes of confidence to men who are in danger. For who was
there among them who had not in his young days haunted the woods and
fields of Île Saint-Georges? Where could you find a Bordelais who had
not handled the oar, the fowling-piece, or the fisherman's net in the
neighborhood which they were about to revisit as soldiers.
Thus the defeat was doubly depressing to the honest fellows; the
locality shamed them no less than the enemy. So it was that they
returned with hanging heads, and listened resignedly to the lamentation
and wailing of the women, who ascertained the losses sustained by the
vanquished forces, by counting them after the manner of the savages of
America.
The great city was filled with mourning and consternation. The soldiers
returned to their homes to describe the disaster, each in his own way.
The chiefs betook themselves to the apartments occupied by the princess
at the house of the president.
Madame de Condé was at her window awaiting the return of the
volunteers. Sprung as she was from a family of warriors, wife of one
of the greatest conquerors in the world, and brought up to look with
scorn upon the rusty armor and absurd headgear of the militia, she
could not restrain a feeling of uneasiness as she thought that those
same citizens, her partisans, had gone out to contend against a force
of old, well-disciplined soldiers. But there were three considerations
from which she derived some comfort: in the first place, Monsieur de
La Rochefoucauld was in command; in the second place the Navailles
regiment had the right of the line; in the third place, the name of
Condé was inscribed upon the banners.
But every one of these considerations, which gave the princess ground
for hope, was the source of bitter grief to Madame de Cambes; even so
did everything that grieved the illustrious dame become a source of
triumph to the viscountess.
The Duc de La Rochefoucauld was the first to make his appearance,
covered with dust and blood; the sleeve of his black doublet was torn
open, and there were spots of blood upon his shirt.
"Is this true that I hear?" cried the princess, darting to meet him.
"What do you hear, madame?" he asked, coolly.
"That you were repulsed."
"You have not heard the whole, madame; to put it frankly, we have been
beaten."
"Beaten!" cried the princess, turning pale; "beaten! it isn't possible!"
"Beaten!" murmured the viscountess; "beaten by Monsieur de Canolles!"
"How did it happen, I pray to know?" demanded Madame de Condé, in a
freezing tone eloquent of her bitter indignation.
"It happened, madame, as all miscalculations happen, in play, in
love, in war; we attacked those who were more clever or stronger than
ourselves."
"Pray is this Monsieur de Canolles such a gallant fellow?" queried the
princess.
Madame de Cambes' heart throbbed with delight.
"Oh! _mon Dieu!_" replied La Rochefoucauld with a shrug, "not more so
than another! But as he had fresh soldiers, stout walls, and was on
the lookout for us, having probably received warning of our attack,
he had the advantage of our good Bordelais. Ah! madame, let me remark
parenthetically that they are sorry soldiers! They ran away at the
second volley."
"And Navailles?" cried Claire, heedless of the imprudence of such a
demonstration.
"Madame," replied La Rochefoucauld, "the only difference between
Navailles and the militia is that the militia ran away, and Navailles
fell back."
"The only thing we lack now is to lose Vayres!"
"I don't say that we shall not," retorted La Rochefoucauld, coolly.
"Beaten!" exclaimed the princess, tapping the floor with her foot;
"beaten by upstarts, commanded by a Monsieur de Canolles! the very name
is absurd."
Claire blushed to the whites of her eyes.
"You think the name absurd, madame," rejoined the duke, "but Monsieur
de Mazarin thinks it sublime. And I should almost venture to say," he
added with a swift, keen glance at Claire, "that he's not alone in his
opinion. Names are like colors, madame," he continued with his bilious
smile; "there's no accounting for tastes concerning them."
"Do you think Richon is the man to allow himself to be whipped?"
"Why not? I have allowed myself to be whipped! We must wait until the
vein of bad luck is exhausted; war is a game; one day or another we
shall have our revenge."
"This wouldn't have happened," said Madame de Tourville, "if my plan
had been adopted."
"That's very true," said the princess; "they are never willing to do
what we suggest, on the ground that we are women and know nothing about
war. The men have their own way and get beaten."
_"Mon Dieu,_ yes, madame; but that happens to the greatest generals.
Paulus Æmilius was beaten at Cannae, Pompey at Pharsalia, and Attila
at Chalons. There are none but Alexander and yourself, Madame de
Tourville, who have never been beaten. Let us hear your plan."
"My plan, Monsieur le Duc," said Madame de Tourville in her primmest
manner, "was to lay siege to the fortress in regular form. They
wouldn't listen to me, but preferred a _coup de main._ You see the
result."
"Answer madame, Monsieur Lenet," said the duke; "for my own part I do
not feel sufficiently strong in strategy to maintain the conflict."
"Madame," said Lenet, whose lips thus far had opened only to smile,
"there was this to be said against your idea of a regular siege, that
the Bordelais are not soldiers but citizens; they must have supper
under their own roof and sleep in their own bed. Now, a regular
siege requires those concerned in it to dispense with a multitude of
conveniences to which our worthy burghers are accustomed. So they went
out to besiege Île Saint-Georges as amateurs; do not blame them for
having failed to-day; they will travel the four leagues and recommence
the struggle as often as need be."
"You think that they will begin again?" the princess inquired.
"Oh! as to that, madame," said Lenet, "I am quite sure of it; they are
too fond of their island to leave it in the king's hands."
"And they will take it?"
"Most assuredly, some day or other."
"Very good! on the day that they take it," cried Madame la Princesse,
"I propose that this insolent Monsieur de Canolles shall be shot unless
he surrenders at discretion."
Claire felt a deathly shudder run through her veins.
"Shot!" echoed the duke; "_peste!_ if that's according to your
Highness's ideas of war, I congratulate myself most sincerely that I am
numbered among your friends."
"Let him surrender, then."
"I would like to know what your Highness would say if Richon were to
surrender."
"We're not talking of Richon, Monsieur le Duc; Richon is not in
question now. Bring me a citizen, a sheriff, a councillor,--somebody
to whom I can talk and assure myself that this cup is not without
bitterness to those who have put it to my lips."
"Luckily enough," said Lenet, "Monsieur d'Espagnet is even now at the
door, soliciting the honor of an audience of your Highness."
"Admit him," said the princess.
Throughout this scene Claire's heart had beaten at times as if it would
burst, and again had felt as if it would never beat again. She said to
herself that the Bordelais would make Canolles pay dear for his triumph.
But it was much worse when Espagnet, by his protestations surpassed
Lenet's confident anticipations.
"Madame," said he to the princess, "I beg that your Highness will have
no fear; instead of four thousand men we will send eight thousand;
instead of six pieces of cannon, we will take along twelve; instead of
one hundred men, we will lose two, three, four hundred, if need be, but
we will take Saint-Georges!"
"Bravo! monsieur," cried the duke; "spoken like a man! You know that I
am with you, whether as your leader or as a volunteer, as often as you
undertake this task. But bear in mind, I beg, that at the rate of five
hundred men lost for each of four expeditions like this one, our army
will be reduced one-fifth."
"Monsieur le Duc," rejoined Espagnet, "we have thirty thousand men
in condition to bear arms at Bordeaux; we will drag all the cannon
from the arsenal to the fortress, if necessary; we will discharge
enough ammunition to reduce a mountain of granite to powder; I will
myself cross the river at the head of the sappers, and we will take
Saint-Georges; we have just sworn a solemn oath to do it."
"I doubt whether you will take Saint-Georges so long as Monsieur de
Canolles is alive," said Claire in an almost inaudible voice.
"Then we will kill him, or have him killed, and take Saint-Georges
afterward," rejoined Espagnet.
Madame de Cambes stifled the cry of dismay that came to her lips.
"Do you desire to take Saint-Georges?"
"Do we desire it!" cried the princess; "I should say as much; we desire
little else."
"Very well!" said Madame de Cambes, "let me have my way, and I will put
the place in your hands."
"Bah!" exclaimed the princess; "you promised much the same thing once
before and failed."
"I promised your Highness to make an attempt to win over Monsieur de
Canolles. That attempt failed because I found Monsieur de Canolles
inflexible."
"Do you expect to find him more easy to approach after his triumph?"
"No; for that reason I did not say this time that I would turn over the
governor to you, but the place itself."
"How so?"
"By admitting your soldiers into the very heart of the fortress."
"Are you a fairy, madame, that you undertake such a task?" La
Rochefoucauld asked her.
"No, monsieur, I am a landowner," said the viscountess.
"Madame is pleased to jest," retorted the duke.
"Not at all, not at all," said Lenet. "I can imagine a world of meaning
in the three words just uttered by Madame de Cambes."
"Then that is all I require," said the viscountess; "Monsieur Lenet's
approval means everything to me. I say again that Saint-Georges is as
good as taken, if I may be allowed to say four words in private to
Monsieur Lenet."
"Madame," chimed in Madame de Tourville, "I too can take Saint-Georges,
if I can have my way."
"Let Madame de Tourville first set forth her plan so that we can all
hear," said Lenet, checking the effort Madame de Cambes was making to
lead him into a corner; "then you shall whisper yours to me."
"Say on, madame," said the princess.
"I would start at night with twenty boats carrying two hundred
musketeers; another party, equal in number, would creep along the right
bank; four or five hundred more would ascend the left bank; meanwhile
ten or twelve hundred Bordelais--"
"Bear in mind, madame," interposed La Rochefoucauld, "that you already
have ten or twelve hundred men engaged."
"I will take Saint-Georges with a single company," said Claire; "give
me Navailles, and I will answer for the result."
"'Tis worth considering," said the princess, while Monsieur de La
Rochefoucauld, with his most contemptuous smile, gazed pityingly
at these women who presumed to discuss military questions which
embarrassed the boldest and most enterprising men.
"I will listen to you now, madame," said Lenet. "Come this way."
He led Claire to a window recess, where she whispered her secret in his
ear.
Lenet emitted a joyful exclamation.
"Indeed, madame," said he, turning to the princess, "if you will give
Madame de Cambes _carte blanche,_ Saint-Georges is ours."
"When?" the princess demanded.
"When you please."
"Madame is a great captain!" sneered La Rochefoucauld.
"You may judge for yourself, Monsieur le Duc," said Lenet, "when you
enter Saint-Georges in triumph, without firing a single shot."
"When that time comes I will approve."
"If it's as certain as you say," said the princess, "let everything be
prepared for to-morrow."
"On such day and at such hour as your Highness pleases," said Claire.
"I will await your commands in my apartment."
With that she bowed and withdrew; the princess, who had passed in
an instant from wrath to hope, did the same, followed by Madame de
Tourville. Espagnet, having renewed his protestations, took his
departure, and the duke was left alone with Lenet.