CHAPTER XIV.

It may well be conceived that the first few miles of my return were

travelled without any particular observation on my part of the objects

around me. Moric Endem was not with me to call my attention to this

thing or that, and to inspire me with the same remarking and

commenting spirit as himself; and, busy with the thoughts and feelings

of my own bosom, I rode on, seeing, perhaps, the things that I passed

with the mere corporeal eye, but with the communication between the

organ of sight and the reasoning brain altogether cut off for the

time.

I had gone on thus for about five miles, when the distant sound of a

trumpet caught my ear, and caused me to make an effort to shake off

selfish sorrow, and turn to the business of life again. The spot at

which I had then arrived was so enclosed with trees, though close to

the edge of a high hill, commanding a view over a wide plain below,

that I could not see any object at a distance, and, riding quickly

forward to the point where the road left the wood and opened upon the

bare slope, I gazed down into the plain.

My surprise was not small at seeing a very considerable body of men,

perhaps three or four thousand, winding along at the distance of fully

four miles. They were marching in a line rather to the left of that

which the Protestant camp occupied, and seemed to me to be bending

their way rapidly towards the Charente. They were easily to be

distinguished from the Protestants, whose white cassocks always

afforded a distinguishing mark at a great distance; and I would

instantly have endeavoured to cut off some stragglers from their rear,

in order to ascertain what was their object and destination, had I not

been shackled by a flag of truce, and felt myself bound to return to

our camp before I made any attack upon the enemy.

I rode on, therefore, as fast as possible, trusting that, as night was

not far distant, the party I had seen would lodge itself in some of

the neighbouring villages. As soon as I had arrived at my own

quarters, I made some inquiries in regard to any movements that had

taken place, and found indications of the army marching by detachments

towards the Loire. Montgomery I could not find, though I sent

messengers seeking for him in different directions; and I consequently

made up my mind to let my men take some repose, to mount them upon

fresh horses, of which my little band had now a plenty, and if there

was a possibility of seeing our way after nightfall, to beat up the

enemy's quarters and endeavour to gain some information.

Giving orders to this effect, I sat down to my solitary supper, and

had very nearly concluded the meal when Montgomery himself entered,

saying, "I have come to sup with you, De Cerons. They tell me you have

been sending all over the place for me; so I suppose you have some

news."

I gave him the best cheer I could, and, while we sat together, told

him what I had seen and what I proposed to do.

"They are on foot again, are they?" he said, after thinking over the

whole for a few minutes. "They must have got information that De Pile

is moving up from Guyenne with our re-enforcements, and wish to cut

him off. Yet what can be done? The orders we have received to-night

are distinct, to march upon the Loire; and if we do not do so, and do

so quickly, we shall never be able to effect our junction with the

Germans and the Duc de Deux Ponts, or Zweibrucken, as his own people

call him, and that were worse than missing be Pile. However, the only

thing that can be done is what you propose yourself, to gain any

intelligence that we can, to show these gentlemen that they are

discovered, and to send instant information to the prince and the

admiral. But, to make your reconnoissance anything at all effectual,

you must have more men, De Cerons. What will you have?"

Of course I was glad to take as large a force as could easily be

managed in the darkness of the night; and as the arquebusiers had

proved of great use to me on my former expedition, I required their

presence, together with some ten more spears, which Montgomery readily

granted. From him I gained a more thorough knowledge, too, than I had

hitherto acquired, of all the existing plans and circumstances of the

Protestant leaders. Their forces had been so greatly weakened by the

sickness which prevailed in Loudun, that re-enforcements were

absolutely necessary for them to keep the field against the Catholics.

De Pile had been sent some time before to gather together all the

troops that he could in Gascony, and a large body of reiters, under

the Duke of Dupont, was marching rapidly towards the Loire, in order

to join the Protestant army.

In the mean time, the Catholics had been re-enforced by bodies of

troops from every part of France, and were eager to fight the

Protestants before either De Pile or the duke could come up. The task,

therefore, of the Protestant leaders was a difficult one, namely, to

avoid a battle in the presence of a superior army; to guard the line

of the Charente, where all the bridges were in their own hands; and to

aid the junction of the Gascon forces from the south, at the same time

that they extended their line of operations to facilitate the junction

of the Germans.

"I trust," said Montgomery, "That the princes will decide upon

maintaining the Charente in preference to anything else. De Pile is

not one to suffer himself easily to be outwitted, and Stuart, who is

with him, will cut his way through a wall of solid iron, if need be.

Once having joined the Gascons, we shall be able to detach troops to

the Loire, without losing our command of the rivers, and, when the

Germans have joined, we can fight the enemy with the advantage of a

just cause, and no great disadvantage in point of numbers."

"Depend upon it," I said, after hearing this explanation, "since such

is our situation and that of the enemy, the Catholics I have seen are

thrown forward to gain possession of some place in the heart of our

position. But I will soon bring you farther intelligence if possible;

and, in the mean time, were it not better to send off at once a

messenger to the prince and the admiral, to inform them of what has

been already observed, and of the direction which the Catholics are

taking?"

Montgomery agreed immediately to do so, and in less than an hour after

I was once more in the saddle, and advancing with a force sufficient

for all that I proposed towards the villages in which I calculated the

enemy would lodge that night. I need not enter into all the

particulars of my expedition: suffice it to say, that about one

o'clock in the morning I found forty or fifty poor peasants in a barn

not far from the village, who had been driven out of their habitations

by the enemy, on account of adhering to the Protestant faith, and who

thought themselves not a little fortunate to have escaped with only a

few strokes from the staff of a lance to make them give up their

dwellings more quickly to the royal troops. I learned little from

them, however, except that the commander of the Catholics lodged in

one of the houses at the end of the village; and thinking that it

would be an excellent consummation if I could carry him off, I bent my

way thither, guided by one of the young labourers.

Before we came near, however, I caused my men either to strip off

their white cassocks altogether, or, when they were lined with any

other colour, to turn them inside out, in order, as far as possible,

to escape attention. I did not succeed, however, so well this time as

I had done before. There were men on watch at both sides of the house;

and though we approached somewhat near without being seen, we were at

length challenged in a loud voice. The sentry would not let the false

word I gave pass current, but instantly fired his arquebus; and, as

had been arranged before, while my arquebusiers remained drawn up in a

line to support us, I dismounted with my men-at-arms, and rushed

forward to attack the house. Moric Endem shot the unfortunate sentry

through the head with a pistol; the door and one of the windows were

burst open in a moment, and we poured into the lower rooms, in which

we found ten or twelve men who had been sleeping in their arms, on the

floor. Taken by surprise, and in confusion, their resistance was not

very great, but it was sufficient to give time for the commander

himself to make his escape out of one of the back windows in his

shirt.

We did not, however, discover this till afterward; for, by the

following circumstance, I was mistakenly led to imagine, for more than

an hour, that he had fallen into our hands. I had just cut down one

fellow who opposed my progress up the stairs, and had nearly reached

the top, when out of a room on the right hand rushed a gay-looking

youth, in a furred dressing-gown embroidered with gold. He bore a

taper in one hand and a sword in the other: but a pistol at his head,

with an order to surrender, rescue or no rescue, soon brought his

weapon into my hand; and, passing him down the stairs to those who

came behind, I entered the different rooms above, and, with Moric

Endem and two or three others, swept the table that I found there of a

number of papers and parchments, with cases for writing and other

things, which I doubted not would give us full information respecting

the object of the enemy's movement.

As I was looking at the title of one of these papers, a sharp fire

opened by the arquebusiers, whom I had left without, announced that

the enemy were prepared to make us pay for our intrusion; and,

clearing the house as fast as possible, I effected my retreat, though

I found the garden half full of Catholic troopers on foot. It was now,

however, that the stratagem of making my men quit or turn their

cassocks procured us great advantages which I had not foreseen. In

issuing forth form the house in some disarray, the enemy could not

tell whether each man was of their own party or not; and in the

confusion that followed--we being very certain of what we were to do,

and they quite uncertain--we forced our way through and regained our

horses, carrying with us the gentleman in the furred dressing-gown and

three other prisoners.

Of the men who accompanied me, two only were missing; one of my own

band, whom I had seen fall by a pistol shot in the head, and one of

the men-at-arms that Montgomery had given me, who, not so well

accustomed to such expeditions as we were, lingered behind and was

taken prisoner.

We now made the best of our way over the hill, the enemy mounting as

fast as horses could be brought out, and pursuing us; but I had ridden

over the ground several times before, and knew every inch of it, so

that they gained little but their labour, till at length I reached the

spot whence I had first discovered them on the preceding morning,

when, seeing by a strong glare in the sky, the cause of which I did

not at the moment discover, that I was followed by some thirty or

forty horse, I ordered my men-at-arms to wheel about and give them a

taste of our spear points. As there was no one to support them, they

did not make any great resistance, but were driven down the hill in a

very short space of time.

I pursued them no farther than the shoulder of the heights, whence I

could see the village which we had attacked, and, to my surprise,

beheld it all in flames. How it happened I do not know; our people

were inclined to believe that the Catholics themselves had set it on

fire, in their indignation at the peasants for having guided us

thither; but this opinion was evidently founded upon party animosity;

and I am inclined to believe that, in the confusion attending our

attack upon the farmhouse, some light must accidentally have dropped

and set fire to the building.

Hurrying on as fast as possible, we reached my quarters about five in

the morning, and then, for the first time, I had an opportunity of

speaking with, and showing some civility to my principal prisoner. He

was conducted up stairs to my own apartments by two of the soldiers,

while I remained for a minute or two below, to see my men properly

disposed of. On entering my room, I found him standing shivering by

the fire, and approached him, saying, "I fear, sir, you have had a

very cold ride?"

"I never had so cold or so disagreeable a one in my life," he replied.

"I was sure that such must be the case," I answered. "But we must try

to make you more comfortable as soon as possible.

"Pray, sir," he said, gazing at me somewhat superciliously from head

to foot, and sticking out from under his furred dressing-gown a bare

leg and a foot only covered with a slipper, "can you procure me such a

thing in your camp as a wooden leg? for I am quite sure that this

thing, which used to help me through the world, must be frozen of by

this time."

"No," I answered, "I do not know that we can do that; but, at all

events, I think we can bring some life into the one that you have;

and, if you will take my advice, you will get into a warm bed again as

fast as possible, drink as large a portion as you can swallow of hot

wine, and keep yourself warm for half an hour or so, by telling me who

you are, and what is the object of the expedition, whereof you were, I

suppose, the commander."

"Sir, you do me a great deal too much honour," said the young

gentleman. "However, as you are a very civil person, I will first take

possession of the bed you talk of, if you will show me where it is; I

will then drink the wine, if anybody will bring it to me; and, having

done that, hold myself bound to reply to any questions that you think

right to ask, that are not wrong for me to answer."

Calling to Andriot, I caused my prisoner to be placed in the room

which had been occupied by good La Tour, and the warm wine to be

procured for him, together with some spices and comfits; and, having

thus made him as comfortable as I could, I questioned him as to his

rank, station, &c. To my mortification, I now found that he was not

the commander; that the expedition was destined to attack Jarnac, and

was led by the celebrated Count de la Rivière Puitaillé. The young

gentleman whom I had taken proved to be one of the gay gallants of the

court, called Gersay, and my only consolation for having missed the

commander was the prospect of a large ransom for his friend and

companion. My men were more satisfied, indeed, than I was; for Moric

and the rest had stumbled upon various articles of value, and a

considerable sum of money, so that the prize to be divided was

considerable. Gersay's ransom was soon arranged and soon paid, and I

once more found my military chest overflowing.

In the mean time, the absence of the princes at Niort, though

absolutely necessary, in order to obtain money and to treat with the

Queen of England; was sadly detrimental to our military prospects.

Before full information of all that I had discovered could be conveyed

to the Prince de Condé, before the troops could be recalled from their

movements towards the Loire, or others marched to defend Jarnac, La

Rivière had made himself master of that place, thus occupying an

important point on the Charente, and breathing nothing but vengeance

for the attack upon the village, in retaliation for which he made

desperate excursions on every side.

The burning of the village, indeed, which must have been purely

accidental, led to consequences of a very terrible kind. The house

occupied by a Captain Lespinette had been the second or third which

took fire, and some of his effects had been burned therein; and, on

the first expedition which La Rivière intrusted to him, he vowed he

would retaliate upon the Protestants.

He accordingly attacked a village, swept away all that it contained,

and some women and children having taken refuge in one of the houses,

while their husbands and fathers escaped into the fields, he brutally,

we were assured, set fire to the place, and burned them to death

therein.

An awful retribution fell upon him. As soon as a sufficient force

could be collected, the admiral commanded the Marquis de Briquemont to

attack La Rivière in Jarnac. The town was taken by assault; but, as

the inhabitants were our own people, no outrages were committed. The

Catholics who surrendered received quarter, and many made their

escape; but Lespinette and his band took refuge in the old keep,

declaring they would hold it to the last: but, almost at the same

moment that they were making this declaration, the lower part took

fire. Unable to find any other means of escape, he and two of his

companions determined to leap from the loopholes, which were large.

But the corbels which hung over impeded them, and, in the effort to

force themselves through, their armour was so tightly jammed in the

stonework that no human power could remove them, and in this horrible

situation they were actually burned to death in their arms.

At this period, the situation of the Protestant army became every day

more and more critical. The Catholic army, nearly double in force that

which we could oppose to it, was now approaching nearer and nearer,

and interposing between us and the troops coming from Gascony, with

the purpose of forcing us to an immediate battle. The most important

points of the Charente were, it is true, in our hands; the admiral and

the Prince de Condé were once more at the head of their troops; and,

had their tactical skill been as well seconded by the zeal and

obedience of the officers under their command, we might have set the

enemy at defiance till sufficient re-enforcements had arrived to

enable us to fight them.

The Duke of Anjou was advancing daily, but still his progress was

delayed far more than might otherwise have been the case by the

continual skirmishes which D'Andelot and the Prince de Condé contrived

to treat him on his advance. Scarcely a day passed without some

hundreds, sometimes thousands, of our troops being thrown unexpectedly

upon some vulnerable point of the enemy's position; sometimes we

advanced absolutely into the quarters of the Duke of Montpensier, and

once we were actually in the lodgings of the Duke of Anjou himself.

On the latter occasion, under the command of Puiviaud, we encountered

close to Auville, where the duke had established his quarters, a body

of seventy or eighty gentlemen of the court, and obstinately

maintaining our ground for some time till we were re-enforced, large

bodies of men began to come up on either side, till it became

absolutely necessary for the Protestants to withdraw, lest the

skirmish should end in a general battle when neither party was

prepared.

Nothing, however, could stop the progress of the enemy; and, early in

March, the Duke of Anjou made himself master of Chateauneuf on the

Charente. The bridge, however, was in our possession, and we had

various small cars pushed across the river in different directions, in

order to guard against surprise. I myself, no longer acting as a mere

partisan, but attending implicitly to the orders I received as a

soldier, was stationed some little way in advance of Cognac, with

orders to obtain every information that I could regarding the enemy's

movements, and communicate them immediately to the admiral or the

Prince de Condé; and at three o'clock on the very day of my arrival, I

perceived a large body of the enemy marching down towards me. The

continual noise they made, the sounding of trumpets and beating of

drums, made me suspect at once that their appearance was a mere feint;

and, having ridden to a rising ground, which gave me a view over the

country beyond, I clearly perceived that they were followed by no

sufficient force to attempt the passage of the river at that point,

and sent immediate intelligence of what I had observed to the admiral,

in order to make sure that he was not deceived by any stratagem of the

enemy. Coligny sent me down thanks in return, telling me that he was

not deceived, and that, after maintaining my ground as well as I

could, I might come round to join the Count de Montgomery at the

village of Triac. The affair at Cognac lasted scarcely half an hour;

but it was past midnight before I could bring my men, fatigued with a

long march, to the quarters appointed me.

The house seemed pretty comfortable, and the stables for the horses

good, with room in a granary above for the greater part of the men,

and plenty of room in the house for the rest. Not a truss of straw,

however, was to be found; no forage of any kind; and while I was

endeavouring to obtain some in the village by sending hither and

thither, I saw a head put out from one of the up-stairs windows of the

house, and heard a voice call me by name. "Monsieur de Cerons,

Monsieur de Cerons," said the voice, "I give you good-evening; it is

long since we met."

The tones were not unfamiliar to my ear, but yet I could not recollect

where I had heard them; and I merely replied, "I will come up in a

minute, when I have seen the horses fed."

"_Morbleu!_" said Moric Endem, "you may think yourself lucky if you

get a straw a horse, seigneur. These are one of the nights, I take it,

which teach cavalry horses to be crib-biters, seeing that they can get

nothing else to bite."

"Moric," I said, "as we passed the day before yesterday, there was a

large farm I saw about a quarter of a mile out there to the right. The

man would neither say whether he was Catholic or Protestant, Chemille

told me. But I must have forage, whichever he is. The admiral says we

must have no plunder; so take ten men with you, go to his house, and

with your sword in one hand and this purse in the other, tell him you

come from the Seigneur de Cerons for the forage he wants for his

horses. Give him his choice of the gold or the steel, and bring back

the forage at all events."

"Bravo! bravo!" cried the voice from the window above, though I

certainly did not know I had been listened to; "justice and equity

both together Monsieur de Cerons;" and, leaving Moric to fulfil his

orders, which he did with pre-eminent success, I entered the house and

mounted the creaking staircase, which seemed as if two men at a time

would have brought it to the ground.

There were lights and a blazing fire on the right hand, and I entered

that room, when I saw before me a tall, powerful man sitting in the

window-seat, with a page busily taking off the various pieces of his

armour. He turned round his head as I entered, though bestowing no

very soft benediction on the page for pinching his leg with the

_genouillère_, and exclaimed, "Welcome, welcome, De Cerons; so I find

you, as I hoped to find you, changed from little David the shepherd's

boy into a mighty man of war. And who shall say what will come of it

next?"

The face that was turned towards me was that of my first military

friend and counsellor, Stuart; and with equal joy and gratitude I

grasped his hand, and welcomed him to the army.

"I have expected to see you long," I said, "but certainly did not

expect to see you this night, and in my own quarters."

"Why, it so happens," replied Stuart, "That they are mine too; for the

house, and yard, and stables were to be shared between us. Heaven

knows how we should have managed if I had brought on my band. But I

left the greater number of them some way back, for men and horses were

absolutely exhausted by hard riding and starvation. Though the prince

would very willingly have kept me at Jarnac, to sup with him to-night

and dine with him to-morrow, yet I came on with two or three of my

servants only, to see what was doing out here at the advance guard;

for I have a strange notion that we sha'n't be four-and-twenty hours

without a battle. I wanted to see you, too, and have got a good supper

ready for you, as there wants no food for men's mouths here, though

all the forage I could get was a bushel of oats and a handful of straw

for six horses."

I followed Stuart's example as soon as possible in disencumbering

myself of my armour, for I never had the casque off my head for more

than twenty hours, nor had anything passed my lips but a cup of cold

water during the whole of that time; so that the sight of a huge piece

of roasted pork, and a dish of pig's ears and feet strewed with

crayfish, was, I must acknowledge, one of the pleasantest prospects

that my eyes had lighted upon for some time. For my poor men's sakes,

too, I was glad to hear that provisions were to be had in abundance,

and, before I ate myself, I took care to send out the means to

purchase everything that was necessary, although my expeditions had

been so successful as to leave the purses of my troop better stored

than those of any other in the army.

During supper, Stuart and I talked over all that had happened to us

both since we parted in Bordeaux; and, although my first intercourse

with him had been but of a few hours' duration, yet, when we met, we

felt as if we had been old and intimate friends for many years. He

told me all that had befallen him to delay his journey to join the

army, the difficulty in getting his Scotch companions over from his

native country, or raising others fitted for his band: the necessity

which then presented itself of joining his forces to those of De Pile,

and of labouring with that commander to induce the Protestant noblemen

of Higher and Lower Gascony to come forward in arms, and risk

something for the common cause; then the obstacles which the Catholics

had thrown in his way, to prevent his junction with the Protestant

army; and he ended by telling me that he had at length been obliged to

leave De Pile behind with the greater part of the troops, and, with

only sixty helmets, to make his way on to join the Prince de Condé,

having a sort of presentiment in his mind, which, he said, had never

failed him hitherto, that a battle was on the eve of taking place

between the two contending parties.

To me he put a thousand questions concerning my state and prospects,

although it was evident enough that he had heard news of me from time

to time, and was not a little proud of his military neophyte. I told

him all the military part of my history, as I have told it here, and

met his approbation of all my proceedings.

In pursuing these subjects, however, the conversation naturally turned

to good Martin Vern, his journey to Bordeaux, and the redemption of my

dagger; and, as soon as the subject was mentioned, he exclaimed, "Oh!

by-the-way, it is true I did what was, perhaps, not very justifiable

on my part, and made good Solomon Ahar do what was not quite right

upon his. But, having seen how much you regretted the loss of your

weapon; and also having received an unexpected sum, which gave me a

few crowns to spare, I went and insisted upon redeeming it, thinking

that in a day or two I should join you. I have been forced to wander

far enough since," he continued, "but your dagger is quite safe, and

with my baggage at Jarnac. One thing, however, I must tell you of,

which happened in the redemption of it, and which made me very glad

that I had got it out of the Jew's hands, who has now moved from

Bordeaux to Paris, as I dare say you have heard."

"No," I replied, "I did not hear of his removal. But I can easily

conceive that he was not much to your taste. Yet tell me, what was

this circumstance which made you glad?"

"Doubtless you know the fact yourself already," replied Stuart, "but I

discovered it from the Jew. When, much against his will, I had driven

him to give it up, good Solomon said, 'Ha! do you know it is hollow,

Seigneur Stuart?' And he then showed me, by weighing it against

another dagger, with a smaller hilt than it had, that the haft is

hollow, and, through a hole where one of the old jewels had fallen

out, we clearly saw some folded parchment within. It may be a matter

of some consequence, or of none to you, for aught I know. Were you

aware of the fact?"

I replied in the negative; and, after some farther conversation on the

subject, it was determined that, if military operations did not

prevent us, we should ride together to Jarnac on the following

morning, where I should redeem my dagger, and ascertain what the hilt

contained.

After that we separated, Stuart retiring to his bed and I to mine; and

though for the last five or six days I had borne up with scarcely any

rest or repose, I now fell into a profound and heavy slumber, still,

motionless, dreamless, more like death itself than sleep.

END OF VOL. I.

THE

M A N-A T-A R M S;

OR,

HENRY DE CERONS.

A ROMANCE.

BY G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ.,

AUTHOR OF

"DARNLEY," "DE L'ORME," "CHARLES TYRRELL," "HENRY OF

GUISE," "KING'S HIGHWAY," &c., &c.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. II.

NEW YORK:

HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,

FRANKLIN SQUARE.

1855.

HENRY DE CERONS.

----------------

CHAPTER I.

The day had not far advanced, when some one, shaking me by the arm,

roused me from my sleep, and, looking up, I found Stuart already up

and fully armed.

"Come," he said, "De Cerons, come, you will be called a sluggard. I

have just had a message from the admiral, who is at Bassac, and my

people have come on there with the baggage. The same messenger brings

a message to you, begging you to come and report more fully what took

place yesterday at Cognac. It would seem that intelligence has been

received from that side which leads to some apprehension."

I shook my head. "They will make no attempt there," I replied.

"However, I will be up and out in a moment."

"I will see your horses ready," replied Stuart; and, ere they were

well prepared, I was myself down in the courtyard.

Leaving some brief orders for Moric Endem, who did not appear, I rode

away with my companion, followed by his attendants and some four or

five of my own men. The light was still gray in the dull March

morning, but everything was quite quiet and still, and nothing, as we

passed along, would have given to any eye the slightest indication of

warring armies in the immediate neighbourhood, or of the approach of a

speedy and sanguinary conflict. We went on, talking of the position

and situation of the armies, and Stuart seemed perfectly confident,

from what he had heard the night before, that any attempt of the enemy

to pass the Charente at Chateauneuf would be frustrated in a moment.

"There is Soubise," he said, "and Montgomery, and La Loue, with plenty

of forces to guard the passage, at all events, till the rest of the

army could come up; and they dare not attempt it before the force

which the admiral can bring into the field."

Scarcely, however, were the words out of his mouth, when a trooper at

full gallop overtook us. It proved to be one of my own people, who

came on waving his hand for us to stop, and exclaimed, the moment that

he came up, "In God's name, return, seigneur! The enemy have passed

the river by the bridge and a bridge of boats. I have myself seen ten

or twelve cornets of horse, with the great blue standard among them.

The whole vanguard has passed already, I am sure; and there is a

bridge of boats built just below the other bridge."

"I fear this is Some negligence on La Loue's part," I said, turning to

Stuart; "I have always remarked that he is the most negligent of

commanders. I will go back, but I fear we shall have to fight, and we

are in no condition to do it. For Heaven's sake, Stuart, ride on, and

let the admiral know."

These were all the words that were spoken; and Stuart, waving his

hand, galloped off, while I hurried back as fast as possible to the

village. Half a dozen messengers, going at full speed towards the

quarters of the admiral and the Prince de Condé, met me before I

reached Triac, but passed without speaking; and just before my

quarters I found Moric Endem, with my own troop and the horse

arquebusiers, drawn up in order to march. Without a moment's delay we

hurried out from the village, and the next moment the whole scene of

the commencing battle was beneath our eyes.

The beautiful meadows, which there sweep down to the bank of the

river, were now filled with the royal troops in all the splendid array

of war: cornets, and standards, and waving plumes, and gay-coloured

cassocks lined the whole side of the river, while over the bridge of

Chateauneuf, and over a bridge of boats constructed during the night,

the rear guard of the Catholic army was passing, with cymbal, and

trumpet, and drum, the clang of which, borne by the wind, reached the

hill where I stood.

Some half a mile before the great body of the Catholics were a number

of squadrons of horse, charging, with levelled lances, two or three

small bands of Huguenots, who, though contending with them gallantly,

were evidently contending in vain. We could see the lances shivered

and the horses go over, but still the Protestant cavalry was driven

back towards a large pond confined within some raised causeways, and a

rivulet which meandered in silver brightness through the meadows at

the foot of the hill. Other small bodies of Protestant horse were seen

coming up at full speed to the aid of their companions; but more

effectual assistance appeared at that moment; for, drawing out from

between the walls of a little hamlet, I perceived four or five

companies of infantry, which I immediately knew to be that gallant and

determined body, Puyviault's arquebusiers, who advanced rapidly

towards the causeway of the tank, and opened a sharp fire upon the

advancing squadrons of the Catholic cavalry.

This was all seen as we rode on down the hill; but, the moment after,

the sound of a trumpet on the right called my attention in that

direction, and I saw a small party of our own horse, perhaps

consisting of a hundred and fifty or two hundred men, galloping down

in the same direction as myself. Recognising at their head one whose

skill and talents were already remarkable, now celebrated as La Noue,

together with Asier and La Loue, whose vigour and determination, in

all moments of actual conflict, seldom failed to inspire their

soldiers to the greatest efforts, I made what speed I could to join

them, and was hailed gladly, though there was no pausing to speak or

to draw a rein.

On we galloped, four a breast, down the road till we had passed some

hedges that intersected the slope of the hill, and then, spreading

out, charged the enemy's cavalry just as they were passing the

causeway on the right of the tank. Puyviault at the same moment

renewed his fire upon the enemy, and we drove them back in great

confusion for two or three hundred yards.

As all that we could hope to do, however, was so long to delay the

enemy in the meadows by the river as to enable the admiral and the

Prince de Condé to gain a good position on the heights, La Noue gave

the order to wheel, and keep upon the same line with the infantry;

but, on looking round, we saw that Puyviault, attacked on the left

hand, had been forced to retreat, and that Martigue, with his

fire-eating cavalry, had passed round on the other side of the tank,

and was already on our flank.

We had no time for preparation; the Catholics were upon us with a

rapidity and an energy worthy of admiration; Martigue was within ten

paces of me when I turned my horse; and, calling out, "Ha, the cornet!

the cornet! _à moi, à moi_, Monsieur de Cerons!" he spurred on upon

me.

I met him as best I might, but our little band was broken by their

impetuous charge in every direction: La Noue and the rest were making

the best of their way back towards the infantry of Puyviault, and the

men following by twos and threes, as they could disentangle

themselves; and, after several sharp blows, I found that I must either

get away from Martigue or suffer myself to be taken, and therefore,

drawing a pistol from the holster, I shot his horse in the throat, and

the animal went down at once.

"That is not fair!" he cried, as the horse fell with him.

"I had no other resource," shouted I, as I galloped on. "You see I am

left alone."

Thus saying, I made my way back to the rest as fast as I could, and

found our little cavalry once more rallied and supporting Puyviault,

who, with admirable skill and determination, was keeping the enemy at

bay as long as possible, maintaining every little hedge and every

little wall with his arquebusiers, taking advantage of each little

rise and fall of the ground, and fighting every step as he slowly

retreated towards the village where I had slept the preceding night.

To him, I cannot help saying, more than to any one else, is to be

attributed that the battle did not prove more disastrous to the

Protestants than it ultimately did.

In the mean time La Noue exclaimed to me, "Retreat into the village,

De Cerons, as fast as possible, and maintain yourself in it as long as

you can, for there is Martigue dashing up towards it on the right, and

will cut us off if he is not prevented."

Taking the shorter road, I was there before the Catholic leader, and

received him at the entrance of the principal road or street, if I may

so call it, with a charge which, though it could not be long

sustained, drove him back for some way, and enabled La Noue and the

rest to retire in good order.

Asier came to my assistance in a moment or two after, exclaiming in a

gay tone, "Now, Fortune's favourite, let us see how long you and I, De

Cerons, can keep out the enemy!"

"Not long, Asier," I replied, "I fear; both your numbers and mine are

somewhat thinned since the beginning of this morning; and see, there

are six more cornets coming up the hill to join Martigue. Ha, Moric!"

I continued, as I turned round to look at the numbers of my men, "I

thought you were gone, my poor fellow. Are there any more coming up?"

"Two will be here in a minute, seigneur," replied Moric; "I sent them

to see the valets, and horse-boys, and baggage out at the other end of

the town. Ah, Master Martigue," he exclaimed, seeing that the enemy

had paused for a single instant, and ridden round a little to the

right, "I've stopped that gap for you. There's a road between two

houses there," he said, "but I have upset a wagon across it."

Good Moric's precaution, however, did not avail us for long. Martigue

himself again charged us in front; and though the narrowness of the

road enabled us to stand against him firmly, yet we saw that a party

of his men were busy in removing the wagon which had been overturned;

and, after protracting the resistance as long as possible, we effected

our retreat only just as the enemy were pouring in upon our flank.

Puyviault, however, was by this time safe; and as we issued forth from

the other side of the village and mingled with the foremost of the

enemy, the glad sight appeared of D'Andelot coming up at the head of a

considerable body of horse, while a long hedge of spears was seen

rising over the slope, and giving notice that the admiral or the

Prince de Condé would be in the field in a few minutes.

The enemy perceived this at the same moment that we did, and pursued

no farther; Martigue hastening to strengthen himself in the village,

in order to maintain it, if possible, till the royal troops came up.

D'Andelot halted his men for a moment, in order not to charge friends

and enemies together, and welcomed us, as we rode up, with nothing but

courage and confidence in his tone, exclaiming, "Ah, brave Asier! ah,

De Cerons! Gallantly done, gentlemen; gallantly done! Rally your men,

and let us at them again! Now each man do as he sees me do!" And, as

soon as we were in line, he spurred on again upon the village.

Martigue, confident in his numbers and his courage, had by this time

drawn out a part of his cavalry beyond the houses, and we spurred

forward upon them with a determination equal to their own. I was at

the distance of about twenty paces from D'Andelot, who had no lance;

but I saw him gallop up to a gay-looking cavalier opposite to him,

armed from head to foot; and, putting past his spear, he struck him

under the visor with the gauntlet of his left hand, which at the same

time held his reins, and at that single blow dashed up the covering of

his enemy's face; at the very same moment, with his right, he pointed

a pistol under his opponent's helmet and fired. The man fell dead from

his horse, and D'Andelot passed on at once through the line.[3]

Though we certainly did not follow D'Andelot's order in doing as he

did, yet we did our best. Martigue's troops were driven again into the

village, the streets of which became a terrible slaughter-house. In a

few minutes the admiral himself, with a large body of cavalry, came up

to support us, and the Catholics were driven out at the other side,

and over the hill for nearly half a mile.

Their operations had all been well-arranged, however. By the time we

had proceeded thus far, we were suddenly assailed by a tremendous

discharge of firearms; and Martigue, finding himself supported by the

Count de Brissac, with a fresh body of cavalry and sixteen hundred

arquebusiers, horse and foot, resumed the offensive, while we were

driven back in considerable confusion, from the incessant and

well-directed fire kept up upon us by what were called the old bands

of Brissac.

The position that we had attained, however, though we had gained it

but for a moment, showed us the whole Royalist army on this side of

the river, the Duc de Montpensier advancing up the slope with at least

ten thousand men, and the division of the Duke of Anjou following in

fine order towards the tank which I have before mentioned.

After retreating for about three or four hundred yards, the troops got

into somewhat better order, and the admiral took care to seize the

opportunity of restoring confidence by wheeling with a small force as

if to charge Martigue. He did not do so, however; but, after looking

round him for a moment, seeking, it would seem, some one he could

trust, he beckoned me up to him, and said in a low tone, "Monsieur de

Cerons, you fear nothing, I think."

"I trust not, sir," I replied.

"The battle must be general, I imagine," he said; "there is no

avoiding it. I wish some one to ride towards Jarnac to the Prince de

Condé, without the loss of a moment or a step of ground, to tell him

to bring up the main body of the troops, and charge in order to

extricate his vanguard. We will maintain the ground till he comes. The

straight road runs along the whole line of those arquebusiers; whoever

undertakes the task must endure their fire. Will you go? Take three

men with you if you do."

I merely bowed my head in reply, spoke a word or two to Moric Endem,

leaving him in the command of my surviving men, and, accompanied by

Andriot and two troopers, galloped off as hard as I could go towards

Jarnac. Either the arquebusiers for some time did not see me, or

mistook me for some of their own people as I came galloping rapidly

towards them, for they suffered me to pass half along the line without

firing a shot at me. There, however, they seemed to discover their

mistake, and, at the distance of not more than a hundred yards, opened

upon me one of the most tremendous fires that I ever remember to have

seen. Poor Andriot was down in a moment; but there was no possibility

of stopping, and on I went at the full gallop.

About thirty or forty yards farther, a ball struck my cuirass, but

glanced off without entering, and a second passed through the crest of

my casque. Two or three went through the cassock I wore above my arms,

and one ball just grazed the lower part of my bridle-hand sufficiently

to deluge my glove in blood. It then struck the pommel of the saddle

and bounded off. I was now within twenty yards of the end of the line;

but, ere I reached it, another of my men was knocked off his horse;

and if the arquebusiers had been wise enough to fire at the chargers

instead of the riders, not one of us would have escaped to bear the

admiral's message to the Prince de Condé. The last shot that was

received was in my left shoulder; but it was of no importance, and did

not even disable my arm.

I now continued my course in safety, but without relaxing my speed,

and opened the visor of my casque both to get some air and to see more

distinctly whether we were followed. Such was not the case, however;

and at the top of the hill I saw the squadrons of the admiral, and

could perceive the group in which he stood watching my course, perhaps

with some anxiety. At the distance of about two miles I heard the

sound of some trumpets behind a little wood in advance, and going on

at the same quick pace, I came, in a moment after, upon some thirty or

forty horsemen, covered with white cassocks, and bearing the cornet of

the Prince de Soubise.

"Where is the Prince de Condé?" I demanded "Where is the prince? I

bear him a message from the admiral."

"He is coming up that narrow road," replied one of the gentlemen.

"Having heard firing, we supposed that some affair was taking place,

and are now marching up towards Triac."

"The whole van are engaged," I replied; and, without more words, rode

on and met the prince at the head of three or four hundred horse,

almost all gentlemen of high quality, and distinguished in arms. The

prince was speaking gayly; and, the moment he saw me, he exclaimed,

"Ah, De Cerons! what news do you bear? So the enemy has crossed the

river, we hear. But, good heavens, your surcoat is pierced in twenty

places, and you are bleeding from the hand and shoulder."

"That is nothing, my lord," I replied. "The enemy have passed the

river, the vanguard has been engaged these two hours, and the admiral

has sent me to say to your highness that a general battle is

inevitable, and to beg you to charge in order to disentangle the

advance."

"Instantly," replied the prince, his bright eye flashing with a light

which I never saw anywhere but in them. "Martinet, you ride back

instantly, and hurry the advance of the main battle. Chouppes, ride on

with Languilliers to Soubise, and you three, with your men, gallop as

fast as you can towards Triac, to clear the ground a little while we

come up. De Cerons, you stay with me, as you have seen all that is

passing, and can guide us well. Now on, my men!" And, putting the

whole troop into a quicker pace, he led the way, till we came out half

way down the hill up which the Royalist army had been advancing when I

left the field.

The aspect of everything, however, was now very much changed; the

admiral had retreated beyond Triac; Brissac occupied the village;

Martigue had taken ground to the right thereof; the Duke of

Montpensier was at the top of the rise, and the main body of the

Catholics, under the Duke of Anjou, occupied the rest of the ground

towards Chateauneuf.

The gallant Puyviault, however, and his men, stretching out and

menacing the flank of Martigue's troops, afforded us the means of

joining our line to that of the admiral; and had the whole of the

Prince de Condé's division been upon the field, we might still,

perhaps, have gained the day. Such not being the case, and, by one

accident or another, the prince having received but tardy information

of what was taking place, the situation of the admiral seemed to all

of us who were on the lower ground more perilous than it really was.

Condé halted for a moment, as if to consider and to communicate with

the admiral; and, had it not been for the arrival at that instant of a

small body of German Protestants who were with the army, in all

probability such counsels would have been held as would have prevented

the fatal results of that day's field. Condé, however, saw our

auxiliaries arrive with joy and satisfaction; not that he hoped to

save the battle by the rash, and desperate conduct he was prepared to

pursue, but he thought that, at all events, he should be enabled to

disentangle the troops of the admiral by a strong diversion in his

favour; and, the moment that the arrival of the Germans was known, I

heard him call loudly for his casque.

At this time, though we were within shot of the arquebusiers, and a

ball or two fell every now and then among us, he had nothing on his

head but a small cap of crimson velvet. The page who bore his helmet,

however, came but slowly; the different officers who were round about

pressed up eagerly towards the prince; the horses were furious and

eager to proceed; and Condé himself, having one arm in a sling, from

an accident he had met with, restrained his own charger with

difficulty from dashing forward into the midst of the enemy's ranks.

At length the page brought up the casque, and one or two persons were

assisting him to place it on his head: his standard had been carried

forward, bearing, written in letters of gold, "_Doux le peril pour

Christ et le pais!_" the Count of Rochefoucault was mounting a fresh

horse, to accompany him into the _mêlée_; and, turning round towards

me, the prince was asking, "Know you, De Cerons, whose cornets of

horse those are upon the hill?" when, in a moment, I saw the charger

that La Rochefoucault was about to mount lash out with both his feet

towards the prince, whose horse seemed to stagger with the blow it

received.

The velvet cap he had in his hand dropped to the ground, but that was

the only expression (if it may be so called) of pain which escaped

him. To my horror and astonishment, however, on approaching, I saw

that the horse had broken his leg, and that the bone was absolutely

protruding through the thick leather boot.

Exclamations of grief and distress burst from the lips of all around:

but the prince waved his hand, exclaiming, "Silence!" And, a moment

after, he added, "Behold, you true nobles of France, that which has

occurred! Follow me to finish well what our brave friends have already

so well begun! and remember this day, as you fight, in what state

Louis of Bourbon leads you to the charge, 'for Christ and for his

country!'"

As he spoke he pulled down the visor of his helmet, bent his head over

his saddle-bow, gave the rein to his horse, and dashed like fury upon

the flank of the Duke of Anjou's division. There was an immense body

of men-at-arms before us, amounting, it is said, in all, to two

thousand men; and the moment we began the charge, two regiments of

reiters, amounting to two thousand five hundred men, and eight hundred

lancers, with a small body of horse arquebusiers, swept round and

hemmed us in; and yet it is extraordinary what that charge of the

Prince de Condé did. There was not one man of us that hour who then

spurred on his horse, and did not believe that his life was at a

close, and he must sell the remnant dearly.

The light-horse which were in front gave way before us in a moment;

the Duke of Guise and his men-at-arms were driven back upon La

Valette; the regiments, of Chravigny and Nevers were cast into

confusion; and, to use the words of another eyewitness, "In brief, the

prince and his troop seemed like a thunderbolt."

But all that we could do was over in ten minutes. The regiment of the

young Prince d'Auvergne came forward to support the rest, and in a

gallant charge separated our small troop into parties: his father, the

Duke of Montpensier, wheeled two regiments upon us to support his son;

Martigue came down from the hill to have a share in our destruction,

and, separated one from the other, we each fought with desperation

against that party of the adversary which happened to be nearest to

us. I was cutting my way on, attending to little else, and dealing the

best blows I could with my heavy sword, when I suddenly received a

pistol-ball in my right arm, which made it drop powerless by my side.

An instant after, before any one could take advantage of my situation,

my horse was killed under me, and fell at once to the ground, jamming

firmly my right leg between the saddle and the earth, so that it was

impossible for me to extricate myself.

The Catholic men-at-arms who were nearest to me, apparently conceived

that I was myself killed, and one of them passed over me; but I was

not only uninjured, except from the wounds I have mentioned, but was

also painfully sensible of all the horrors that were passing around

me. It is utterly impossible to give anything like the slightest idea

of the scene that took place before my eyes. Sometimes I was left

almost totally alone, beholding nothing but clouds of dust, and dim,

uncertain figures whirling hither and thither; in another instant,

one, two, three, perhaps fifty or sixty of the combatants, were close

about me, and their horses nearly treading upon me at every instant.

Thrice, indeed, they did strike me with their hoofs, but my armour

luckily protected me.

At length I saw a charger all bloody, mounted by one whose aspect I

knew full well. He was then at about twenty yards from me, and was

riding rapidly up the hill where the ground was somewhat more clear.

But at that very instant, two cavaliers, bearing red crosses on their

shoulders, galloped fiercely forward upon him; and I saw that, though

the horse exerted his utmost force to obey his rider's will, and

though the rider urged him still on with eager speed, yet the gallant

beast, bleeding from more than one wound, wavered as it struggled on,

and the rider, with his head bent low, could scarcely keep himself in

the saddle.

The other two, fresh and apparently unhurt, were up with him in a

moment; and seeing that it was in vain to contend, with not a friend

near him, without power to resist, without strength either in himself

or in his horse to fly, Condé gave his left-hand gauntlet to one of

those who approached him, and at the very same moment his horse

stumbled and fell beneath him. As he lay, I saw him raise the visor of

his helmet, and show his face to the gentleman to whom he had

surrendered, whose name I afterward found was Argence.

The moment he saw the face of the prince, Argence sprang from his

horse and attempted to aid Condé in rising; but then, seeing the state

of his leg, he bore rather than assisted him to the foot of a small

hawthorn-tree, and placed his back against the bank that supported it.

This was nearer to me than before, and the next instant two or three

other gentlemen came up, and dismounting beside the captive prince,

were talking to him in a quiet tone, when Montesquieu, whom I had seen

several times before, and knew for his brutality, rode slowly up, and

looked down upon me as I lay. My visor being down, he could not see

whether I was dead or alive; and I remained quite still, though I held

tight the pistol which I had drawn from my saddle-bow, determined not

to surrender to him, but to shoot him with my left hand if he molested

me. I believe he was looking for some unarmed point to stab me with

his sword, in order to ascertain whether I was living or dead; but,

not finding any, he had taken his pistol in his hand, as if to shoot

me, in order to make all sure.

At that very instant, however, one of the others rode up from the

hawthorn-tree, saying, "They have taken the Prince de Condé, there,

Montesquieu."

"Taken!" exclaimed the brute, in a furious tone. "Kill him! kill

him!--_Mortbleu!_" and, dashing forward, he levelled his pistol at the

head of the unfortunate prince, and fired. Condé's head first fell

back up against the bank, and then, rolling over with a convulsive

motion, he fell dead at the feet of Argence, who turned angrily upon

Montesquieu, and seemed to reproach him with what he had done.

After that I saw no more of them, for a company of horse came sweeping

along between me and the spot at a somewhat slow pace, though Martigue

was at their head. I knew his character well; though fierce, bold, and

courageous as a lion, he was noble and generous-minded too; and as he

passed within about ten paces of me, I called loudly upon his name. He

did not hear me himself, but a young officer who was behind exclaimed,

looking round, "Who calls Monsieur de Martigue?"

"It is I," I cried, lifting up my left hand, "I, a gentleman and a

knight, wish to speak with him."

The young officer called his commander's attention, who turned his

horse and rode up to me. "Who are you, and what do you want?" he said,

looking down upon me without dismounting.

"I am De Cerons," I replied; "and, of all men in the army, wish to

surrender to you;" and at the same time I raised my visor.

"Ah, you young tiger!" he cried, "have I got you. If I did right, I

believe I should drop a lance into you. But, however, I suppose that

must not be, and so I will give you some supper instead; for you have

lost the day, young man, as I suppose you know."

"But too well," I replied, sadly; and Martigue, turning to some of

those who followed, said, "There, help him up, and take care of him.

Look to his wounds, too; for it is a pity that any one who has gone

through a day like this should die at the end of it."

Thus saying, he rode on and left me.

CHAPTER II.

A page, a soldier, and one of the valets who were following Martigue

through the field, disentangled me from my horse, and raised me with

some care and kindness from the ground. For some time I could scarcely

walk, from the stiffness and bruises consequent upon the horse falling

upon my leg and thigh. I made a great effort to do so, however, and

the men who accompanied me asked me if I were hurt in the leg. I

replied I was not; and, being soon stripped of my armour, I was

enabled to move more easily. My right arm, however, still continued

powerless; and the men who had me in charge led me away, according to

Martigue's orders, to search for a surgeon. The only men of skill, it

seems, who accompanied the Catholic army, were to be found with the

division of the Duke of Anjou, and in seeking them we passed through

several bodies of men that were advancing rapidly towards Jarnac. All,

however, was now passing quietly; the battle was over, the Protestant

army in full flight, the victory secured, and I felt not the slightest

apprehension that either insult or injury would be offered to any fair

combatant, wounded and a prisoner. Thus passing on with Martigue's

people, without a word being said to me, I came near a gallant body of

cavaliers, brilliantly armed, and equipped with the finest horses in

the field, and followed by another glittering band of evidently picked

men. There might be twenty or thirty gentlemen in advance and some

four hundred behind; and I saw there the Duke of Montpensier, and the

Prince d'Auvergne his son.

They were no longer, however, occupying the first rank; for about half

a yard before either of them rode a young man, in fact, scarcely more

than a boy, for he did not yet seem twenty years of age. His arms were

covered with a rich surcoat, and on one side of his horse, a page on

foot carried his casque, while another bore a lance on the other side.

Everything about his person and his charger was glittering and

splendid, and the _fleur-de-lis_, which were profusely scattered over

all his accoutrements, at once marked him as the Duke of Anjou.

The little party by which I was led along made way instantly for the

others to pass, and I took no notice of the prince's countenance till

some one called us up before him. I then lifted my eyes, and

considered him attentively while he spoke to Martigue's page, whom he

seemed to have recognised. He was certainly handsome, and there was

something commanding in his figure and deportment; but there was a

sinister expression about his countenance which was not pleasant, and

a peculiarity in his features which, in the course of my whole life, I

have only seen in two other men besides himself. It was, that, as long

as he remained grave and serious, though somewhat stern, the

expression was not so bad; but, the moment that he smiled, it made

one's blood run cold. After speaking two words to the page, he turned

to me, saying sternly, "Do you know whether the Prince de Condé has

escaped from the field?"

"Only by death, sir," I replied.

"Why," answered the duke, "I saw his great white standard myself, with

some thirty or forty men, fly across the upland twenty minutes ago."

"The prince, sir," I said, "is dead, depend upon it. I, with my own

eyes, saw him murdered."

"Murdered!" exclaimed the Duke of Anjou, with that same sort of

sinister smile coming over his face. "What call you murder, sweet

friend, in such a field as this?"

"Shooting a man, sir," I replied, "after he has been received to

quarter, and surrendered to honourable gentlemen."

"It may be justice, not murder, sir," replied the duke, frowning upon

me. "And pray who are you, who are so choice in your expressions!"

"My name, sir," I replied, "is De Cerons; and I, too, am a prisoner."

"Ha!" cried the duke; "The most insolent varlet in the camp of the

rebels. We have heard of your doings."

Though I knew it might cost me my life, I could not restrain myself,

and I replied, "Not a varlet, sir, but a knight and a French

gentleman!"

"Take him away, and--" cried the duke; but, before he could finish his

sentence, which probably was intended to have been a command to treat

me in the same way as the Prince de Condé, the Duke of Montpensier

urged his horse forward, and spoke a word or two to the duke in a low

tone.

"Take him away!" repeated the duke, after listening for a moment. "Put

him with that Scotch marauder Stuart, and bring them before me after

supper to-night. Yet stay," he continued. "Where, think you, is the

Prince de Condé! I would fain see him with my own eyes."

"If you go straight towards yon tree," I replied, pointing with my

hand, "you will find his body under the bank, unless they have removed

it."

"Go you, Magnac, and see," said the duke. "I will remain here. There

is your man Constureau coming up, Montpensier. He knows the prince,

let him go with Magnac. Stand there, sir: we shall soon see whether

you speak truth or falsehood."

I made no reply, and the Baron de Magnac and another gentleman rode on

to see if they could discover the body of the unfortunate Prince de

Condé. While they were gone, the deepest stillness pervaded the whole

scene. There was a sort of awful expectation about those who knew not

whether I had spoken truth or not, which kept all silent; and it was

evident that the Duke of Anjou himself, though he strove to appear

perfectly calm and unmoved, concealed various emotions under the stern

and harsh aspect which he assumed He spoke not either, but remained

gazing forward in the direction which his messengers had taken, though

the number of persons scattered about in different directions, and the

bodies of horse and foot moving to and fro, prevented his

distinguishing them after they had gone a hundred yards.

At length, however, we saw a number of people coming forward in an

irregular mass, with something carried apparently in the midst of

them, and, as they approached the Duke of Anjou, one of the most

painful and horrible sights that I ever beheld was exposed to view.

Stripped of his armour, and even of the buff coat which he had worn

underneath, with his shirt and person dabbled with blood and dirt, was

the body of the unfortunate Prince de Condé cast across an ass, with

the head hanging down on one side and the feet on the other. His hair,

which was long and very beautiful, fell in glossy curls towards the

ground; but, from the point of the locks near the face, the blood,

still streaming from his death-wound, dropped slowly as they bore him

along upon the dusty ground, and made a small pool when the body

stopped before the feet of the Duke of Anjou's horse. However much he

might be changed since I had seen him, I knew the body at once, by the

lace and the violet-coloured ribands which tied the sleeves of his

shirt, which I had remarked particularly while he was putting on his

casque at the moment that the horse had kicked him.

"Are you sure that is he?" said the Duke of Anjou. "Lift up his head,

Magnac; one cannot see his face."

The Baron de Magnac twined his fingers in his hair and lifted up his

face, exposing the ghastly wound from which he died, and which had so

terribly disfigured him, that, what with blood and dirt, and the black

smoke of the pistol, his features could hardly be recognised by any

one. When I thought of that same countenance, as I had seen it but a

few weeks before, smiling with gay and kindly feelings as he laid the

blade of knighthood on my shoulder, and compared it with the dark,

mutilated object before me, I myself could scarcely have told that it

was the same, had it not been for the other marks I have mentioned.

"Some one bring water from the stream," cried the Duke of Anjou. "We

must wash his face and see."

The water was soon brought in a morion; and, when the blood and dirt

were washed away, there was no difficulty in recognising the features

of the unfortunate prince.

"Get a sheet from some of the farmhouses," cried the Duke of Anjou,

"and carry the body on to Jarnac. You have told the truth, sir," he

added, turning to me. "Now get you gone. Do with him as I bade you.

Put him with the Scotchman, and bring him up this night."

Thus saying, he rode on himself, and I was conducted to the rear,

where a surgeon dressed my wounds, and, finding my right arm broken,

set it as best he might. They then led me for about two miles on the

road to Jarnac, when they brought me to a farmhouse, where they placed

me in a small room with several other prisoners, among whom I found La

Noue and the Prince de Soubise, but not Stuart.

All, as well might be supposed, were deeply depressed, but that did

not prevent a great deal of conversation from taking place; and there

were fewer lamentations over our defeat itself than over the

negligence of those who had occasioned it, by suffering the enemy to

pass the river. La Loue, whose turn it had been to guard the bridge of

Chateauneuf, was very much blamed; and certain it is, that, even if

the enemy had forced the passage, the delay which that would have

occasioned might have given us a chance of victory; for it was

afterward ascertained that not one sixth part of the Protestant

cavalry, and not one tenth of the Protestant infantry, arrived within

a league of the field of battle till the whole was over. The truth is,

that not above four thousand men were ever, at one time, engaged upon

our part.

The discussion of these events had been going on for some time before

I was brought in, and I soon found that the worst news of the whole,

the death of the Prince de Condé, was still unknown among the leaders

taken. When I told them the fact, however, I could scarcely get them

to believe it, so horrible and improbable seemed the action that

Montesquieu had committed. If I had told them that he had fallen by

some chance blow or shot in fair fight, they would have given me

credit at once; but I found them even more incredulous than the

Catholics had been; and Soubise insisted that I must have made a

mistake in the person, for Argence would never have suffered

Montesquieu to kill a prince of the blood royal in his hands.

About four o'clock the rest of the prisoners were removed and marched

on towards Jarnac, but I was ordered to remain, and I continued in the

room of the farm for about a quarter of an hour, suffering intense

torture from the wound in my right arm, and giving myself up, in

solitude, to every sad and gloomy thought and expectation that it was

possible for imagination to conjure up.

At the end of that time the door of the room again opened, and Stuart

was brought in. But oh, how changed he now appeared from the preceding

night! He was wounded in two or three places, though not dangerously

in any; yet the loss of blood had turned him very pale, and he walked

with difficulty. But it was not so much in his colour or his gait that

the change was remarkable; it was in the deep, profound melancholy

that had fallen upon him.

"I grieve to meet you here, Stuart," I said, shaking him by the hand.

"And so I grieve for you, De Cerons," replied he. "I wish it had been

God's will, De Cerons, that I had died three hours ago; but the

villains would not kill me, though I refused them quarter and asked

none myself. They knew better: they knew better."

"But, good God!" I said, "They will never think of butchering their

prisoners now?"

"You do not know Henry of Anjou," replied Stuart. "But I know very

well, De Cerons, that I have not long to live. Whether I speak him

fair or not, there are things to be remembered which he will not

forget. But, on your part, take my advice; if you see him, speak him

fair, and perhaps you may save your life thereby. My day is done, De

Cerons;" and, seating himself by the table, he leaned his brow upon

his hand, and fell into deep thought.

It length he started up again, saying, "If you should live and get

free, De Cerons, remember the dagger. It is with my baggage, which I

trust is safe; for these Catholic tigers, it is evident, have won but

a fruitless victory. Yet my people, perhaps, may not give it up. Stay;

if we can get materials for writing, I will make an acknowledgment

that it is yours." And, rising, he knocked hard at the door, which was

locked. One of the soldiers immediately came; but it was some time

before Stuart could procure what he wanted. At length, however, it

came; and in haste, but with great precision, he wrote down the

acknowledgment and gave it to me.

He had scarcely done so when we were ordered to march on towards

Jarnac; and, under a small guard of soldiers, set out on foot for that

place, which we reached shortly after dark. We were then conveyed to a

small room on the ground floor of the castle, where some food was

given to us, and a fire, for it was very cold. I had never been a

prisoner before myself, but I had always seen the prisoners treated

differently; and I could not but think that this long foot march of

two wounded gentlemen was somewhat harsh.

I noticed the fact to Stuart, who said, "It is not a sign of the

times, De Cerons, but it is a sign of the Duke of Anjou. There is not

another commander in France who would have treated noble prisoners as

he has done this day. However, to me it matters little; my account

with this world is made; and, as soon as I have taken some

nourishment, for I feel faint, I must try and make my peace with God."

After eating a small quantity, and drinking a cup of wine mingled with

water, he turned away, and, kneeling in the most distant part of the

room, remained for several minutes in prayer. He then rose and spoke

more cheerfully, or perhaps I should say, more calmly; and in about

half an hour we were both summoned to the presence of the Duke of

Anjou. At the door we found two or three guards, who led us on up some

dark steps, and then through a door into a long and wide but low stone

gallery, with large gray columns every three or four steps, supporting

the pointed vault of the roof. It was tolerably well lighted with

torches placed here and there, and on the left side was a row of

windows, while on the right was a row of doors between the columns.

At the third pillar from the entrance, two or three people were

gathered round a large sort of stone table close underneath the

column, and as I passed I saw that on it was stretched the corpse of

the Prince de Condé, the body wrapped in linen with some degree of

decency, but the head and face exposed. Those who were gazing upon it

took no notice of us as we advanced, and at the very farther end of

the hall we paused for the first time before a door, where stood a

man-at-arms with his sword drawn.

One of those who accompanied us went in, and the next minute Stuart

was called into the room beyond, while I remained without. I could

hear nothing that passed, but I was not a little anxious and

apprehensive for my poor comrade.

At length my name was called, and I passed on into the small passage

which led to an inner room; it could scarcely be called the

antechamber, for it was not above eight feet long and five or six in

width. It was tapestried, however, and there was a lamp against the

wall, but the door of the chamber beyond was partly open, and a great

light streamed forth.

At the moment that the other door closed behind me, I could hear the

voice of the Duke of Anjou exclaiming aloud and somewhat angrily,

"Away with the Scotch assassin! Away with him!" And, as I entered

the room, I saw Stuart standing close by the door, with a tall,

dark-looking man grasping him by the shoulder. My noble comrade's

head, however, was raised and dignified; there was a bright red flush

upon his brow, and his cheek was now anything but pale, while his

right hand was stretched out, not exactly in the attitude of menace,

but still bold and fearless.

"Take back the word assassin, prince," he said; "I am none; Had your

false constable died by my hand in fight, as would to Heaven he had!

he would have died well and deservedly, as the man who attempts to

kill the person to whom he surrendered merits by every law of arms. I

am no assassin: it is you who butcher prisoners in cold blood. But I

warn you, the time shall come--ay, and the knife that shall do it is

even now sharpened--when you shall regret the blood that you now

wantonly spill, as the hand of some other butcher like yourself takes

a life that you have misused too long. Now fare you well! Do your

will! I care not how soon it comes!"

Thus saying, he turned away; he looked at me for a moment as if he

would have spoken to me, but in that moment I could see his features

change. I feel convinced that at that moment he recollected he might

do me injury by any token of friendship, and he passed me as if he had

never seen me before.

The moment he was gone and the door closed, the Duke of Anjou

pronounced my name; but, before I could answer, I heard one or two

blows struck without, a short cry suppressed into a groan, and then a

heavy fall.

"Seigneur de Cerons!" repeated the voice of the Duke of Anjou in a

fierce tone; and, turning to the table, I saw that prince's

countenance extremely red, while the faces of all those who were

standing around were deadly pale. I have never been accustomed to set

any great value upon life, but I have never, in the course of my

existence, felt so utterly careless of living and dying as I did at

that moment. The great event seemed close upon me, and I advanced to

the table as calmly as if I had been going to sit down to meat. The

Duke of Anjou fixed his eyes upon me, and again there came upon his

countenance that unpleasant smile, which, whether I interpreted it

right or wrong I know not, seemed to augur anything but good.

"You appear alarmed," said the duke, gazing at me.

"If so, my lord," I replied, "my countenance must sadly belie my

heart."

"Then you fear nothing," he said. "We shall soon see how you will bear

your fate."

"Very probably, your highness," I replied, "as other men bear theirs;

though, as to fear, I am as free from it as your highness."

Among the officers who stood behind the duke, two made me a sign at

this moment. The Duke of Montpensier pointed to the door through which

Stuart had just passed, then lifted his hand as if to beseech me to be

silent. Martigue, though evidently friendly towards me, knit his brows

and shook his fist at me. But the Duke of Anjou, after gazing on me

for a moment, exclaimed, "What babblers and braggarts these Huguenots

are! Take the Maheutre out, and hang him to one of the spouts of the

castle!"

"I beg your highness's pardon," said Martigue, advancing with a frank

and somewhat jocular air: "You will recollect he is my prisoner; and,

before you hang him, you must pay me fifteen hundred crowns for his

ransom."

"Oh, I will pay you, I will pay you, Martigue," said the prince.

"I will give no credit," replied Martigue, in the same tone. "Down

upon the table, my lord, or you don't have him! A hanged man is no

good to me, and, I should think, none to your highness either."

"I should think not indeed," said one of the gentlemen who stood

behind: "besides, my lord, I really do not know anything that Monsieur

de Cerons has done, either against your highness or his majesty's

service which should excite your indignation against him: besides, he

is a knight, my lord.

"Has he not done plenty?" exclaimed the duke, still maintaining his

anger, although he had smiled upon Martigue. "A knight! Haven't I

heard that he is a mere marauder, cutting off our parties, stealing

into our camp as a spy, setting fire to villages? I say, is he not a

mere marauder?"

Perhaps the love of existence had grown upon me as I heard the

question of life and death discussed; and, at all events, I had a very

strong objection to hanging from one of the spouts of Jarnac. The duke

looked towards me as he asked the last time if I were not a marauder,

and I replied, "Your highness has been greatly misinformed. I am no

marauder, but acting under a commission from the princes of the

Protestant league. Neither can it ever be said of me, sir, or of one

single man under my command, that we have ever sacked or pillaged a

Catholic house, that we have ever drawn the sword against any unarmed

man, or that I have demanded one shilling of contribution from any

village in which I lodged. The bare walls of the house in which I was

quartered was all that I ever demanded; and my purse has ever been

ready to pay for everything that I took."

"That is more than his highness, or any one else here can say," cried

Martigue; and the duke himself burst into a loud laugh.

"Allow me to add," I said, "That my entering your highness's camp,

though somewhat bold, was in no degree as a spy; for I came with my

men at my back, and all of us armed to the teeth: neither was there

say great harm in coming to rescue a relation, which was our sole

object; nor, did we injure any one till we were ourselves attacked."

"Ay!" cried the duke; "and, if I remember right, your cousin rewarded

you by refusing to go."

"You must be a poor mouse, Monsieur de Cerons," cried Martigue,

laughing, and evidently trying to set the prince in good-humour again,

"you must be a poor mouse to get into the trap, and not to get the

bait after all."

"Ay, but the mouse not only got out of the trap," I replied, "but bit

the rat-catcher's fingers. Was it not so, Monsieur Martigue!"

"Ha! he has you there, Martigue," cried the duke. "What say you now?

Will you hang him in revenge for the loss of that cornet?"

"I say, sir," replied Martigue, gayly, "That the young gentleman

speaks very true. The mouse did bite the rat-catcher's fingers, and

bit him to the bone. But the rat-catcher has caught him at last, and,

by your highness's good leave, will keep him now he's got him."

It was evident that some progress had been made in moving the Duke of

Anjou, and at that moment the Duke of Montpensier joined in.

"I told your highness this morning," he said, "That it was my

intention to ask a boon of you in regard to Monsieur de Cerons; but,

as your highness knows, I intercede for no one without good reason. In

the first place, let me say, that this gentleman, instead of being a

mere marauder, as some one has induced your highness to believe, is

perhaps the most generous and scrupulous of the enemy's party. I can

speak of the accounts given of him by the peasantry myself; and,

besides, I have had certain information, from a gentleman who saw it

in the town of Pons, that he was there known to cut down one of his

own men for some of the horrors usually committed in a town taken by

assault. But this is not all, sir. I personally owe him a deep debt of

gratitude for saving the life of my son, and sending him back into the

camp without demanding a ransom."

"What! your son, Montpensier?" exclaimed the duke; "What! D'Auvergne?"

"Neither more nor less, my lord," replied the duke. "When we decamped

from the neighbourhood of Loudun, Monsieur de Cerons led those that

pursued. My son turned to drive them back. In the _mêlée_ he was borne

to the ground, and was absolutely under the feet of Monsieur de

Cerons' horse. That gentleman helped him to rise; and, telling him to

mount in haste, suffered him to retire unhurt. Under these

circumstances, I must not only beg his life of your highness, if you

ever seriously thought of putting him to death, which I do not

believe; but I would also offer to pay his ransom at once to Monsieur

de Martigue and set him free, only that I trust, by keeping him here

in our camp for some time, we may cure him of some prejudices of

education, and gain a very distinguished soldier back to religion and

to loyalty. Such gentlemen as Monsieur de Cerons, my lord, are far

better worth winning than hanging, depend upon it."

"You will ruin us all, you will ruin us all!" cried a voice from

behind, which I found afterward came from the well-known Chicot. "If

you convert Monsieur de Cerons, and bring him into our camp, the

army's lost, the king's throne shaken, and he may play at bowls with

the globe and crown. Why, heavens and earth! wasn't it bad enough

when we had only Martigue to lead us into every mad adventure, while

the Huguenots had this mad fellow to run his head against our

crack-brained galloper! If you bring, over another such to our side to

match Martigue, the army will be like a string between two young dogs,

pulled here and there over every bush, and hill, and fence, through

the whole land. 'Pon my soul, I had hoped and trusted that I should

hear Martigue had been killed to-day; for I am tired to death, and my

brain quite weary with thinking where he will be next: but if you come

to add to him this same night-walking spectre of cast iron, there is

no chance of any one ever having a moment's repose through life."

"Pray attend to Chicot's reasons, your highness," said Martigue; "for,

like some old verses that I've met with, they always read the wrong

way, you know."

"Well," said the prince, "if you will all have it so, so it must be, I

suppose; but, at all events, I shall expect no slight apology from

Monsieur de Cerons for the rash and insolent words he addressed to me

this morning."

"I trust, sir," I replied, "That in my grief for the disasters of this

day, I have not been mad enough to address to your highness, the

brother of my king, any words of insolence whatever. I am quite

ignorant and unconscious of having done so, but beg your highness's

pardon most sincerely and most humbly for anything that could have

been construed to that effect."

"That is well, that is well," replied the duke: "you must indeed have

forgotten yourself; but the words that you spoke, sir, about the

Prince de Condé, were rash and insolent."

"But were never applicable to your highness," I replied. "They were

entirely and totally meant for and pointed at the Baron de

Montesquieu, the cold-blooded murderer of a gallant prince; and I am

sure, sir, that, had you seen the act as I did, your generous nature

would have been roused in a moment to avenge the butchery of your

cousin upon his foul assassin."

"Perhaps I might," replied the prince: but the Duke of Montpensier,

who knew that such discussions with the Duke of Anjou became dangerous

in every point of view when carried too far, took advantage of a

slight thoughtful pause to say, "I think your highness graciously

granted my request."

The prince bowed his head, and Montpensier, passing round the table,

took me by the arm, nodding to Martigue, who replied, if I might read

his looks, "Get him away as fast as you can."

The prince, however, detained us for a moment longer, saying, "I will

speak to Monsieur de Cerons at some future time: his countenance

pleases me."

"No reply," whispered the Duke of Montpensier; and, merely bowing my

head low as my answer, I followed the duke through the door. In that

little passage antechamber, however, my first step was into a pool of

dark blood, and I was about to draw back with an exclamation, when the

duke pulled me on sharply by the left arm; and after we had got

several paces down the gallery, he said, in a low, deep tone,

"Young man, young man! you have been sporting with a tiger, who has

already torn one to pieces, and has got the thirst for blood upon him

strong!"

CHAPTER II.

To the Duke of Montpensier's words I made no reply, as there were

several persons not far off at the time, and I feared that whatever I

might say at such a moment would be less calm and temperate than I

could have wished it. The duke added nothing more, but led me on past

the spot where the body of the Prince de Condé lay, to the lower story

of the building, where we found, not far from the room in which I had

been at first confined, a considerable body of his attendants, with

his son, the Prince d'Auvergne. The moment the young man saw me, he

started forward and grasped my hand, exclaiming, "He is safe, he is

safe!"

"He is so," replied the duke; "but it is not his own fault that he is

not now lying stark and cold as some others that I could name. Take

him away with you, D'Auvergne, to our quarters, and, for Heaven's

sake, teach him to be cautious where he is. Monsieur de Cerons," he

continued, turning to me, "I need not ask you whether I have your

parole."

"Of course, my lord," I replied, "of course; I surrendered voluntarily

to Monsieur Martigue, and by the same right that I claim my life, not

as a matter of grace, but as a matter of justice, I consider myself as

a prisoner till my ransom is granted and paid."

The duke bowed his head and left me, and the Prince d'Auvergne, with

his attendants, led me out into the streets of Jarnac, where, with

several torches before us, we proceeded to the lower part of the town,

and entered a large dwelling which had been taken possession of by the

Duke of Montpensier. A good deal to my surprise, for I had as yet seen

nothing but the Huguenot camp, I found nearly as much splendour and

luxury reigning in the temporary abode of the Catholic commander as if

he had been in the mansion of his ancestors. There were servants in

splendid dresses, there were lights in all the rooms, and the prince

led me into a great hall, where a large table was set out as if for

the supper of some twenty or thirty persons.

"My father," he said, "Will soon return; but, till he does so,

Monsieur de Cerons, let us go into this little room beyond, and

converse for a few moments quietly."

He then led me in, asked after the wounds I had received, spoke to me

of the different events of the late battle, and mentioned the death of

the Prince de Condé with so much kindly and noble feeling, that, had

not my mind been altogether prepossessed in his favour before, those

words would have attached me to him for ever. He then gave me several

cautions with regard to my conduct during my stay in the Catholic

camp.

"Neither my father nor myself," he said, "Would wish you to abandon

your opinions except upon full conviction; but, at the same time, it

will be much better for you, as far as possible, to restrain any

expression of those opinions, for there are dangerous men around us

all, and you might place yourself in situations from which it might be

difficult, if not impossible, to extricate you."

I promised to follow his counsel; and then, judging from his

conversation that he must have more experience in the ways of courts

and camps than I had imagined, I asked him if this was the first

campaign in which he had served.

"Oh, no!" he replied; "I am older than I appear, Monsieur de Cerons."

And I found that such indeed was the case, but that in him there was

the extraordinary combination of high powers of mind and considerable

experience, with unpresuming modesty, and all the frank, quick

emotions of boyhood. There was something fine and noble, too, in the

demeanour of the father to the son and the son to the father. The duke

felt all the eager apprehensions and tender anxiety for the young

prince that he had felt when he was a boy, flew always to his succour

in the battle-field, and seemed to feel unwilling to yield the

affectionate privilege of guiding, guarding, and defending his boy;

but, at the same time, he was aware and proud of his son's high

qualities, had every confidence in his mind and judgment, and treated

his opinions with that respect which ensured the respect of others.

The son, on his part, though well aware of his own capability of

directing and defending himself, ever showed the deepest gratitude for

his father's tenderness, and reverence for his authority and advice.

Not long after our conversation had begun, there were some steps heard

in the hall, and the voice of the Duke of Montpensier was heard

exclaiming, "Where are you, Francis? Where is Monsieur de Cerons?"

In another moment the duke entered the room, before his son could go

to meet him. He was accompanied by Martigue, who entered the little

room with him, and by several others, who remained behind in the

supper-room.

The moment he entered, Martigue seized me roughly by the collar on

both sides of my buff coat, and gave me a little but friendly shake,

exclaiming, "You young scoundrel, you owe me double ransom, I swear."

And, as he spoke, the old soldier looked me over from head to foot

with the eye of a connoisseur, as if calculating what portion of

strength there was in my limbs.

"Upon my honour, Monsieur de Martigue," I replied, "I think I do; for

you have certainly once spared my life and once saved it."

"You are honest, you are honest!" replied Martigue, in the same tone:

"but here I and Monsieur de Montpensier have been quarrelling for you.

He says he will keep you here till your wounds are whole, to try if he

cannot cure you of Calvinism, or, at all events, teach you to serve

the king in another way than fighting his troops and cutting the

throats of his subjects. I want you to be put to ransom directly, in

order that you and I may, some day or another before long, have a fair

opportunity of trying our right hands; for we have not had it out yet,

seeing that you got off in such a shabby way this morning by shooting

my horse."

"I could not help it, Monsieur de Martigue," I replied, "or I would

not have done it. I was in the midst of your people; and if I had not

taken that moment to escape, I must have surrendered to them, even if

I had got the better of you. However, I surely made up for it

afterward."

"What! in the village?" cried Martigue. "Oh, I never got near you

there."

"No," I replied; "after that unfortunate _mêlée_, I made up my mind

that I would surrender to none but you if I could help it, and lay

still there, while twenty people passed, till I saw you come up."

"By the Lord, you might have done worse!" cried Martigue. "If Montluc

had got hold of you, he would have given you a pistol-shot for your

pains. By-the-way, it was shrewd of you, Monsieur de Montpensier, to

send Montluc away towards Cognac; for, by Heavens! if he had been at

the ear of monseigneur to-night, instead of quiet people like

ourselves, there is no knowing what would have come of it."

"The streets of Jarnac would have flowed with blood," replied the

duke; "however, Monsieur de Cerons, you are now safe, and I have to

inform you that Monsieur de Martigue consents to receive your ransom

from me, so that you are now my prisoner. I trust I may add, also,

that you are my son's friend, and therefore will beg you to remain

with us some few weeks, as I have every reason to believe that, ere

long, matters will assume a more pacific aspect, and the contentions

which now desolate France be brought to an end without your taking any

farther share therein."

I had no choice but to obey; for, of course, I could not compel them

to set me at liberty before they thought fit. I knew also that, for

the time, I was unable to do any effectual service in the field, and

therefore I regretted less to be thus detained a prisoner.

When all this was settled, the duke informed me that he intended to

send a flag the next morning to the admiral, and that, if I chose it,

I could communicate at the same time with any of my friends in the

camp, and give any orders concerning my baggage and attendants that I

might think fit. This information was gratifying to me in several

respects, but in none more than inasmuch as it showed me that the

admiral had been enabled to save a large portion of the Huguenot army

and all the baggage. I took advantage of the duke's offer, then, to

send word to Moric Endem to take the command of my troop till my

return, and to send me three horses and two horse-boys; to carry the

small chest, in which I had placed the ransom of Monsieur de Jersay,

with other money, to the admiral, and desire him to open it, with a

request that he would divide a thousand crowns among the men of my

troop, and, sending me a thousand crowns, would put the rest in safety

for me till the Catholics admitted me to ransom. I wrote these

directions down at once by the duke's desire, as the messenger was to

set off early on the following morning; and, ere I had done, for it

took me some time to write with my left hand, one of the servers

announced to the duke that supper was upon the table.

"You look pale and worn, Monsieur de Cerons," said the duke. "My

principal officers sup with me to-night; pray come and take some

refreshment, after which you shall retire to a chamber prepared for

you, and I will send my own surgeon to attend you, for I see you are

somewhat hurt."

Thus saying, he left me; and, finishing what I was writing, I directed

it to Moric Endem, with a note stating that, if he was not to be

found, it was to be given to the admiral. I then followed to the

supper-table, which I found surrounded by a number of distinguished

men, but with a seat reserved for me among them; and I must say that I

never in my life met with more kindness and courtesy than greeted me

there, while a prisoner, at the Duke of Montpensier's table.

The duke and the prince both pressed me to eat, but the wound in my

arm had given me excessive pain during the whole evening; my shoulder

was burning and inflamed; I felt bruised, feverish, sick, and weary;

and before my eyes, as I sat at the table, were floating continually

vague images of all the terrible scenes and events that I had been

witness of during that day. It may well be conceived, therefore, that

I loathed the very sight of food, and yet every moment I felt myself

becoming more and more faint. I saw the eyes of the Prince d'Auvergne

upon me from time to time, and at length he sent round one of the

attendants, who was pouring out for him some choice wine, to carry the

flagon to me. I held the cup for him, thinking that the wine might

revive me; but, as I did so, and turned my head somewhat suddenly, all

the objects in the room seemed to swim around me, and I fell back

senseless upon the floor of the hall.

When I recovered in some degree, I found myself in bed in a very

comfortable room, with a gentleman in the dress of a surgeon beside

me, and two or three attendants around. I have only a vague

recollection, however, of what passed on that occasion, for I was

during the whole night in a state approaching delirium, with wild

images of the battle and its consequences rising up before my mind the

moment I closed my eyes to sleep. Now I was in the midst of the enemy,

again fighting hand to hand with Martigue; then he suddenly changed to

the Prince de Condé, and by some strange process of the imagination I

became Montesquieu, and was about to shoot him under the bank, hating

myself all the time for what I was doing, yet hurried on irresistibly

to accomplish it. Then suddenly a strong hand seemed to seize me, and

I found myself a prisoner; and at other times I beheld the gallant

prince who had fallen, as he sat before the last fatal charge, raising

his hand towards the white banner above his head, and addressing those

last, terrible, memorable words to us who surrounded him.

In such wild visions passed the whole night; but an hour or two before

daybreak I fell into a somewhat sounder sleep, and when I woke, just

after dawn, I found the Prince d'Auvergne sitting beside me, and

speaking to one of the attendants.

"Oh, is that you, monseigneur," I said, turning partly towards him.

"Yes, Monsieur de Cerons," he replied, "I did not like to disturb you,

because the attendant tells me you have had a bad night; but, as you

are awake, I may as well ask you if there is anything that I can do

for you this morning, as I am going with the rest of the officers to

the field of battle, to see the loss on either side, and to make

arrangements in regard to the wounded and the dead. I fear that you

must, like most of us, have some friend there."

"Several, I doubt not, my lord," I replied; "but, of course, my

principal care must be for my own people. Should you find among the

prisoners or the wounded any men belonging to my band, I trust you

will have them kindly treated for my sake. There is one poor lad,

indeed, for whom I am anxious to make inquiries. He is named Andriot,

and followed me to the field, not as a man-at-arms, but merely as an

attendant; he fell upon the slope of the hill, about half a mile from

Triac, in face of Monsieur de Brissac's arquebusiers."

"I will not fail to make inquiries for him," replied the prince, "and

for the others also; and I will report to you, as soon as I return,

what has been done. It may be late, however, before I come back; and,

in the mean time, I understand the surgeon has left especial orders

that you should not quit your bed on any account whatever."

I would fain have risen, but the prince insisted so strongly upon my

obeying the surgeon's commands to the letter, that I promised him to

do so, and soon found the benefit of yielding to better knowledge than

my own.

After remaining for an hour, or somewhat more, in sorrowful but more

tranquil thoughts than during the preceding evening I had been able to

obtain, exhaustion and weakness again brought on sleep, but of a far

more calm and beneficial character; and, till nearly four o'clock in

the evening, I enjoyed a long lapse of peaceful slumber.

At length I awoke, and found a servant still with me, with whom I

talked for some time on the rumours of the day, and found, much to my

satisfaction, that a large force of Protestants occupied Cognac, and

that the rest of the army had effected its retreat in complete safety

to the town of Sainctes. Very few prisoners were said to have been

taken, and the whole baggage of the Protestant army had, it seems,

been saved. The attendant, however, spoke confidently of Cognac being

attacked the next day; talked of the Protestant cause as utterly

ruined and hopeless, and exalted the virtues, skill, and courage of

the Duke of Anjou to the very skies. Remembering the warning I had

received on the preceding night, I made no reply, but only asked

questions, to which he very willingly returned an answer.

In the midst of our conversation, however, I heard irregular footfalls

without, as if of some lame person approaching the chamber, and in a

moment or two after, not a little to my satisfaction, poor Andriot

hobbled in, supporting himself upon a stick. The same ball, it seems,

which had killed his horse, had wounded him also in the leg; and

though the man was by no means a coward, and, I believe, was perfectly

insensible of anything like nervous agitation, he avoided from that

moment every scene of strife, declaring deliberately that wounds in

the leg were not comfortable.

I was visited on the same night by the Prince d'Auvergne, and on the

following day was permitted to rise, and spent an hour in the morning

with the Duke of Montpensier. The duke and his son both showed me the

greatest kindness; but there was not the slightest word said about

admitting me to ransom, and I remarked that the subject was carefully

avoided. In the evening, my horses and the grooms I had sent for

arrived, together with the money and a letter from Moric Endem, which

was couched in the following terms:

"MONSEIGNEUR,

"I have never seen any one comport himself better in a hot _mêlée_

than you did yesterday, which must console you for being taken

prisoner and for having to pay a ransom, which is always, of course,

the most unpleasant thing that can happen to any gentleman adventurer.

I dare say, for a gentleman of your kidney, it would have been

pleasanter, take it upon the whole, to be killed outright by the side

of our brave prince. I have often heard gentlemen--that is to

say--young gentlemen, say such things; but I never could manage to

feel anything of the kind myself, always looking upon a live ass to be

a great deal better than a dead lion. I have not the slightest doubt,

therefore, that some time or another hereafter you will find it a very

comfortable thing indeed to be alive; and you will have the advantage,

too, of being able to get yourself killed another time in case you

like it.

"In the mean time, I will do my best to lead the troop as you have

done, and trust we shall have plenty of plunder to give an account of

when you come back again. The enemy are not so successful at that work

as we are, and you will be glad to hear that all the baggage is quite

safe. I have taken the chest to the admiral, as you commanded; and

have distributed the thousand crowns among the men, who are very

grateful; and I send you the thousand that you require for yourself,

together with the admiral's receipt for the remainder, amounting to

three thousand seven hundred and sixty crowns of the sun, with two

livres tournois, six sous, and two derniers. I am sorry to tell you

that we have lost no less than thirteen men, of whom nine were killed

or disabled before you quitted us on the hill. Poor Moriton we got

off, but he died last night, having been shot very funnily by two

arquebus balls at the same moment, which must have touched each other,

for they made a long wound just like a keyhole. I have kept his

cuirass, poor fellow, for one may live many a day without seeing such

a thing as that. I myself have lost the tip of my right ear, which is

no great loss after all, for it only makes that one match the left,

the end of which was shot off some years ago by a mad fellow called

Chicot. I send you below a list of our killed and wounded, and am,

Your devoted servant,

"MORIC ENDEM."

With this curious epistle was a brief note from the admiral,

acknowledging the receipt of the money, and telling me that though, of

course, it was necessary to arrange the liberation of the elder and

more experienced officers in the first instance, he would not forget

me when it came to my turn. The words were words of course, and I

certainly did not expect that the admiral would think of the matter

much more, as in fact he did not do.

Towards night the Duke of Montpensier himself came back to Jarnac, and

I saw that he was a good deal mortified, annoyed, and thoughtful.

After supper he somewhat recovered himself, and I then found, from

what he said, that the efforts of the Catholics upon Cognac had been

repelled successfully at every point, and the army obliged to

withdraw. Shortly after this, the duke entered my chamber one morning

early, saying, "Monsieur de Cerons, I come to take leave of you for a

time. The army is about to march, the surgeon thinks it not fit that

you should advance as rapidly as we do, and it is therefore my wish

that you should proceed by slow stages to my house at Champigny, where

a part of my attendants are about to go. You will there find every

convenience; I have written to prepare my people for your reception,

and I consider you still, you must remember, upon parole."

"It must be, my lord," I replied, "of course, as you think fit: but I

trust it will not be long before you kindly name my ransom, and set me

at liberty."

The duke turned to me with a kindly expression of countenance, and

replied, "Believe me, Monsieur de Cerons, I have your interests nearly

at heart. Neither I nor my son are persons whose affections are given

by halves. I have consulted with him and with one or two other

gentlemen, for whose opinion I have a respect, and they all think with

me, that I had better act as I have undoubtedly a right to do, and

detain you as a prisoner; though assuredly a prisoner in no very

strict sense of the word, than, by permitting you to go on in the

course with which you have begun--glorious in a military point of

view, as it may be--see you make yourself remarkable by determined

rebellion and opposition to the royal authority, and thus exclude

yourself for ever from the royal protection. There is my hand.

Monsieur de Cerons. Believe me, I wish you well."

I took his hand respectfully, I may say affectionately, and replied,

"Your good opinion is, indeed, most deeply valuable to me, my lord;

but yet, pardon me for detaining you to hear one word more. In your

calculations for my benefit, there are things that you do not know.

Are you aware, my lord, that the whole fortune I possess on earth is

my sword; that it is an absolute necessity for me to distinguish

myself, and make myself a high name by military exertion? It is, of

course, impossible for me to fight against those who maintain the same

religious opinions as myself, and, consequently, the only field that

is open to me is in arms in the Protestant cause."

"But the estate of Cerons?" said the duke, inquiringly. "I remember it

a very fair property in the hands of, I think, your father?"

"Alas! sir," I replied, "The estate of Cerons has never been mine. My

father, by the necessities of the times in which he lived, was obliged

to part with the whole estate, except one rood of land, to preserve

the name to his son. It was bought by his more fortunate cousin, the

Baron de Blancford, with whom it still remains. Thus, therefore, my

lord, if you keep me still a prisoner, though your motives may be most

kind ones, you cut me off from every opportunity of advancing my own

fortunes and renown; and, let me add in one word, that I have the

strongest of all possible motives for seeking to urge my way forward

as fast as possible."

"What, love?" said the Duke of Montpensier, laying his hand upon my

shoulder, and gazing in my face with a smile. "Nay, never conceal it.

I can feel for you well, Monsieur de Cerons. But let me consider for a

moment." And he fell into a fit of musing which lasted for several

minutes.

"I had thought your circumstances were different," he continued; "but,

however, it will only make this difference, that it will induce us to

do at once what we intended always to do ultimately."

"To set me at liberty, I trust, my lord?" I replied.

"No," he said, with a smile, "no; the very reason you give is a

stronger motive for keeping you. But Francis shall speak to you upon

it all. You will make your first day's march with him to-morrow, and

remember, I only exact one thing on my part. When you are at

Champigny, you are to make yourself as little known by name as

possible, and to keep yourself as much concealed as you can. However,

I will talk to D'Auvergne about it, and he shall tell you all. He sees

me ten miles upon my way to-day, and then returns. Trust to what he

tells you from me as if they were my own words." And, thus saying, he

left me, grateful indeed for having made such a friend, but still not

a little grieved and melancholy at the prospect of remaining a

prisoner, confined to the dull neighbourhood of Saumur.

CHAPTER IV.

From the windows of the house where the Duke of Montpensier had taken

up his quarters, I saw a large division of the army march out of

Jarnac, and certainly a very different scene, indeed, was the gay and

glittering procession of the royal host from the bands of the poor

Huguenots even in their freshest guise. Of the young Prince D'Auvergne

I saw nothing during that day till supper-time, when, surrounded by

his officers, he had only an opportunity of speaking to me a few words

to prepare me for taking my departure from Jarnac an hour after

sunrise on the following day. Though there were one or two persons of

higher rank sat nearer the prince at supper than I did, and many with

whom he was in old habits of intimacy, yet the little incident which

had occurred during the retreat from Loudun, my condition as a

prisoner, and the anxiety he had felt at different times on my account

when my life was in danger, seemed to have established a deeper kind

of interest between me and him than there existed between himself and

any of his own party; and he always spoke to me with that tone of

kindness, attention, and feeling which made any strangers who might

happen to be at the table turn their eyes to see who it was that the

prince addressed in such a manner.

Somewhat before the time appointed on the following morning I

descended from my chamber, prepared to set out. I found that the

prince[4] had gone to the quarters of the Duke of Anjou, and the

attendants, who were about to be sent from the army to Champigny, were

waiting round the door with their horses and mine, ready to take their

places as the troops passed along. Determined to follow their example,

I waited by the side of my horse, while the attendants of the Duke of

Montpensier and my own kept respectfully at a little distance, when I

felt some one suddenly pull my mantle, and, turning round, I saw one

of the most beautiful girls I had ever beheld, whose features were not

unfamiliar to me. The handwriting of the letter that she slipped into

my hand, however, was far better known, for it was that of Louise de

Blancford; and, with a hand all eagerness, I was tearing it open, when

the girl again plucked me by the cloak, and, gazing up in my face with

her large, dark eyes, cried, "Hist! seigneur, hist! Will you befriend

us!"