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UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
 Class Book Volume 
 
 My 08-1 5M 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2016 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign*Alfernates 
 
 https://archive.org/details/manatarmsorhenri00jame_0 
 
THE MAN-AT-ARMS 
 
 OR, 
 
 Henri de Cerons 
 
 by 
 
 G. P. R. JAMES 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION 
 
 LONDON 
 
 GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, Limite 
 New York: E. P. DUTTON AND CO. 
 
The Man at Arms 
 
 or 
 
 St. Bartholomew’s Eve 
 
INTKODUCTION, 
 
 George Payne Rainsford James, Historiographer 
 Royal to King William IV., was born in London in the 
 first year of the nineteenth century, and died at Venice 
 in 1860. His comparatively short life was exceptionally 
 full and active. He was historian, politician and tra- 
 veller, the reputed author of upwards of a hundred 
 novels, the compiler and editor of nearly half as many 
 volumes of letters, memoirs, and biographies, a poet and 
 a pamphleteer, and, during the last ten years of his life, 
 British Consul successively in Massachusetts, Norfolk 
 (Virginia), and Venice. He was on terms of friendship 
 with most of the eminent men of his day. Scott, on 
 whose style he founded his own, encouraged him to per- 
 severe in his career as a novelist; Washington Irving 
 admired him, and Walter Savage Landor composed an 
 epitaph to his memory. He achieved the distinction of 
 being twice burlesqued by Thackeray, and two columns 
 are devoted to an account of him in the new “ Dictionary 
 of National Biography.” Each generation follows its 
 own gods, and G. P. R. James was, perhaps, too prolific 
 an author to maintain the popularity which made him 
 “ in some ways the most successful novelist of his time.” 
 But his work bears selection and revival. It possesses 
 the qualities of seriousness and interest ; his best 
 historical novels are faithful in setting and free in move- 
 ment. His narrative is clear, his history conscientious, 
 and his plots are well-conceived. English learning and 
 literature are enriched by the work of this writer, who 
 made vivid every epoch in the world’s history by the 
 charm of his romance. 
 
 The period depicted in “ The Man at Arms ” is that or 
 Jarnac and Moncontour. The story falls in the years 
 1569 to 1572 — brilliant and strenuous years for the 
 Huguenot cause, but a time of strange and unanticipated 
 
iv 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 disasters. Unlike several others of James’s romances, 
 which deal like this with his favourite epoch, and seem 
 to be written in strong sympathy with the Catholic League 
 and the Guises, “ The Man at Arms ” is a thorough- 
 paced Huguenot story; the villains of the plot are 
 selected from the royalist side, and their commander-in- 
 chief, the famous Duke of Anjou, who figures in English 
 history as one of Elizabeth’s foreign suitors, is portrayed 
 in odious colours as an unscrupulous, dishonourable, 
 and bloodthirsty foe. The days of chivalry have passed 
 far away, the arquebus and the culverin have abolished 
 the shock of panoplied knights, and weary years of 
 civil strife — for this is the third Religious War — have 
 bred a fierceness and savagery between hostile troops 
 wofully different from the courtesy and high spirit that 
 reigned of yore. Fearless young Henri de Cerons would 
 fain bring back the chivalry and gallantry of Bayard and 
 Du Gueschin to these degenerate times, but he finds few 
 to support him. He sets a splendid example, and he is so 
 favoured by events as to earn the sobriquet of Fortunate 
 Monsieur de Cerons; but, though his personal lot is 
 happy, he sees his great leader, Conde, treacherously 
 murdered after the battle of Jarnac, and his own private 
 happiness is coincident with the terrible day of St. 
 Bartholomew, which robs him of the other great captain, 
 the Admiral Coligny, and of many that are dear to him. 
 It is always interesting to observe how accurately and 
 conscientiously James sets down even the minutiae of 
 habits and fashions. “ The scabbard of his sword,” he 
 observes of one personage, “was of velvet, and the 
 weapon was thrown so much back across his loins that it 
 was impossible for him to see the hilt. This was almost 
 a certain sign, at that time, in France, of one who 
 prided himself upon his birth, though the custom has 
 now greatly changed, and we wear our swords almost 
 straight upon the thigh.” There is not much character- 
 drawing in the book, but the soldier of fortune is excel- 
 lent. “ This is to signify,” runs the testimonial to 
 Moric Endem from Martignes, “ that Moric Endem is the 
 greatest liar in Europe ; but none the worse for that. He 
 fights like a tiger, and will now and then obey his orders.” 
 The book is rather a short one, but it is full of battles, 
 sieges and personal adventures from beginning to end. 
 
THE MAN AT ARMS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It is difficult to discover what are the exact sources from 
 which spring the thrilling feelings of joy and satisfaction 
 with which we look back to the days of our early youth, 
 and to the scenes in which our infancy was passed. It 
 matters not, or at least very little, what are the pleasures 
 which we have enjoyed in after-years, what are the de- 
 lights that surround us, what are the blessings which 
 Heaven has cast upon our lot. Whenever the mind, 
 either as a voluntary act, or from accidental associations, 
 recalls, by the aid of memory, the period of childhood 
 and the things which surround it, there comes over us a 
 gladdening sensation of pure and simple joys which we 
 never taste again at any time of life. It must be, at 
 least in part, that the delights of those days were 
 framed in innocence and ignorance of evil ; and that He 
 who declared that of such as little children consisted the 
 kingdom of Heaven, has allotted to the babes of this 
 world, in the brightness of their innocence, joys similar 
 to those of the world beyond, joys that never cloy, and 
 that leave no regret. What though some mortal tears 
 will mix with those delights, what though the flesh must 
 suffer, and the evil one will tempt; yet the allotted 
 pleasures have a zest which not even novelty alone could 
 give, and an imperishable purity in their nature which 
 makes their remembrance sweeter than the fruition of 
 other joys, and speaks their origin from Heaven. 
 
6 
 
 THE MAN AT ARMS | 
 
 I love to dwell upon such memories, and to find like- 
 nesses for them in the course, the aspect, and the pro- 
 ductions of the earth itself. I see the same sweetness 
 and the same simplicity pervading the youth of all 
 nature, and find in the dim violet, the youngest child 
 of Spring, an image of those early joys — pure, soft, 
 and calm, and full of an odour that acts upon the sense 
 more than that of any other flower. 
 
 Thus it is, I suppose, and for these causes, that in 
 looking hack upon the days of my youth — though those 
 days were not as happy and as bright as they are to 
 many people — I feel a secret satisfaction, which I knew 
 not at the time. Tet those hours, indeed, as one who 
 gives a diamond to a child, bestowed upon me a gift, the 
 value of which I knew not till many a year had passed 
 away. 
 
 My first recollections refer to the period when I w r as 
 about seven or eight years old, and to a sweet spot in 
 the far south of Prance, called Blancford, not far from 
 the great city of Bordeaux. The chateau in which I 
 dwelt had belonged for ages to my ancestors ; and the 
 little room in one of the turrets which was assigned to 
 me, looked towards the setting sun, over manifold beau- 
 tiful green slopes and wooded banks, with now and then 
 a broken bit of yellow ground, that harmonised beauti- 
 fully and richly with the warm tints of the spring and 
 the autumn, and broke not less pleasantly the thick 
 green of the mid year. Upon these banks and trees and 
 slopes the sunshine seemed to dwell with peculiar fond- 
 ness, and thither came the bright and smiling showers 
 of spring, and the rich vision-like light and shades of 
 autumn. Gay hawking parties, and many a splendid 
 cavalcade from the wealthy and important town in the 
 neighbourhood, diversified the scenery during the bright 
 part of the year, and towards the winter time the beasts 
 of the forest and the field used to change their more 
 distant dwelling for the neighbouring woods, and afford 
 sport and diversion to the inhabitants of the castle. 
 
 As I have said, that chateau had been for centuries the 
 abode of my ancestors, ever since the arm of Du Guesclin 
 
OR, HENRI DE CERONS. 7 
 
 and the wisdom of Charles had expelled the English 
 from the shores of France ; but still that chateau was not 
 mine, nor ever likely to be mine, for I was at that time 
 a poor dependent upon the bounty of others ; without 
 wealth, rank, station, or fortune of any kind, to give 
 hope to my heart or energy to my efforts. 
 
 The lord of that castle, my father’s first cousin, had 
 taken me out of compassion for his relation, a poor sol- 
 dier of fortune, who married thoughtlessly and died 
 young ; and as he — himself a lover of pleasure, and even 
 of licence — at the time he took me into his house, 
 thought only of marriage as a remote evil, he treated me 
 at first with so much kindness that the foolish persons 
 who surrounded us imagined that a time might come 
 when I should be his heir. Nothing, indeed, was further 
 from his thoughts ; he had always determined, and still 
 held the resolution of wedding ultimately, in the hope of 
 seeing his possessions descend to children of his own. 
 The accomplishment of this purpose was hastened by 
 accidental circumstances, which placed it in his power to 
 marry a beautiful and wealthy bride, whom he brought 
 home to the chateau in great pomp, and the festivities 
 which followed her arrival are among the first events 
 which I distinctly remember. 
 
 Surrounded by friends, and with scarcely a wish un- 
 gratified, my cousin might well consider himself a rich 
 and happy man in the possession of one so fair as she 
 was. But beauty was not the only quality which she 
 brought to make him happy ; nor riches the only dowry 
 that was settled upon her head. Never did I see any 
 one who combined more graces of person with more fine 
 qualities of the heart, never any one who more merited 
 the love of every one that approached her. 
 
 It was evident that she had heard of me before she 
 came, and she greeted me with a warm and kindly smile, 
 which went direct to my heart. She gazed upon me at 
 the same time with a look of deep interest and scru- 
 tinising inquiry, as if she thought to read my character 
 in my face, or to divine what were the feelings with 
 which I met her. Heaven knows that I had no feelings 
 
8 
 
 THE MAN AT ARMS; 
 
 but those of sincere joy. I entertained not the slightest 
 idea that her coming could have any evil effect upon my 
 fate, that it would in the least change my destiny or 
 affect my happiness. I was utterly ignorant of such 
 things at that period; the joy that was around me found 
 a ready echo in a heart naturally joyous, and I laughed 
 and danced, and sung with the rest, more unthinking of 
 the morrow than the bird upon the wing. 
 
 If the fair lady of Elancford gazed at me when first 
 she came, my cousin’s eye rested upon me many a 
 time when he saw me so gay and happy. I know not 
 what it was, but it seemed as if my happiness displeased 
 him. 
 
 I have since learned to know that in the human heart 
 there is often a great difference between remorse and 
 repentance; and that when we have done a fellow- 
 creature wrong, when we have pained, injured, ag- 
 grieved — ay, even when we only entertain the purpose 
 of doing so — we hate that being on account of the very 
 acts for which we should hate ourselves. 
 
 I do not mean to say that my cousin had injured me 
 by his marriage ; for surely he had every right to wed 
 where and when he thought fit ; but I am inclined to 
 believe, from facts which I heard afterwards, that the 
 first germ of harsh and unkind feeling towards me was 
 produced by a conviction that he had treated me with 
 greater kindness and distinction than he afterwards 
 intended to keep up, and that it was his duty to make a 
 provision for me against which his inclination struggled. 
 
 There were other matters, of which I may have to 
 speak hereafter, which increased and perpetuated such 
 feelings. He could not but recollect, however, that 
 before the death of my father he had been liberal of 
 promises and generous in words. He had said that he 
 would breed me up for a soldier, and that he would take 
 care I should have the means of advancing myself; and 
 now, perhaps, his intentions were changed. If they 
 were not then, they certainly became so after a short 
 time. 
 
 My cousin was at that period a gay and gallant man 
 
9 
 
 OR, HENRI DE CERONS. 
 
 of about five or six and thirty years of age, handsome 
 in appearance, specious in manners and words, with no 
 traces of profligate life in his language or appearance, 
 and very well fitted to gain and keep the love of any 
 young heart not thoroughly versed in the ways of man- 
 kind. Although his marriage, as most marriages are, 
 had been arranged entirely by the relations of the lady, 
 without any reference to her wishes; yet there is no 
 doubt that she married him with a heart free from other 
 attachments, and even prepossessed in his favour. 
 
 Erom such feelings, of course, affection readily sprang 
 up ; and, had he merited it, love, deep, devoted, heart- 
 felt, unchanging love would indubitably have followed. 
 But, alas ! he did not deserve it ; he took not the means 
 to obtain it ; and though the attachment remained, that 
 attachment was mingled with sadness, and perhaps with 
 bitterness ; and grave melancholy trod fast upon the 
 steps of feasting and merriment. 
 
 Eor my own part I was of a cheerful and happy 
 disposition, a little fanciful, perhaps, and somewhat 
 wild ; occasionally fond of solitary wandering and deep 
 thought, but at other periods light and gay as a butterfly. 
 Thus, then, I felt not — scarcely perceived indeed — that 
 the demeanour of the general servants and retainers of 
 my cousin’s house was at all changed towards me, 
 although it was changed from the very first day of his 
 marriage. But had it been changed ten times as much, 
 had they treated me with neglect, or scorn, or contempt- 
 ible malice, the pain would have been more than com- 
 pensated by the love and tenderness of that sweet lady 
 whom he wedded, and by the constant care she showed 
 me. 
 
 She first it was who recollected that, born of noble 
 race, and connected with many of the great and proud 
 in the land, it was needful that I should have the com- 
 mon education and accomplishments of the day ; and she 
 argued, that if I were poor and penniless, as her husband 
 said, and required to make a name and fortune for myself, 
 it was but the more necessary that, by the cultivation of 
 my mind, even in an extraordinary degree, I should be 
 
10 
 
 THE MAN AT ABMS ; 
 
 provided with the means of accomplishing the more 
 difficult task that was allotted to me. 
 
 My strength of body, and an eager, active spirit, had 
 already rendered me familiar with manly exercises in a 
 far greater degree than most youths of my age could 
 boast of; but my mind was totally uncultivated. I could 
 ride wild horses that many a man could not manage ; I 
 could fence as well as my strength allowed me ; and my 
 aim with the arquebus was true and firm ; I know not 
 the time when I could not swim, and my cousin’s pages, 
 though considerably older than myself, were unable to 
 compete with me in leaping or pitching the bar ; but 1 
 could neither write nor read, and knew nothing of books 
 or of the world, but by occasional words which I had 
 heard spoken, and treasured up in my memory. 
 
 No sooner did my cousin’s wife find that this was the 
 case, than she herself became my instructress ; and, oh ! 
 how kindly did she teach me, day after day, with un- 
 wearied patience, her fingers playing with the curls of 
 my hair, and her eyes often bent thoughtfully upon me, 
 as if she were calculating, with some melancholy, my 
 future destiny and her own. 
 
 Perhaps I was stupid ; perhaps I was by nature inat- 
 tentive ; but the love, the deep love, that I felt towards 
 her, made me exert every energy of my mind to give her 
 pleasure, and to make her task easy ; and though the 
 undertaking must have been dull, and my progress slow 
 at first, yet she always seemed well satisfied, and lured 
 me on with words of bright encouragement. 
 
 A time soon came, however, when her instructions 
 became somewhat painful, apparently ; there was a 
 languor in her eyes and in her tone which seemed to me 
 strange ; and, without being told to do so, I spoke in a 
 lower tone of voice, I paid more attention to everything 
 she said, I avoided all that could disturb or trouble her. 
 It seemed to me that she was ill, and nature taught me 
 to spare her all exertion. 
 
 At length, one day, she said to me, “ I must give 
 over teaching you for a time, Henri, but good Monsieur 
 la Tour will take the task till I can follow it again 
 
11 
 
 OR, HENRI DE CERONS. 
 
 and she put me under the charge of the minister of our 
 little village, or rather, indeed, I may call him the chap- 
 lain of the chateau. He was a good man as ever lived, 
 who had always shown himself fond of me, and who 
 now followed up wfith zeal and kindness, that which she 
 had so kindly and generously begun. 
 
 The whole family, and every one in the immediate 
 neighbourhood, were, as is well known, of the reformed 
 religion, and my cousin, the Baron de Blancford, was at 
 that time absent with the Protestant army. Shortly 
 after, however, he returned ; sent for, I believe, to be 
 present at the birth of his first child, and great anxiety 
 manifested itself in the household for several days. 
 Pears were entertained for the safety of the lady; but 
 at length I heard that the baroness had given birth to 
 a child, and that she herself was proceeding favourably. 
 With my heart full of joy and satisfaction, I ran to con- 
 gratulate my cousin, thinking that there could be no- 
 thing but similar feelings in his own heart. He pushed 
 me angrily away from him, however, exclaiming, “ You 
 fool, it is only a girl.” 
 
 Not understanding what he meant, or comprehending 
 in the slightest degree why the birth of a girl should 
 give him less satisfaction than if a son had been born, 
 I ran to the rooms of Monsieur la Tour and told him 
 what had happened ; and then it was for the first time 
 that I was made to understand how great was the dif- 
 ference made by the customs of the world between two 
 classes of beings naturally equal. A vague idea, too, 
 of my own circumstances was also communicated to 
 my mind ; and from that time, the change which had 
 taken place, and which daily increased in the deport- 
 ment of my cousin’s servants towards me, was marked, 
 understood, and felt painfully. 
 
 Two days after the birth of his daughter, the baron 
 again left the chateau ; but he remained long enough to 
 make me feel most bitterly that I was no longer the 
 boy whom he had sported with and loved in former 
 years. 
 
 The lady soon recovered, and resumed her care of me 
 
12 
 
 THE MAH AT ABMS \ 
 
 without a change. She loved to have me with her ; she 
 loved to see me play with her infant ; and, as month 
 after month proceeeded, the child’s affection for me 
 grew strong, and more strong, till there was none but her 
 mother that she loved so well. 
 
 About a year and a half afterwards a son was born, 
 and then another ; and from the birth of the first I 
 found that I was no longer an object of consideration 
 to any one, except to the good clergyman, whose affec- 
 tion towards me seemed to increase as that of the 
 others diminished, and to the sweet lady, who never for 
 a moment, in her love and care for others, forgot her 
 love and care for me. 
 
 A change had come over the whole household of my 
 cousin, however. The lover had long been forgotten 
 in the husband; the husband had now been forgotten 
 in the man of pleasure. Whenever any short cessation 
 of hostilities permitted him to visit the capital, it was 
 in Paris that the Lord of Blancford’s time was wholly 
 spent ; and at other periods his days were generally passed 
 in the pleasures of other great towns, afar from the 
 family which required his care and direction, and from 
 the wife whose love he had cast away. 
 
 On her part she showed not the slightest inclination 
 to depart from his expressed wish that she would re- 
 main at the chateau of Blancford. She loved not great 
 cities-, she sought not to indemnify herself for her hus- 
 band’s neglect, by following the same evil course in 
 which he led the way ; she enjoyed fully and entirely 
 the pleasures of rural life, and found in the duties of a 
 mother the greatest consolation and delight. Once in 
 the course of the month, perhaps, she visited Bordeaux 
 with the state becoming her rank and station, called 
 upon some of the chief ladies of the city, and returned 
 home after having remained there but a few hours. 
 Very frequently on these occasions I accompanied her, 
 and the kindness with which she mentioned me to all 
 who were really good and estimable, seemed to bespeak 
 for me their future protection and regard, although she 
 never even hinted at such an object. 
 
13 
 
 OB* HENRI BE CERONS. 
 
 I was her companion almost always in her walks, too, 
 and from her conversation I daily gained information 
 upon subjects with which otherwise, most probably, I 
 should never have been acquainted ; for she took a de- 
 light in forming and enlarging my mind ; and while she 
 endeavoured to instil principles, even more than know- 
 ledge, she illustrated for me the lessons she gave by 
 facts and examples, which often drew her on to further 
 explanations, and which certainly remained in my 
 memory, storing it with much that was curious, interest- 
 ing, and beautiful. 
 
 Indeed, there was scarcely a circumstance which ever 
 happened to me in after-life which did not cause me to 
 recollect something valuable in her instruction ; some- 
 thing which might teach me to know the right from the 
 wrong, to choose the good from the bad, or to return 
 from the evil, when I had been led into wrong, by the 
 shortest and most expeditious way. 
 
 In short, though she often fell into fits of musing, 
 when we were out together, she seldom lost an opportu- 
 nity of giving my mind improvement. If I fixed upon 
 a wild flower, she told me its nature and its qualities ; if 
 I watched a passing cloud, she explained to me how 
 sweet and beneficial to the earth’s surface are the light 
 vapours that float gently over it, descending in light 
 rain to render everything fertile and productive ; and she 
 would teach me, as well as she could, what were the 
 beneficial effects produced by the winds and storms, 
 which seemed to my imagination only destructive — 
 pointing still to the all-powerful hand of Providence 
 shaping the events of this world with never-erring 
 wisdom, directing all with never-failing might. 
 
 Prom her conversation, from her train of thought, my 
 mind took the peculiar turn which it ever after re- 
 tained ; and even to the present day — after scenes of 
 peril and danger, and activity ; after having gained by 
 sad experience knowledge of the world, and become 
 hackneyed and keen in the cunning of 'the earth — many 
 of the words that she spoke to me, many of the coun- 
 sels that she gave, come back upon my ear in all the 
 
14 
 
 THE MAN AT ARMS; 
 
 fresh sweetness of the tones in which they were origin 
 nally spoken ; and I feel myself better, happier, more 
 contented, when I thus dwell with her for a moment in 
 the wide tracts of memory, than I do when fulfilling any 
 of the ordinary duties of my state and station. 
 
 What the lady herself could not do to improve my 
 mind the good priest did : he applied himself to teach 
 me sciences, to read other languages than my own, both 
 dead and living ; to argue by rule, to write my native 
 tongue with accuracy, to calculate arithmetically, and to 
 do all, in short, that he himself could do, which was 
 more, perhaps, than my after-fate required. 
 
 It was some years, of course, ere I gained much faci- 
 lity in anything; but ere four years had passed after 
 my cousin’s marriage, I had become quite a different 
 being. The formidable obstacles that await us at the 
 entrance of every science had given way ; and during 
 the following year, which was the fourteenth of my age, 
 I made greater progress than I had done in any other. I 
 had now acquired a taste for the poetry which has de- 
 scended to us from other days ; and from that high and 
 ennobling source I drank long, deep draughts of pure 
 and unmingled delight. I found, too, that there were 
 works of infinite value, full of fancy and of wit, full 
 of instruction and amusement, in other languages be- 
 sides either French, or Greek, or Latin ; and, almost 
 unaided, for my good preceptor knew little of that 
 tongue himself, I made myself a tolerable master of the 
 Italian language, and felt like one who had suddenly 
 discovered a treasure, when the old works of Dante and 
 Boccaccio, and the newer poems of Tasso, fell into my 
 hands. 
 
 Nevertheless, I did not in any degree neglect the 
 usual exercises of which I had formerly been fond. 
 There were always a number of old military retainers 
 about the house, who were willing and eager to teach 
 me everything that could be taught in the profession to 
 which they had devoted themselves. I did not, it is 
 true, follow any study with great regularity, but I fol- 
 lowed all and each with eagerness, zeal, and devotion. 
 
15 
 
 OB, HENRI HE CERONS. 
 
 When the baroness could give me any of her time, 
 she was always the first I sought, and next to her the 
 good minister, La Tour. But he had many duties to 
 perform, and during the part of the day when I could 
 find neither of those friends, I followed with eagerness 
 every sport of the field that w r as going on. Every 
 instruction I could get in military exercises I sought 
 continually, and listened with deep and profound atten- 
 tion both to all that the old officers or soldiers could 
 tell me of discipline and of tactics, and to their tales of 
 terrible sieges, well-fought fields, and marvellous escapes. 
 I was one of the best of auditors, and, flattered by the 
 attention that I paid them, they were always willing to 
 amuse or to instruct me. The court-yard of the castle 
 became the mimic field of battle : the walls, the cisterns, 
 the stable, were the fortifications of a besieged city ; and 
 everything that was at hand was pressed into our ser- 
 vice, either as the animate or inanimate materials of war. 
 A.11 the tales they told were delightful to me, but more 
 especially so were those in which my father’s name was 
 introduced, and in which I always heard deep regrets 
 expressed for his early death, and praises of the prowess 
 and skill which he had displayed as a soldier and a com- 
 mander. 
 
 In the meanwhile the greater part of the servants 
 and retainers of the household treated me merely as 
 the poor dependent : the little services I required were 
 neglected ; any direction that I gave was heard in 
 silence, or replied to with contemptuous lightness ; and, 
 in order to keep myself from the irritation of petty inso- 
 lence, I was obliged to avoid all communication, as far as 
 possible, with the domestics of the chateau. 
 
 In the presence of their mistress, indeed, the servants 
 dared not behave in such a manner, and when her eye 
 was on them they showed me every sort of reverence 
 and respect ; once, also, I remember her rebuking one 
 of the grooms for neglecting my horse, speaking to him 
 in a manner so severe as to work a permanent change in 
 his conduct, and in some degree to affect his companions. 
 
 These slight inconveniences, however, did not in the 
 
16 
 
 THE MAN AT ARMS; 
 
 least depress my spirit or keep down my gaiety. Youth’s 
 buoyant and happy blood beat in every limb, my heart 
 was light, my cheerfulness unchecked; and, though I 
 learned when any one neglected me to punish by a cut- 
 ting word, yet it was always done with light and happy 
 gaiety, and forgotten almost as soon as it was spoken, 
 at least by myself. 
 
 Thus years rolled on, and during the frequent and long- 
 continued absence of my cousin, his children learned to 
 love me with a strong affection; and taking a model 
 from the domestic circle of a neighbouring family, my 
 imagination pictured for me a future fate, like that of 
 a person whom I frequently beheld situated in very 
 similar circumstances. He was at this time a man well 
 advanced in life, and, like me, the cousin of the lord of 
 the castle ; but he had gained considerable renown in 
 arms. The father of the family, who was now withheld 
 from active service by the effects of severe wounds, con- 
 fided to him the leading of his retainers, the children 
 clung to him with reverence and affection, and the two 
 eldest were, even at that very time, trying their first 
 arms under the sword of their veteran cousin. He pos- 
 sessed no property, he sought none ; but he lived with 
 people who reverenced and loved him ; he had his own 
 honoured seat by the hall fire, his tales were listened to 
 and sought for with delight by all, and his counsel or 
 assistance was asked by the father, when any matter of 
 real danger or difficulty arose, by the elder sons in the 
 mysteries of the chase or the mew, and by the younger 
 children in any of the small sorrows or difficulties which 
 were to them as important as wars or sieges. 
 
 I fancied myself, I say, like him : winning renown in 
 arms, gaining a station by my own deeds, and seeing 
 the young beings that I loved so tenderly as babes, 
 grow up around me as round an elder brother. 
 
 But oh, how vainly, how youthfully did I calculate ! 
 My cousin, when he returned to the castle after any of 
 his long absences, had now become harsh and stern. 
 Me he treated with utter neglect and coldness ; he saw 
 me dine at his table without addressing a word to me ; 
 
17 
 
 OB, KENBI DE CEBOHS. 
 
 he met me without any kind gratulation ; lie heard me 
 wish him joy of his return with scarcely an answering 
 word. When he looked at me, it was coldly; and I 
 could not but feel that I was a burthen to him. 
 
 When I was about fifteen years of age, he one morn- 
 ing took the pains to ask what progress I had made in 
 my studies. The question was addressed to Monsieur 
 La Tour, but in my presence. The clergyman replied 
 with high praise — higher, I believe, than I deserved ; and 
 the baron’s reply was, “ Don’t you think you can con- 
 trive to make a priest of him, La Tour?” 
 
 My blood boiled, I confess ; but my cousin turned 
 away without waiting for any reply, having satisfied 
 himself that, by the question he had asked and the sug- 
 gestion he had made, he quite fulfilled his duty towards 
 me, at least for the time. 
 
 I thought, however, of the days when I had sat upon 
 his knee, and when he had said that he would make a 
 little hero of me ; that I should be a Bayard or a Du 
 G-uesclin. 
 
 He was absent after that visit for more than two 
 years; and there were tales reached the chateau of 
 some fair dame in the capital who withheld the baron 
 from his wife, his children, and his duties, and kept him 
 in bonds stronger than the green withs of Delilah. 
 
 The health of the baroness had for some time been 
 declining ; she had now been married ten years ; and of 
 that period she had known a few months, perhaps, of 
 visionary happiness, two or three years of ealm unmur- 
 muring tranquillity, and six or seven of anguish and sor- ( 
 row. Her little girl, Louise, was now nine years of 
 age, the image of her mother in everything, — features, 
 complexion, disposition; there was the difference of 
 course between the woman and the child, but still there 
 was the same small taper hand, the same beautiful foot, 
 the same brilliant complexion, the same clear, open fore- 
 head, the same thoughtful but ingenuous smile. She 
 was with her mother constantly or with me, and it was 
 she who even at that age first discovered the progress 
 of illness in the being she best loved, and pointed out 
 
 2 
 
18 
 
 THE MAIN* AT AEMS ; 
 
 to me the flushed cheek, the bright and glittering eye, 
 the pale lips, and the features daily becoming sharp. 
 
 “ Do you not think, Henri,” she said to me, one day, 
 “that mamma looks ill?” And then she went on to 
 say in what particular it appeared to her that it was so, 
 showing that she had watched her mother’s countenance 
 in a way most strange for a child of her age. 
 
 When my attention was thus called to the subject, I 
 remarked the change also; and I and Louise used to 
 watch with care and anxiety the progress of disease. 
 We neither of us knew, we neither of us fully compre- 
 hended, to what it all tended. It was not exactly fear 
 that we entertained, but it was grief ; we grieved to see 
 her suffer, we grieved to see the languor and weakness 
 that crept over her frame. 
 
 At length the baron returned; but his return con- 
 tributed very little to the restoration of his wife’s health. 
 He brought with him many gay and riotous companions ; 
 the castle was filled with revelry and merriment ; he was 
 absent at the chase or in the city, during the greater 
 part of each day, and the night went down in songs, and 
 mirth, and drinking. He soon went away again to the 
 capital ; and his wife continued withering slowly, like a 
 flower whose day of brightness is over. 
 
 Such was the course of events for some years, till I 
 reached the age of twenty; when the health of the 
 baroness so completely and rapidly gave way, that 
 messengers were sent off in all haste r to call her husband 
 to the side of her death-bed. He came ; and though he 
 came unwillingly, yet he was evidently pained and 
 struck at the sight of the ruin and decay which he now 
 beheld. He was gloomy and sorrowful ; and it might 
 be some consolation to his dying wife to find, that when 
 all was irrevocable, and neither tears nor regrets could 
 recall the past, he mourned for the approaching loss of 
 one whose worth he had not sufficiently estimated ; and 
 experienced feelings of affection towards her, which ho 
 had not known till it was too late. 
 
 The Lady of Blancford died, and the grief of all, good 
 and bad alike, followed her to the grave ; for there was 
 
19 
 
 OS, HENKI DE CEEONS. 
 
 a sweetness, and a gentleness, and a kindness in her 
 nature, which touched the heart even of the selfish and 
 the vicious ; and made them mourn for her, as soon as 
 her virtues were no longer a living reproach to their 
 errors. 
 
 At the time of her death, her daughter and eldest 
 child was little more than twelve years old, the two 
 boys somewhat younger than eleven and ten ; and well 
 might the father, when he looked round upon their 
 young faces, feel that his hearth was left desolate ; well 
 might he regret, in bitterness of heart, that he had not 
 sufficiently valued the blessing he had possessed. 
 
 That he felt such sensations I am perfectly sure, but 
 he felt them with a degree of sullenness as well as 
 sorrow. Conscience lashed him ; but he bore its chas- 
 tisement with obdurate pride, and murmured not at the 
 smart. 
 
 I did not see him for several days after the funeral of 
 his wife ; and, indeed, since his return he had taken 
 scarcely any notice of me, seeming not even to see me. 
 But soon after, I saw his eyes fix upon me, from time to 
 time, with a dull and frowning aspect ; and to bear such 
 cold unkin dness had by this time become a burthen to 
 me, which I was resolved to cast off. The one whom of 
 all others I had loved best from my early days, was now 
 gone ; and though I loved all her children, and especially 
 Louise, who now clung to me as her only prop and stay 
 in her overpowering grief for her mother, yet I felt that 
 I could not endure any longer the proud coldness of 
 my cousin, since the tie between him and me, which 
 his wife’s care and tenderness had afforded, was broken 
 for ever. 
 
 “ I have at least my father’s sword,” I thought ; “ with 
 that he gained his living, and with it will I gain mine.” 
 
 But there was much to be thought of, there was much 
 to be done. “ What course,” I asked myself, “ shall I 
 choose? — what plans shall I pursue?” And much I 
 meditated even these matters, but meditated always 
 alone ; for there was none whom I could consult, none 
 in whom I could confide. To Monsieur la Tour, who 
 
w 
 
 THE MAK AT AEMS } 
 
 loved me as his own son, I would not speak of tha 
 matter at all, for I knew that he would oppose my 
 going; and my cousin himself, of course, I did not 
 choose to consult ; for the proud air of contempt with 
 which he had long treated me, made me feel that his 
 advice would not be such as I could follow without 
 pain ; and any assistance that he offered, could only he 
 an indignity to receive. I was utterly ignorant of the 
 world, and of the world’s ways; and though, perhaps, 
 I was not deficient in natural acuteness, yet life was 
 to me an unknown country, full of thick woods and 
 tangled paths ; without a map to show me the road, or 
 a guide to direct my footsteps aright. 
 
 Although it was now the winter time, and the sere 
 leaves had fallen from the trees, leaving the woods thin 
 and naked, yet it was in the forest which came near to 
 the chateau that I loved to take my way, and dream of 
 my future projects. 
 
 An event, however, occurred one day, which deranged 
 all these plans for the time, and suspended their execu- 
 tion for more than two years. I had gone out as usual 
 on foot, and wandered a considerable way into the wood, 
 when, suddenly, as I was walking up and down, gazing 
 upon the icy bondage of the stream, and the feathery 
 frost upon the rushes and other water-plants, I heard 
 what seemed a loud, but distant cry of distress. 
 
 It struck me instantly that the voice was a familiar 
 one ; and crossing the stream, I rushed on like light- 
 ning, to the spot whence it seemed to proceed. There 
 I found the eldest of my cousin’s sons, Charles, a noble 
 and high-spirited, but somewhat weakly boy, thrown 
 down upon the ground by an immense wolf, whose 
 fangs were fixed in his shoulder. The animal, it seems, 
 had sprung at his throat, and knocked him down by the 
 force of its attack ; but even in falling, the boy, with 
 noble presence of mind, had struck the animal with his 
 dagger, and prevented it from taking the fatal grasp 
 which it sought, and which certainly would have termi- 
 nated his existence before I arrived. 
 
 A loud shout which I gave as I came up, to scare 
 
21 
 
 OB, HENRI HE CERONS. 
 
 the beast as fast as possible from his prey, made the 
 wolf instantly turn upon me with its peculiar, fierce, 
 low howl. 1 had been accustomed, however, to hunt 
 such beasts in those woods for many years'*; and as he 
 rushed upon me, I struck him a violent blow with 
 my sword across the eyes, which almost blinded him, 
 and dashed him down to my feet at once. But, mad 
 with hunger and pain, the beast, even in falling, seized 
 my leg in his fangs, and never let go his hold till he 
 was quite dead. I killed and threw him off as quickly 
 as possible; and then, running to my young cousin, 
 carried him home to the castle without the pause of a 
 moment, although the wound I had received in my leg 
 was extremely painful, and the blood marked my track 
 all the way to the gates. 
 
 The boy was but little hurt, and from his wound no 
 serious consequence arose; mine also was of little im- 
 portance, though it left me lame for several weeks. My 
 cousin, however, on the following morning, thought fit to 
 thank me for the service I had rendered his son ; and at 
 the same time he presented me with some trinkets and 
 jewels, which he said his wife had requested might be 
 given to me, as remembrances of her. There was much 
 coldness and constraint in his manner while he spoke ; 
 and the purpose which I had entertained for some time 
 now broke forth. 
 
 “My lord,” I said, “I thank you for these things, 
 which I shall always keep and value highly in memory 
 of one from whom I have never received anything but 
 benefits and kindness.” 
 
 The baron was turning away, but I added, “ Stay, 
 my lord ; I have yet more to say. It is not often that 
 I trouble you with words, and now shall not make them 
 very lengthy.” 
 
 The baron turned round towards me with evident 
 surprise at my tone and manner, and with some stern- 
 ness, but without the slightest touch of scorn, demand- 
 ing, “ What is it you wish to say ?” 
 
 “ Merely this, sir,” I replied ; “ I have been somewhat 
 too long ft burthen to you. I am now more than twenty 
 
22 
 
 THE MAN AT ARMS; 
 
 years of age, and ought probably to have done before 
 what I intend to do now ; namely, seek my own for- 
 tunes, and endeavour to provide for my own necessities 
 without remaining dependent upon any one. I am 
 perfectly competent, I believe, in every respect, to gain 
 my bread as my father did his. I ask nothing of you 
 in any shape ; and only now seek to inform you that I 
 will leave the chateau to-morrow, with many thanks for 
 the shelter and bread you have afforded me.” 
 
 I never in my life beheld the countenance of my 
 cousin express so much surprise. I saw him waver for a 
 moment, as if he were going to turn and leave me with 
 contempt ; but the grief he had lately suffered, the chas- 
 tening sight of death, and the service which I had ren- 
 dered to his son, gave to a better spirit than that which 
 usually actuated him the predominance for a moment ; 
 and turning round, with a look both mournful and re- 
 proachful, he said, — 
 
 “JNo, Henri, no! do not leave the poor children now. 
 If not for my sake, for their mother’s memory stay with 
 them still for a v r hile. La Tour will also be with you 
 and with them. But he is growing aged, his health is 
 feeble, his life insecure : my own life, God knows when 
 it may end ; and while I am obliged to be absent, and 
 before I have determined what to do with them, I would 
 fain have some kindred blood near. On my return from 
 Paris, which will not be very long, you shall be free to 
 do as you please ; and I will promote your views to the 
 utmost of my power.” 
 
 He spoke with a tone of command which I might 
 have been inclined to resist, had there not been mingled 
 with it a certain degree of confidence and kindness, the 
 value of which was certainly enhanced not a little by its 
 rarity. I made no reply — indeed I had not time; for 
 taking it for granted that I acquiesced, he quitted me 
 immediately. 
 
 A long conversation ensued between him and Mon- 
 sieur La Tour, in which he arranged everything regard- 
 ing the maintenance of his family during his absence, 
 and the proper regulation of the chateau. A portion of 
 
23 
 
 OB, HENBI DE CEBONS. 
 
 the rents were ordered to be paid to the pastor for the 
 expenses of the house ; and the worthy man promised 
 never to quit the family for more than one day. My 
 cousin spoke of me, too, I found : and, according to 
 Monsieur La Tour’s representation, spoke with some 
 kindness. I am inclined to believe, however, that the 
 minister’s representations were the cause of his acting 
 towards me ere he quitted the chateau, I may say more 
 wisely, as well as more kindly, than he had previously 
 done. 
 
 The regulation of all expenses was confided to the 
 clergyman: he received and he paid for everything. 
 But a portion, though a small one, of the sum allowed, 
 was ordered to be given into my hands, to be employed 
 for my own purposes, and for any military repairs or 
 arrangements that I might think requisite in the castle. 
 Two servants, at my choice, were to be considered as my 
 own special attendants ; and the baron himself distinctly 
 announced to the retainers assembled in the public hall, 
 that, in case of peril or attack, from the tide of war 
 rolling in that direction, the supreme command of all 
 things was to rest with me during his absence. 
 
 No sooner had these arrangements been made, than 
 he himself set out again for Paris, promising to return 
 at the end of six months, and leaving an old and faithful 
 attendant of his dead wife as in some sort the governess 
 of his daughter. 
 
 The affection which the baroness had always enter- 
 tained towards me, had communicated itself to the good 
 old servant I have mentioned, Donine le Mery ; and she 
 declared, after the baron was gone, that the greatest 
 consolations she could receive after the death of her 
 mistress, were, first, the promise of her lord that she 
 should remain ever with Mademoiselle Louise, and next 
 to see me have the command of the castle. Whatever 
 she sought, whatever she wished for, the good soubrette 
 came to me to seek it ; and if Louise herself had been 
 inclined to cling to me with all a sister’s affection before 
 her mother’s death, she was now ten times more disposed 
 to do so, when she had no other companion to whom 
 
24 
 
 THE MAN AT ARMS; 
 
 she could pour forth undisguised all her feelings and 
 all her thoughts. Her brothers, younger than herself 
 in age, were still younger in mind ; and her good 
 attendant, though the best of all creatures, was too far 
 below her in education to permit of any interchange of 
 thought between them. 
 
 To me, therefore, the poor girl turned with the full 
 confidence of childhood and unbounded affection. I was 
 the companion of her walks, and of her rides, and of her 
 solitary hours. I remembered her as an infant, I had 
 seen her grow up day by day under my eyes ; time 
 seemed to make no difference ; she was still a mere child 
 in my sight. I looked upon her as a dear but far 
 younger sister ; and I never found that either I myself 
 or any one else could dream there was a possibility such 
 a change could take place in her feelings or in mine, 
 which could be dangerous to the one or to the other. 
 
 The end of the six months came ; but the baron re- 
 turned not, and he did not even hint in his letters that 
 such an event was likely to take place. He said that 
 he had been delayed by various circumstances — that the 
 arrangements he had made in regard to the chateau 
 must continue in force till his coming ; but he men- 
 tioned no period of return, and, in truth, was once more 
 entangled in the meshes of that net from which he had 
 only been withdrawn for a time by the couriers which 
 summoned him to his wife’s death-bed. 
 
 In the meantime the days passed away happily enough. 
 I had gained importance in the eyes of all around me, 
 deference and attention were paid to me by the atten- 
 dants, and had I not been disturbed by the frequent 
 thought that the best season of my life was passing away, 
 that the days of youth were flying by in inactivity when 
 I felt myself formed for action, I could have been well 
 contented there in the society of that sweet girl to whom 
 I was all in all, and of two generous and high-spirited 
 boys who loved me with all the strength and energy of 
 youthful affection. 
 
 A year passed and the baron came not. Louise was 
 now growing up towards womanhood ; the warm blush 
 
25 
 
 OB, HENBI BE CEBOtfS. 
 
 mantled more deeply on lier cheek, her eye gained a 
 brighter lustre, her lip acquired a warmer red ; her 
 mind, too, expanded every hour, as if to keep pace with 
 that fair form, which was each day acquiring additional 
 beauty. 
 
 As she wandered along beside me, her conversation 
 was more imaginative, more full of deep thought ; &nd 
 we talked over a thousand things in which fancy and 
 feeling linked our thoughts together, so as to remain in- 
 separable for ever. There was thus formed for me a 
 store of ideas, in regard to which I have since felt — 
 alas ! how painfully — that they could never be men- 
 tioned, that they could never be alluded to in the 
 slightest manner, without calling up m my bosom the 
 thought of her, of her words, of her looks, of scenes long 
 past, and of departed happiness. Nor, indeed, could it 
 be otherwise with her : we created in fact for ourselves 
 a world of magic aspirations, with a straight and even 
 pathway on which fancy, guided by memory, ran back 
 like lightning from the present to the past. 
 
 We talked of her mother and of the days gone by, and 
 we recalled all her sweetness, and her beauty, and her 
 tenderness towards us both ; and more than once we 
 mingled our tears together, when we recollected all that 
 she had done to win and merit love, and that the 
 eternal barrier had fallen between us and her, shutting 
 us out from all communication with the loved and the 
 departed. We talked of the future and of the world — 
 the wide unknown world open before us both. She 
 spoke of it herself with awe and shuddering, as if she 
 foresaw and would have shrunk from the griefs, and 
 cares, and anxieties before her. Often also we would 
 have recourse to dreams to chase away apprehensions; 
 she would inquire of me what the great capital was like ; 
 and when she found I could in no degree satisfy her, she 
 would apply to fancy and build up an enchanted city 
 from the gay things of her own imagination. 
 
 The bright and glorious universe, too, afforded to both 
 of us a thousand themes for speculation; other lands 
 would rise up before the mind’s eye clothed with bright- 
 
26 
 
 THE MAN AT ABMS ; 
 
 ness not their own ; and when I spoke of Italy or Spain* 
 the vast and beautiful creations of art, a climate of sun- 
 shine, a soil of fertility, and a courteous and friendly 
 people, such as I had read in the vague or the over- 
 charged accounts of travellers, her countenance would 
 glow brightly, her young eye sparkle, and she would wish 
 to be a journeyer through such scenes with people who 
 could love them or admire them like herself. 
 
 Frequently in our ramblings her brothers would 
 accompany us, and during a great part of the morning 
 I was constantly with them, acting, in some degree, the 
 part of their preceptor, or taking a share in those instruc- 
 tions which were communicated to them by masters 
 from the capital of G-uienne. They loved me well, too, 
 and on looking back to that time I can recollect no one 
 feeling in my own bosom — I cannot believe that there 
 was any one in the bosoms of those who surrounded 
 me — the natural tendency of which was calculated to 
 give a moment’s pain to any one of the small but united 
 party which then tenanted the chateau of Blancford. 
 
 Such was the state of all things, till Louise reached 
 the age of fifteen ; and I feel confident that I could have 
 gone on with the same feelings towards her perfectly 
 unchanged, and looking upon her merely as a sister, had 
 not other events interfered which soon separated us 
 from each other 
 
 At this point may be said to end the period of my 
 early life, which — like an old picture painted at first in 
 vivid colours soon loses the brightness of its hues, 
 becomes mellower but less distinct to the eye, then 
 grows gray and dim, and then is almost obscured alto- 
 gether— has now greatly faded away from memory, 
 though the impressions were then as bright and vivid 
 as, perhaps, any that I have received since. 
 
 Two days before the period at which Louise concluded 
 her fifteenth year, messengers from her father, whom 
 they left at no greater distance than Barbesieux, an- 
 nounced his sudden return. ITis letter contained merely 
 intelligence of the fact, that he would be at the chateau 
 of Blancford at supper-time of the ensuing day, I shall 
 
27 
 
 OB, HENRI DE CERONS. 
 
 not easily forget the anxiety with which we all waited 
 for his appearance, the messenger having informed us of 
 more than the letter that he bore, namely, that the baron 
 had wedded another bride, whom he was now bringing 
 home from the capital, where she had remained, while 
 the wife of another, somewhat too long for her own 
 honour, for the baron’s reputation, and for the peace of 
 a husband, whom she speedily ceased to mourn. 
 
 Hitherto I have given but a general view of all that 
 passed during my early years, but I must now give a 
 more minute account of the events that followed ; for, 
 from the day in which my cousin’s new bride set her 
 foot within those doors, my fate underwent a greater 
 change than any to which it had yet been subject. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 It may well be believed that we counted the minutes 
 as the evening of the second day went by. Every one 
 there present felt that there was a booh to be opened 
 before them that night, on the pages of which the future 
 destiny of all was, more or less, distinctly written. The 
 two boys felt it much, but they felt it with some sort of 
 eagerness and some anticipations of pleasure. Old 
 Monsieur La Tour looked grave and thoughtful, as well 
 he might ; for he was the only one there present who 
 was fully aware of the character and previous history 
 of the person about to be added to the domestic circle 
 at Blancford. I had heard something, indeed, but not 
 all ; but to counterbalance any painful reflections, I had 
 the prospect before me of entering upon a new and more 
 active course of being, and fulfilling the destinies to 
 which the spirit within my bosom called me. 
 
 The person who felt the most on the occasion was 
 Louise de Blancford; and nobody could doubt that — 
 though a portion of the happiness of every one there 
 present was in some way to be affected — it was her 
 
28 
 
 THE MAH AT AEMS ; 
 
 whole fate, peace, comfort, and tranquillity, which then 
 trembled in the balance. The boys would soon natu- 
 rally seek the tented field, or plunge into the occupa- 
 tions of the city or the court ; but she was to remain 
 alone, with the happiness of every moment in the hands 
 and at the disposal of another. 
 
 She was at that time as beautiful as a young rose, 
 with a countenance upon which all the emotions of her 
 pure heart traced themselves in an instant, as they arose 
 in her bosom ; and I could see her eye turn towards me 
 from time to time, with an anxious and inquiring glance, 
 which showed me at once the feelings that were going 
 on within, and told me all that she would have asked, 
 although no words were spoken. I did my best to 
 comfort her, and to raise up hope of bright and happy 
 things. Perhaps I did so hypocritically ; but surely it 
 was pardonable, when I found that cheerful moments 
 were passing away, perhaps for ever, to give her as many 
 as I could, till the power of so doing was absolutely 
 taken from me. 
 
 It was a bright and beautiful summer’s evening ; and, 
 going out upon the sloping hill which was crowned by 
 the castle, we looked in the direction where we expected 
 to see the cavalcade appear, and watched anxiously for 
 the first spear-head rising above the distant trees. 
 
 We waited long, however ; the sun descended to the 
 horizon in splendour : the whole sky was rosy with his 
 light ; the very air itself seemed to be filled with purple 
 rays ; and the woods, and villages, and towers around, 
 were all steeped in the same rich and glowing hue. It 
 seemed to speak of hope and bright days to come ; and 
 yet, though we were all young, and under the soft 
 guardianship of kind inexperience, our hearts refused 
 to receive the colouring of the bright scene without; 
 and the sweetness of the evening seemed rather to make 
 us more melancholy, than to raise our expectations. 
 
 The sun went down slowly ; the distant lines of the 
 country assumed the most intense blue ; the last rays of 
 the setting orb poured through a hollow way in the 
 deep masses of the forest, and caught upon a large 
 
29 
 
 OB, HENRI HE CERONS. 
 
 piece of water at the foot of the hill, rendering one part 
 like a sea of liquid gold, while the other remained 
 shadowed by a wood as black as night. The moon, too, 
 was coming up in the western sky, together with a 
 single star, so pure, so soft, so full of pale light, that 
 it seemed like a drop fallen from the eyes of the depart- 
 ing sun. 
 
 Louise’s hand rested sisterly upon my arm ; we gazed 
 upon the glowing west and the deep blue lines beyond ; 
 we gazed upon the pale pure east, with the moon and 
 the stars ; and we gazed upon the golden water, and the 
 shadowy wood, and the higher towers of the castle, 
 partly lighted up, as if on fire, with beams that we could 
 no longer behold, and partly buried in profound shadow. 
 We then turned our eyes upon each other; and oh, how 
 I wished at that moment, that it had been in my power 
 to command the fate of that sweet girl, and by my will 
 alone to insure that she should be happy ! 
 
 At that moment we heard the distant sound of a 
 trumpet ; but it was far, far off*, borne upon the wings of 
 the soft westerly wind. Neither banner, nor spear, nor 
 cavalcade, could be seen as far as the eye could reach ; 
 and after gazing for a few minutes longer, we re-entered 
 the castle, and waited there till we heard the sound of 
 horses coming up the hill. 
 
 All ran down at once from the room where we had 
 been sitting ; Louise and the old clergyman to the great 
 hall, I and my two young cousins to welcome the baron 
 at the drawbridge. He came, accompanied by a long 
 train of retainers, with a carriage and a horse litter, con- 
 taining his new wife and her manifold attendants. The 
 torches and lanterns showed us a countenance much 
 changed since we had last seen him, older in appearance 
 than in reality, thinner and more harsh than ever. There 
 was a heavy frown, too, upon his brow, and it was evi- 
 dent that something had gone wrong on the road. 
 
 To me he spoke but one word, in answer to my in- 
 quiries after his health, and the boys who were pressing 
 round him with the eagerness of natural affection, he 
 pushed roughly away telling them that they encum- 
 
eo 
 
 THE MAlT AT AEMS } 
 
 bered him. He then approached the side of the carriage 
 and handed out the lady, who being of course masked 
 for the journey, did not suffer her face to appear. He 
 led her at once into the hall, where Louise and the old 
 clergyman had remained ; and his daughter, who was the 
 only person that seemed to shrink back from himself and 
 his new wife, was the only one to whom he spoke kindly 
 and tenderly. 
 
 There, sheltered from the wind and with plenty of 
 light around, the lady took off her velvet mask ; and oh ! 
 how every idea which I had previously formed of what 
 her person was like to present, vanished in a single 
 instant! As she lifted that mask .from her face the 
 imagination of memory conjured up in a moment the 
 beautiful form of the first wife, and set it beside the 
 new one. Certainly I had expected to find transcendent 
 beauty in the being who had lured the heart of the 
 husband away from such a lovely and amiable being, 
 and who, after having made her miserable during life, 
 had taken her place when dead. 
 
 The figure of the new baroness was fine, it is true ; 
 tall, commanding, well-proportioned ; but it wanted that 
 soft and easy grace, that flowing symmetry of every line 
 which had distinguished her predecessor, and if there 
 was a difference and inferiority in figure, what was there 
 not in countenance? She was no longer young; the 
 features were large and strongly marked, the eyes bright, 
 indeed, and full of fire, but that was the fire of a harsh 
 and domineering temper ; and they were only softened, 
 if at all, by a look of wanton meaning which sometimes, 
 came across them. The lips were thin and generally 
 closely shut, though the teeth were fine which they 
 concealed ; the chin was rounded, but somewhat pro- 
 jecting; the cheek-bones were high; and the skin, though 
 not brown, was coarse. There was a good deal of colour 
 on the face, so much indeed, that I should have sup- 
 posed it not altogether natural, had it not been roughly 
 scattered over the cheek with a sort of mottled appear- 
 ance, which convinced me that art had no share in 
 placing it there. The hair was fine and luxuriant, 
 
31 
 
 OR, HEKRT BE CERONS. 
 
 although she had passed her prime, and her hand was 
 large and somewhat coarse, though much pains had 
 been taken to keep it soft and white. 
 
 She gazed at Louise from head to foot, with a look of 
 scrutiny, and apparently some surprise. 
 
 “You told me that she was a girl, a mere child,” the 
 lady said, addressing the baron, as he introduced his 
 daughter to her. “ Why, this is a woman ! ” 
 
 “ She was a child when I left her, madam,” replied 
 the baron, “ and you may see that she is a child in heart 
 still, by the blushes which your words called up.” 
 
 “ She looks all the prettier for them,” replied the 
 baroness ; “ but I must teach her not to be such a 
 spendthrift, and to reserve them for occasions when they 
 will have some effect. And pray who is this young 
 gentleman ? ” she proceeded, turning towards me while 
 that meaning look came up in her eyes. “Not your 
 eldest son, I suppose, my lord, for he was only twelve 
 years old when last I heard of him, and he has not 
 probably made such a rapid jump as the young lady. If 
 he have, he has gotten him goodly limbs in a short time.” 
 And she ran her eyes over me with the same unblushing 
 effrontery with which she had gazed upon Louise. 
 
 “This, madam,” replied the baron, bitterly, “is a 
 cousin of mine, Henri de Cerons, son of another cousin, 
 Henri de Cerons, who has done me the honour of living 
 in my house for the last twenty years.” 
 
 The blood came up into my cheeks as I heard him 
 speak. “I have been, madam,” I said, taking up the 
 words immediately, “ a poor pensioner upon my cousin’s 
 bounty since the period that he speaks of. It was then 
 that the death of my noble father left me dependent, 
 with nothing but a sword, which he had rendered glo- 
 rious, for my future fortune.” 
 
 “ It proved but a poor fortune to him,” replied my 
 cousin, frowning at me, “ and you have suffered it 
 somewhat to rust in the scabbard, methinks, Master 
 Henri.” 
 
 “ At your own request, for the last two years, my 
 /ord,” I replied; “and it shall do so no longer.” 
 
32 THE MAH AT AEMS* 
 
 I was going to add more, though I saw that the baron’s 
 mood was becoming every moment more and more fierce. 
 But the eyes of both at that moment fell upon Louise, 
 and we beheld the tears running through her long eye- 
 lashes, and down her cheeks. 
 
 “Come, come, no more, no more,” he said; “let us 
 drop such subjects, and not make the evening bitter. 
 Madam, I will show you your apartments. Supper, 
 I hope, will soon be ready.” 
 
 “And the baron in a better humour,” said the lady, 
 giving a sarcastic look round as she swept up the hall 
 after him. 
 
 We left her lord and the attendants to show her the 
 way ; and the five who had tenanted the castle before 
 her coming remained behind in the hall, gazing upon 
 each other, while memory again drew a comparison 
 between the present and the past, the most painful, the 
 most bitter that it is possible to conceive. No one spoke; 
 the sensations in the heart of every one were too dark 
 and sad for us to give them utterance, and before a word 
 was uttered the baron had returned. 
 
 How the cheerful meal of the supper passed over that 
 night in the chateau at Blancford, may be easily con- 
 ceived, for the same spirit which had marked the return 
 of the lord of that castle to his dwelling, pervaded the 
 whole conversation. Why or how he had been induced to 
 wed the woman whom he had brought thither, might be 
 difficult to say; but it was very evident that, where there 
 could never have been any esteem, there now remained 
 no affection. We were all silent but the lord and lady 
 of the house, except when from time to time good 
 Monsieur la Tour endeavoured to break the restraint by 
 a word upon some ordinary subject, or when I replied to 
 him, which act seemed not a little to create the baron’s 
 surprise that I should presume to converse in his pre- 
 sence. 
 
 When the meal was over, the lady declared she was 
 fatigued, and retired speedily to rest. Louise followed ; 
 and, as there was now no cheerful circle gathered toge- 
 ther in the evening to converse over the events of the 
 
OB, HET5TEI DE CEEONS. 
 
 33 
 
 day, I was also about to retire very soon; but the 
 baron stopped me, saying he wished to speak to me, 
 with a sort of dull leaden look about his eyes, which 
 he put on when he wanted to assume an air of despotic 
 rule, and to announce his purpose in such a way as to 
 admit of no reply. 
 
 The clergyman also stayed ; and, turning to me, the 
 baron said, “ It is time, my fair cousin, if we may judge 
 by the specimens which you have given us to-night of 
 your conversational powers, that you should find your- 
 self a new home.” 
 
 “ I am not only quite ready, my lord,” I replied, “ but 
 fully determined to do so as speedily as may be.” 
 
 “ It may be very speedily, indeed, then,” replied the 
 barou, “for I have already arranged the whole matter 
 for you. You will be pleased to set out to-morrow 
 morning for the town of Pau, in Bearn ; and I will fur- 
 nish you with letters to the Protestant clergyman a 
 that place, who will put you in the proper way so to 
 complete your education in the college as to become, I 
 trust, a worthy member of our church. — Nay, hear me, 
 hear me to the end. Your maintenance and the ex- 
 penses of your studies, till the period of your taking 
 orders, will be borne by myself, provided your conduct 
 is such as to justify my kindness. And having done 
 this, I think I have fulfilled to the utmost the promises 
 which I was induced to make to your late father.” 
 
 “ Your lordship has informed me before now,” I re- 
 plied, “ that it was my father’s wish that I should be a 
 soldier, and pursue the profession which all my race 
 have followed. You informed me once, also, that you 
 had promised him it should be so, and that you would 
 place me in that course where he had won glory.” 
 
 “ Of course, sir,” replied the baron, frowning fiercely 
 upon me, “ all such promises were conditional, as were 
 also his requests. He left your fate to my discretion, 
 and did not dictate to me how I was to deal with the boy 
 whom I brought up from charity.” 
 
 The words were galling enough, but I struggled hard 
 
 3 
 
34 
 
 THE MAH AT ABMS ; 
 
 to keep down the demon of pride — a demon which had 
 endured enough surely to quell him in my heart. 
 
 I therefore replied at once, “ My father’s wishes, my 
 lord, I am perfectly aware, can be no law to you. To 
 me, however, they would be a law, even did not my own 
 inclinations second them. It is my determination, 
 therefore -” 
 
 “ Hush, hush !” said the good clergyman ; “ hush, my 
 dear Henri. Do not speak of your determination ; but 
 leave it to your cousin to take into consideration the 
 motives that you have mentioned.” 
 
 “ Leave him to his own obstinate folly, La Tour,” 
 replied my cousin, turning from me. “ I have told him 
 all that I will do. I have made him what may well be 
 considered a noble offer. I give him till to-morrow to 
 think of it ; and, if he do not accept it, then I will drive 
 him from my door like an ungrateful hound, and send 
 him forth a beggar to the fate he deserves.” 
 
 Thus saying, he turned and abruptly quitted the hall ; 
 while I remained, as may well be conceived, fully deter- 
 mined never to eat bread again at the expense of such a 
 man. I remained thoughtful and silent for a moment, 
 while La Tour gazed with interest and anxiety in my 
 face, and at last asked me, “ What do you intend to do, 
 Henri?” 
 
 “ To keep my resolution, excellent friend,” I replied. 
 “ You cannot suppose that such words as I have heard 
 can at all shake my purpose ?” 
 
 “ But consider, my dear boy,” replied the clergyman, 
 “you are utterly without means of support. I fear, 
 Henri, that you do not know how little is to be gained 
 in the barren field of war ; and, at all events, you will 
 be obliged at first to support yourself till you can re- 
 ceive pay.” 
 
 “ It matters not, my good friend,” I replied ; “ I should 
 lose my own esteem for ever — my heart would have no 
 strength to struggle with the world, if I let this man set 
 his foot upon it again.” 
 
 The clergyman said nothing more to change my pur* 
 
35 
 
 OB, HENRI HE CERONS. 
 
 pose, for he saw that it was unchangeable; but he 
 answered, “ At all events, then, Henri, take what little 
 gold I have. I need it not, my boy ; and I have always 
 the means of support. You will not mind taking it 
 from me.” 
 
 “I will not take it all,” I replied, kissing his hand; 
 “ but to show you how willingly I can bend my pride to 
 depend upon one that loves me, I will take twenty gold 
 crowns from you; and that shall be the fortune with 
 which I go forth into the world. I have, indeed, nearly 
 treble that sum in my own chamber, but that belongs to 
 a man from whom I will take nothing ; so that you shall 
 give it to him to-morrow, after I am gone.” 
 
 “ Do you go early, then ?” demanded the clergyman, 
 looking anxiously upon me. 
 
 “ As early as possible,” I replied ; and he then told me 
 that he would bring the money to my little room. 
 
 Thither I now turned my steps, and the good clergy- 
 man soon followed. He gave me the sum I had agreed 
 to take from his little store, and pressed upon me more, 
 which I would not accept. He sought also to persuade 
 me that I had every right to keep the money which the 
 baron had allowed me ; but on that score my mind was 
 made up, and I would hear no arguments. 
 
 A long conversation then ensued, and La Tour added 
 many wise counsels and noble precepts to many which 
 had gone before. I treasured them in my mind ; and, 
 if I have not always followed them exactly, in the strife 
 of passion and the assault of temptation, at all events 
 everything that has been good in my conduct, or esti- 
 mable in my character, I owe first to the sweet influence 
 of her who so tenderly cultivated my youth, and next, to 
 the counsels and exhortations of that good man. 
 j It was nearly one o’clock in the morning when he left 
 me ; and then I sat down to consider what should be my 
 next step. 
 
 What were the baron’s habits now I knew not ; but 
 him I was resolved to see no more. All the rest of the 
 family, however, were generally up not long after day- 
 break ; and if I remained, I knew that there must be a 
 
86 
 
 THE MAN AT ABMS ; 
 
 bitter parting both with Louise and with the boys; 
 most likely an angry parting, also, with the baron, and 
 perhaps the pain of seeing the expression of his chil- 
 dren’s love for me call down his wrath upon them. 1 
 thought of it all, and determined to suffer alone, as far 
 as might be. 
 
 I made all my preparations in haste ; took with me a 
 few jewels and trinkets which I inherited from my 
 mother, and those the baroness had given me ; packed 
 up the necessary clothes which I intended to carry away ; 
 destroyed many a memorial of the place and its inha- 
 bitants, which I did not choose to have exposed to the 
 harsh eyes of the baron, or the impure ones of his new 
 wife; and, only preserving some little things in the 
 handwriting of poor Louise, I prepared to take my de- 
 parture for ever from the dwelling which I had so long 
 inhabited. 
 
 As I stood upon the threshold, intending to waken 
 one of the grooms, whom I had chosen, at the time the 
 baron had last visited the castle, to attend upon me, 
 having occasion for some one to carry my valise to the 
 next cabaret, a thousand recollections of the place, sweet, 
 and happy, and affectionate, crowded upon my heart ; a 
 thousand gloomy images of the future rose up before my 
 eyes ; Hope hung down her torch, as if its light had 
 been extinguished ; and Memory strove to bind me te 
 that past, from which I was tearing myself away. 
 
 I looked round the little room which I had inhabited, 
 and every object that my eye fell upon acquired an 
 interest that it had never acquired before. The dreams 
 of childhood, the thoughts of other years, the figures of 
 some long gone, came back in crowds, and tenanted the 
 apartment ; and my heart would have broken if I had 
 not wept. 
 
 My tears were quickly dried, however ; and I went to 
 wake the boy, and tell him of my purpose. I found him 
 in so sound a sleep that I could hardly wake him ; and 
 after he was roused he gazed round him stupidly for a 
 moment, as if he did not well comprehend what I meant. 
 The next instant, however, he sprang up with alacrity, 
 
87 
 
 OB, HENRI HE CERONS. 
 
 and cast on his clothes. We went together to bring the 
 valise from my room, and then waiting till we heard the 
 guard (for we were still in a state of war) going round 
 to the front gate, we descended quietly by the little 
 staircase, and passed through the court. 
 
 As all the military arrangements in the castle had 
 been, for the last two years, in my hands alone, the 
 gates were thrown open at my first word. The men 
 looked surprised, it is true ; but they did not presume 
 to ask any questions, or to make any observations, at 
 least in my hearing ; and issuing out of the chateau 
 about two in the morning, I stood upon Blancford Lee, 
 prepared to seek my future fortunes with my own 
 hand. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 There were still some sad feelings in my heart which 
 would not be driven forth ; but, nevertheless, I struggled 
 hard against them, and the natural hopefulness of youth 
 was beginning to do its part, so far, at least, that I could 
 find some sources of consolation in the aspect of the 
 world around me. The moon was just going down, 
 appearing large and red, through a light haze upon the 
 edge of the horizon. The stars over head were light, 
 but they were far, far distant, seeming to my fancy like 
 some of the bright imaginations of early youth, brilliant, 
 but unattainable. I looked to the eastern sky, however, 
 and there, upon the very edge of the horizon, was a faint, 
 glimmering light, the first announcement of the distant 
 dawning. There seemed to me to be hope and promise 
 in that very sight. 
 
 “ I may be covered with darkness and night,” 1 said 
 to myself, “ but the day will certainly come at length ; 
 and, whether it be fair or bad, it too will pass away.” 
 
 It is the nature of man to trust in auguries; they 
 have been found in the flight of birds, or in the entrails 
 
38 
 
 THE MAN AT ASMS; 
 
 of the sacrifice. Let me find promises or threatenings 
 in the various aspects of nature, where the hand of the 
 Almighty has marked His will ; and, in the course of 
 one train of events, has often pointed out what must be 
 the course of another. 
 
 As I walked along, I did what few young men on 
 their outset in life think fit to do — I considered delibe- 
 rately and carefully what was to be the general tone of 
 my demeanour, what the general plan of my conduct in 
 the path that lay before me. I considered how I stood 
 towards the world that I was about to enter ; looked at 
 the vulnerable points in my nature ; considered where I 
 was most likely to be attacked, and how I might best 
 defend myself. I had arrived at an age when the human 
 intellect is in full strength ; I had much acquaintance 
 with books, and my mind, therefore, was not enfeebled 
 for want of exercise. I had every power of looking into 
 my own heart, guiding, guarding, and directing myself, 
 which any other man at the same age possesses. But 
 where I was deficient was in knowledge of the world, 
 and of my fellow-men ; and here I felt that I was utterly 
 ignorant, and without experience. 
 
 I had, indeed, had some little dealings with mankind 
 during the last two or three years ; but that had only 
 served to confirm a fact which books before had taught 
 me, — that, in general, man looks upon himself but as a 
 human shark, whose great object it must ever be to seize 
 upon and devour the unwary. 
 
 In order, then, at once to conceal and defend my weak 
 point, till it could be remedied by knowledge and ob- 
 servation, was one part of my determination. But 
 there were other things to be considered ; and I made 
 up my mind as to the general conduct I was to pursue 
 before I reached the first village inn. To be honest and 
 true, daring and firm, was of course the foundation of 
 all; but, in order to prevent those with whom I was 
 likely to have dealings from perceiving my ignorance of 
 the world, I made up my mind to put a guard upon my 
 lips ; to affect a light and jesting tone, in order to con- 
 ceal deeper feelings : to assume that perfect indifference 
 
OB, HENBI DE CEEOKS. 
 
 39 
 
 to all things, which I had already learned was a natural 
 consequence of that experience which I did not possess*; 
 and, repressing every expression either of surprise, 
 pleasure, or grief, to be in some degree a stoic externally, 
 and never to lay open my heart to any persons, till I had 
 tried them long and deeply. 
 
 To execute such a resolution may appear more diffi- 
 cult than to form it ; but there were many things which 
 rendered the enterprise more easy to me than it would 
 have proved to other men. My natural character was 
 gay and light, not easily repressed, with a large share of 
 hope, and a fearlessness of consequences, which gave me 
 a great command over my own actions, and over those of 
 others. The pitiful neglect and want of respect with 
 which my cousin’s servants had treated me, as soon as 
 another heir had appeared in his house, had taught me 
 to assume a tone of indifferent contempt, when the 
 occasion served, which now stood me in great stead ; and 
 the very feelings of grief and in dignation which were at my 
 heart, by giving me matter to dwell upon in my own bosom, 
 rendered me more careless of all that passed without. 
 
 Such, then, were my resolutions, and my means of 
 accomplishing them, as far as the government of myself 
 was concerned; but there were many other things, of 
 course, to be thought of, — with whom I was to take 
 service ; how I was to shape my course to join the 
 army; how I was to obtain the necessary arms and 
 equipments ; for, following the determination I had 
 before made, not to take anything from the castle but 
 that which absolutely belonged to myself, I had left 
 behind both the horses which had been given to me for 
 my use, and the arms in which I had exercised myself 
 since I was a boy, with the exception of the sword and 
 dagger that I usually wore, and a rich knife, with a hilt 
 and a sheath of gold, inlaid with jewels, which my father 
 had brought from the East, when warring against the 
 Turks, in former days. 
 
 On the first point — how I was to join the army — 
 many difficulties existed. The short peace which had 
 been granted to the Protestants had now been some 
 
40 
 
 THE MAN AT ABMS ; 
 
 months ftt an end, and the third war of religion had 
 already begun. The principal forces of the Huguenots 
 were assembled in the neighbourhood of Kochelle, and a 
 considerable distance remained to be traversed, before 1 
 could hope to fall in with the army. 
 
 While I was considering all these things the eastern 
 sky became somewhat brighter, and the faint pink of the 
 morning air afforded sufficient light to see all the objects 
 distinctly. I had taken my way towards Bordeaux, as 
 the first great town where I could hope to obtain any 
 information, and had walked on rapidly, while the boy, 
 carrying on his shoulder the valise with which I had 
 charged him, trudged on in perfect silence by my side, 
 without making the slightest inquiry as to the end 
 or object of my journey, or where he himself was 
 going. 
 
 I had chosen him, indeed, from the rest of the ser- 
 vants, when I was permitted to select two of them to 
 attend upon me, principally because he had always shown 
 both respect and attachment towards me, but scarcely 
 less, because there was a degree of similarity between 
 his fate and my own ; his father having been killed at the 
 battle of St. Denis, and he left an orphan to the care of 
 strangers. He was now a stout active youth of about 
 nineteen, somewhat variable in his mood, occasionally 
 loquacious, but more frequently quite the reverse ; 
 replying with a sharp, quick word, observing keenly all 
 that passed, and having much shrewd sense under a 
 somewhat dull and boorish exterior. On the present 
 occasion, however, his taciturnity had been even more 
 marked than usual. When I had roused him, at first 
 he had looked at me with some wonder, but he had 
 not said a word since, doing exactly as I bade him in 
 profound silence. 
 
 At the distance of about two miles from the chateau 
 of Blancford, we reached the first village which boasted 
 such a thing as an auberge ; and there I had proposed to 
 make the lad put down the valise, and, getting some one 
 else to carry it forward with me, to give him some small 
 pieces of money as a parting gift, and send him back. 
 
41 
 
 OB, HENB1 DE CEKOtfS. 
 
 On entering the village, however, we found that no one 
 was yet up, and though there was written over the door 
 of the inn, “ Here lodge travellers on foot. A dinner 
 six sous. A bed eight sous. Come in and try!” the 
 closed door belied the hospitable invitation, and I was 
 somewhat puzzled how to proceed. 
 
 “ I suppose I must wait till they get up, Andriot,” I 
 said. “ So you can put down the valise and return to 
 the castle. I shall find somebody up presently to carry 
 it on to Bordeaux for me.” 
 
 “ I can carry it on, sir,” he said ; “ they’ll be an hour 
 before they’re up, and I don’t see why you should get 
 an inn-boy while you’ve your own man.” 
 
 “ Alas ! my good Andriot,” I said, “ you can be my 
 own man no longer. I am too poor a gentleman to 
 afford attendance upon me, and you had better go back 
 at once, lest any review of the servants should be made 
 at the chateau, and the baron should be angry at your 
 absence.” 
 
 “The baron may be angry once,” said the lad; “but 
 he’ll not be angry any more than once with me, at 
 least; for we all saw and heard enough last night to 
 make me very glad when I found you were going. No, 
 no, sir ; I have been your servant for two years, and 
 not the baron’s ; and the chateau of Blancford is no 
 more a home for me, if you are not there.” 
 
 “ But think awhile, my good Andriot,” I replied ; “ it 
 is utterly impossible for me either to pay you any wages 
 or to support you. I go forth with scarcely the means 
 of supporting myself till I reach the army. I seek for- 
 tune there as a common soldier, and may not even 
 obtain, for aught I know, the means of gaining bread 
 for myself with my own sword. Me, therefore, you 
 cannot accompany ; and you must remember how many 
 chances there are in these troublous times against your 
 obtaining any situation at all comparable to that which 
 you may still hold in the chateau of Blancford.” 
 
 “ I have thought of all that you say, sir,” he replied, 
 “ as we came along ; for it is always right to think well 
 what one is about, after one has taken a resolution. I 
 
42 
 
 THE MAtf AT AEMS ; 
 
 took mine an hour or two ago. When you first roused 
 me I was half asleep, and didn’t understand what you 
 meant. But then, again, as soon as both my eyes were 
 open I understood the whole, for I had thought to 
 myself when I went to bed, that if what the baroness’s 
 groom had said about the baron and you was true, you 
 would not stay in the castle much after daylight ; so I 
 made up my mind in a moment, as soon as I found that 
 you were going. As to wages, I owe you three weeks’ 
 service, for you paid me a month in advance last Mon- 
 day ; then, as for food, I have taken care to have all the 
 money that you ever gave me in my pocket, to the last 
 sou ; then, besides that, I have got three crowns of the 
 sun, and two livres Tournois, which were brought me by 
 Sampson the squire, from my poor father, when he was 
 killed at St. Denis. So you see, sir, I have plenty to 
 keep me for a year ; and, as for the rest, if you are 
 going to seek your fortune, I do not see why I should 
 not go and seek mine with you.” 
 
 “ Well, them Andriot,” I replied with a smile, which I 
 could not refrain, at his using arguments for following 
 me, which were so like the reasons that existed in my 
 own bosom for my own conduct — “ if such be your 
 resolution, take up the valise and let us go on. What 
 you do is your voluntary act, and at any time that you 
 think fit to leave me, you shall do so ; so pray Heaven 
 send you soon a wealthier master, and one that can 
 reward you for your fidelity.” 
 
 “ I hope to Heaven it may be so, sir,” replied the 
 youth ; “and I don’t suppose you’ll be long before you 
 bave some piece of good luck. Fortune gets tired of 
 troubling a man that cares little about her ; and I have 
 heard old Jansen, the Jew merchant, say that luck 
 changes at five-and-twenty, at fifty, and at seventy-five, 
 if a man but lives so long.” 
 
 Thus saying, he once more lifted the valise; and I 
 then perceived, for the first time, that he had strapped 
 on it a little packet of his own goods and chattels ; 
 which showed that his resolution had, as he said, been 
 taken before he quitted the chateau. 
 
48 
 
 OB, HENRI DE CERONS. 
 
 On approaching the gates of Bordeaux, it became 
 necessary to determine to what inn we should go. My 
 meagre finances did not permit of my lodging, for even 
 a day, at any of the expensive auberges of the Gascon 
 capital; and I bethought me that Andriot, born and 
 brought up in that neighbourhood, was much more 
 likely to be acquainted with the inferior inns than my- 
 self. I therefore consulted him upon the subject, and 
 he replied at once : — 
 
 “ Oh ! sir, go to the little inn kept by Jacques de 
 Cannes, called the Soleil Levant, at the end of the Bue 
 de Minimes. It is a poor place, but you will have 
 plenty of Protestant news there, and you will get a 
 good dinner for a small sum. In the evening, when you 
 have settled all, we can go on to Carbon Blanc, or 
 perhaps to Cubzac.” 
 
 a ¥e could not have a more auspicious name, 1 ’ I re- 
 plied, “ than the rising sun, Andriot ; and see where the 
 sun is indeed rising, and with as bright an aspect as one 
 could desire.” 
 
 Andriot instantly pulled off his cap towards the east, 
 with as much apparent reverence as ever did Persian to 
 the rising orb of day. “ Send us good luck, monseig- 
 neur, ” he said, addressing the sun; and then, with a 
 gay laugh, full of careless hope and light-hearted cheer- 
 fulness, he followed my steps, and in a quarter of an 
 hour we were in the town of Bordeaux. 
 
 The doors of the Soleil Levant were by this time wide 
 open, and it was evident by the joyous welcome given 
 to Andriot, that it was not the first time that he had set 
 his foot within those walls. I had just time to tell him 
 that it might be prudent, for the time being, not to 
 mention my name, when we were surrounded by half- 
 a-dozen of his old friends and companions, who led us 
 both into the little hall, where breakfast was in active 
 preparation for those guests who had passed the night 
 at the house. Only one of these, however, had as yet 
 appeared; and he was seated at that one of the two 
 tables the room contained, which was nearest to the 
 window that looked into the street. He was so placed, 
 
44 
 
 THE MAN AT ABMS ; 
 
 however, in the corner of the hall, that he could see 
 the passengers who went by, without being remarked 
 himself; and though I had passed the windows but a 
 moment before, I had not perceived that there was any- 
 body in the room. 
 
 According to the hint that I had given to Andriot, he 
 merely informed Jacques de Cannes that I was a gen- 
 tleman adventurer seeking my fortune as a soldier, with 
 whom he had taken service, being sick of his late employ 
 in the chateau de Blancford. This was said after I had 
 taken a step or two forward towards the table, and just 
 loud enough for me to hear. The worthy aubergiste 
 answered in the same tone, demanding with an expres' 
 sive nod, “ He is one of our people of course ? ” 
 
 “I should not be with him,” replied the lad, “if he 
 were not.” And the aubergiste rejoining, in a somewhat 
 lower tone, “ Perhaps I can tell him where he is likely 
 to find service by and by,” left us to seek the bason o: 
 soup which, with half a loaf and a small bottle of very 
 good wine, was our allotted breakfast. 
 
 Seating myself at the same table, while Andriot took 
 his place a little further down, I waited patiently for the 
 arrival of my mess ; giving from time to time a glance 
 towards the previous occupant of the room, who was 
 busily engaged in emptying the contents of his own 
 bowl, and, apparently, taking very little notice of what 
 was passing around him. As far as I could see, he was 
 a good-looking man, somewhat below forty years of age, 
 broad and powerfully made, with hair not red, but of a 
 light glossy brown, curling round his brow with flowing 
 and graceful waves. The moustaches which he wore upon 
 his upper lip were very thick and long, but lighter even 
 in colour than his hair. The features were good, with- 
 out being strikingly handsome ; but when he opened his 
 mouth, the expression of his whole face was injured by 
 the want of three of his front teeth. There was a scar 
 or two on other parts of his countenance which bespoke 
 the soldier ; and one of his hands, which rested some- 
 what listlessly on the table, while he ate his soup with 
 the other, was disfigured by a large round scar on the 
 
45 
 
 OB, HENBI DE CEBONS. 
 
 back, and seemed to have been penetrated either by a 
 spear or a ball. He ate his bread with his soup, but 
 drank no wine till he had done; he then, however, 
 nearly filled his cup, and, after having drunk it, looked 
 up, saying, with a slight foreign accent, “ Good wine in 
 these parts. Are you of this country, young gentleman? ” 
 “ No,” I replied (for I was born on the banks of the 
 Loire) ; and having satisfied myself by speaking the 
 simple truth in one monosyllable, I took no further 
 notice till he said, “ And yet yours is a Gascon accent, 
 it seems to me.” 
 
 “ And yours a Scotch one,” I replied. 
 
 “ Well hit, my young falcon,” replied the stranger, in 
 a light tone ; “ you follow the game true.” 
 
 “As every one should do,” I replied; not a little 
 doubtful of the character of my worthy companion, and 
 answering no more than was absolutely necessary. The 
 stranger, however, was not so easily to be frustrated; 
 and he returned to the charge about my Gascon accent. 
 
 “ Some birds,” he said, “ have a rare skill in deceiving 
 their pursuers. I should not marvel still, if Guyenne 
 had been your birth-place.” 
 
 “ You could not wish me better,” I answered. 
 
 “No, nor a shrewder wit, you think,” he said ; “ how- 
 ever, I give you good morning.” 
 
 And taking up his hat which lay beside him, he 
 finished his small bottle of wine, and moved towards the 
 door. 
 
 At that moment Jacques de Cannes was coming in 
 with a bowl of soup for Andriot, and the stranger 
 stopped him for a minute or two, saying something that 
 we did not hear. The aubergiste replied in the same low 
 voice, and the stranger, turning away, added aloud, “ Not 
 till I have seen him again, Maitre Jacques.” 
 
 After putting down the pottage for Andriot, the good 
 aubergiste came up to me, and bending down his head, 
 he said, “ You are seeking service in arms, I think, 
 seigneur; you could not trust to any one better than 
 that gentleman who has just gone out. He is an old 
 soldier and a good one, and as staunch a Protestant as 
 
46 
 
 THE MAN AT ARMS; 
 
 ever lived. But he will be back here to dinner, and if 
 you like to talk to him about your views, he will most 
 likely get you service.” 
 
 My heart beat at the offer, I must confess, but yet, 
 pursuing my cautious determinations, I was resolved 
 neither to trust aubergiste nor stranger too far; and 
 although I awaited with some impatience for the return 
 of the latter, I schooled myself during the whole time 
 of his absence, lest by too great heat I should show 
 my own ignorance and inexperience, and fall into some 
 snare. 
 
 About twenty minutes before the hour appointed for 
 dinner, the stranger again entered the hall as I was 
 holding one more consultation with Andriot upon what 
 was the next step to be taken. Andriot had been 
 greatly smitten with the stranger’s appearance, and he 
 now assured me with so many asseverations, that good 
 J acques de Cannes was one of the most excellent and 
 serviceable men in France, that it was scarcely possible 
 to doubt that he was well informed of the fact. Indeed, 
 he added, a moment before the stranger made his appear- 
 ance, that the worthy aubergiste stood in the near con- 
 nection with himself of a second cousin. Why he had 
 not told me this at first I do not know ; but it certainly 
 did not in any degree diminish my confidence in the good 
 landlord, to hear that he was related to one who had 
 served me well and faithfully for two years. 
 
 “ Then I may take his word fully as to the stranger’s 
 character, Andriot ? ” I said ; “ for I’m sure your cousin 
 would tell me no falsehood.” 
 
 The youth was replying eagerly, when the stronger, 
 as I have said, entered, and taking oft" his hat, ap- 
 proached the place where I stood. I had now abetter 
 view of him than before, and saw that he was as power- 
 ful in body, as I had been led to think was the case by 
 the mere sight of his head and shoulders. He was 
 graceful, too, and had the air of a gentleman, though his 
 clothes were somewhat coarse, and displayed none of 
 the ordinary colours affected by that rank, -The scabbard 
 of his sword, however, was of velvet, and the weapon 
 
OK, HENRI HE CERONS. 47 
 
 was thrown so much back across his loins, that it was 
 impossible for him to see the hilt. This was almost a 
 certain sign, at that time, in France, of one who prided 
 himself upon his birth, though the custom has now 
 greatly changed, and we wear our swords almost straight 
 upon the thigh. 
 
 “I am glad to find you here, young gentleman,” he 
 said ; “ and, if I may propose such a thing, we will ask 
 Maitre Jacques to give us our dinner in some little room 
 apart, that we may talk over matters which may interest 
 you to hear/’ 
 
 1 thought of my small store of money, and of the 
 additional expense which I might be led into; but it 
 seemed that this was a lucky chance which had befallen 
 me, and I determined not to throw it away. I accord- 
 ingly assented, and we mounted into a chamber on the 
 second floor, where a dinner, which, though certainly 
 not equal to those of the chateau, was by no means bad, 
 was soon set before us, and Maitre Jacques retired to 
 serve his ordinary guests below. 
 
 “Well, sir/’ said the stranger, as soon as we had 
 helped ourselves and begun, “ I understand your whole 
 situation as well as if I had heard it.” 
 
 “ Which probably you have,” I replied, in the dry tone 
 that I had determined to maintain. 
 
 “ No, upon my honour,” replied the other. “ I’ll tell 
 you how it all comes about, and you shall say whether 
 1 am right or wrong. First, then, and foremost, I see 
 a gentleman of good manners and deportment, followed 
 by a servant carrying a valise, very much better dressed 
 than myself, come into an inn for travellers on foot. 1 
 hear he has no horses with him, and he sits down to 
 eat his soup and drink his wine, for which he pays three 
 sous altogether, with a lace upon his pourpoint which 
 cost at the very lowest twenty sous in all. From all 
 this one gathers that, on some account or another — 
 whether it be a duel, or whether it be any other cause — 
 this gentleman does not wish the path he has chosen to 
 be tracked, and perhaps is in some need by accidental 
 circumstances, of money or employment* The landlord 
 
48 THE MAH AT ABMS ; 
 
 of the inn tells me that he is seeking military service, 
 and is on his way even now to join Conde, or the 
 Admiral, or Andelot. I, therefore, conclude that he is 
 willing to serve against those butchers who have been 
 massacring the poor Protestants throughout Prance. 
 There is nothing very miraculous in all this. Am I not 
 right ?” 
 
 “ In general you are,” I replied ; “ but let me ask, 
 how is this to affect my acquaintance with you?” 
 
 “Why I will tell you in a moment,” replied the 
 stranger, in the same frank tone. “ I happen at this 
 moment to be engaged in the same cause, amongst the 
 soldiers of which you are seeking service. I know that 
 every man in the monarchy is wanted ; and I wish both 
 to give you such information as may enable you to join 
 the army with all speed, and urge you to do so without a 
 moment’s delay.” 
 
 “ I propose hastening towards the Bochelle as fast as 
 possible,” I replied. 
 
 “Bochelle!” he exclaimed, with a laugh; “why, my 
 good young friend, you must have been living in some 
 hermitage, where the news of what is passing in the 
 world penetrates but rarely. The Protestants are no 
 longer at Bochelle. Conde and the admiral have ad- 
 vanced, the Lord knows how far, up the Loire, and 
 Andelot himself has been at blows with Martigues far 
 beyond Saumur.” 
 
 My countenance fell as he spoke ; for if my finances 
 had been barely sufficient to carry me scantily to Bo- 
 chelle, the far greater journey that lay between me and 
 the Protestant army rendered it almost impossible for 
 me to accomplish the undertaking of joining it, except 
 indeed as a beggar. 
 
 The stranger saw the effect that his words had pro- 
 duced, and demanded, with a smile, “ Why has your 
 brow grown clouded, young gentleman ? what is it that 
 makes you so suddenly gloomy ? ” 
 
 “ The army,” I replied, conquering all feelings of 
 pride ; “ is much further than I expected, and my worldly 
 wealth is but small.” 
 
49 
 
 OB, HEKBI DE CEEOKS. 
 
 The stranger looked at me fixedly for a moment, and 
 then said, “You have served before, have you not? 
 You seem of an age to have seen many a stout conflict.” 
 
 I answered in the negative, however, evidently to his 
 surprise ; and he mused for a minute or two without 
 speaking. It appeared to me, that my new acquaintance 
 was considering more what should be his own conduct 
 than what he should recommend for mine. “ Have you 
 not wherewithal to take you to the army ? ” he said, at 
 length. 
 
 “Doubtless I have,” I replied, “but not more; and 
 if I spend what I have as I go, how am I to get a horse 
 and arms when I arrive ? ” 
 
 “ Oh, there is many a man in your case,” replied the 
 stranger. “ You must not be nice when you get there ; 
 but you will find many a jockey — if there has been much 
 fighting going on, and our party has had the advantage 
 — who will be willing enough to supply you with a 
 horse on the chance of your paying him a good sum for 
 it within a certain time. It is a thing done every day. 
 These jockeys buy horses that are taken from the enemy 
 for an old song or a mess of pottage, and then sell them 
 again, if they can find means, to those who will pay 
 down. But if they cannot find such pleasant customers, 
 they dispose of them to any soldier of fortune who is 
 likely to pay them well at an after period. As to arms, 
 however, that is a more difficult matter ; and I know 
 not very well what to advise you to do. I see there is 
 some story about you, if one did but know it ; or your 
 dress is not that of a man who cannot afford to buy him- 
 self a steel cap and a cuirass. Have you nothing that 
 you can sell ? ” he added : “ that Turkish dagger in your 
 belt, — if that be gold, it will furnish you well with what 
 you want, and you must make your own right hand do 
 the rest.” 
 
 “ I should not like to sell it,” I replied, looking down 
 at the dagger ; “ this knife is one that my father brought 
 from the East, and was taken from a Turk, killed by his 
 own hand in battle. I should not like to sell it if I 
 could avoid it.” 
 
60 
 
 THE MAH AT ABMS J 
 
 “ I fear, then,” replied the stranger, “if you have no* 
 thing else to dispose of, you must even take to the arque- 
 buse, buy no horse, and serve in the infantry. You will 
 most likely find many a leader who will be glad to give 
 you arms for your services ; though I cannot think that 
 a man of your figure was made for a pedescal. I should 
 think that your father would rather see you part with 
 the dagger than so lower yourself.” 
 
 “My father is dead,” I replied ; “but, were he living, 
 I think that what you say is true, and, therefore, I will 
 part with it ; but I would fain place it in such hands that 
 I may redeem it again, in case of ever being able to do 
 so.” 
 
 “ There are Jews in the world,” the stranger exclaimed, 
 with a laugh ; “ there are Jews in the world. Thank 
 Heaven for all things — there are Jews in the world. 
 They will take it for six months, and lend you as much 
 money thereon as will serve your purpose. Before that 
 period is over, it is to be hoped that you will have 
 clipped some of these gilded troops of the enemy of 
 quite a sufficient portion of their golden fleece to recover 
 your weapon. After dinner, we will go and see what is 
 the value of the knife. It is a pretty toy, and, doubtless, 
 of good steel ; for these Turks declare, and I believe it 
 true, that the waters of Damascus temper iron far better 
 than those either of Toledo or Milan.” 
 
 It was joyful news for me to hear that I might thus 
 obtain that which I most wanted, without absolutely 
 parting with a thing which I prized not from its intrinsic 
 value, but from the memories associated with it, and 
 because I had some recollection of being told in my 
 earliest youth, never to give it away. I thanked my 
 new companion, therefore, warmly and sincerely, for the 
 advice he had given. 
 
 “We may have more to say to each other hereafter,” 
 he answered, smiling. “ I am not, perhaps, any more 
 than yourself, quite what I seem ; and the truth is, I am 
 here recruiting men for a company of men-at-arms. I 
 must not venture, indeed, to place any one therein who 
 is not a tried and well-known man; otherwise, to say 
 
51 
 
 OB, HENBI DE CEBOXS. 
 
 the truth, from your height, and look, and manner, I 
 should not have scrupled to engage with you at once. 
 We may meet again, however, as I have said, and then 
 the first vacancy you may join us, if you have proved 
 your manhood well upon the enemy. I am glad to find 
 you come of a fighting race, however : that is a great 
 thing in a man’s favour ; for courage runs in the blood as 
 well as cowardice.” 
 
 “ If it be an inheritance,” I replied, “ I have every 
 right to it; and at present it is my only one.” 
 
 “ I cannot say that originally I was much better pro- 
 vided myself,” replied the stranger. “ Good blood, 
 strong limbs, and a heart without fear, however, have 
 increased my inheritance; and I look upon the begin- 
 ning of this war as just a call to the sheep-shearing. I 
 take it as a matter of course, when I talk of your entering 
 our band, that your blood is noble, one way or another.” 
 
 “ It is as good as your own,” I replied. 
 
 “Indeed! ” he said, with a somewhat mocking smile, 
 “ Then it is of a somewhat extraordinary quality : for 
 the man who can boast descent from a long race of kings 
 cannot go beyond mine.” 
 
 “ Perhaps you mean, if traced back to Adam,” I re- 
 plied, not quite liking his tone. 
 
 “ No, young gentleman,” he answered, very gravely ; 
 “ I mean if traced back for twenty generations. But 
 come, let us go seek this Jew, and see what he says the 
 knife is worth.” 
 
 Thus saying, he rose ; and, following him through 
 manifold turnings and windings in the fine old city of 
 Bordeaux, I entered the little alley that lies just under 
 the cathedral garden. 
 
 “ Here lives a Jew,” continued my companion, “ with 
 whom I have had some dealings. The nearer the church 
 the further from God, they say ; so this misbegotten in- 
 fidel plants himself close against the chief church.” 
 
 A few steps further brought us to a small dark door- 
 way, which certainly gave no promise of wealth or 
 traffic ; and feeling his way up the stairs with his hands, 
 
62 THE MAN AT AEMS ; 
 
 my guide led me on to the second floor, where he 
 knocked hard with his clenched fist against a door. 
 
 It was not opened at once to his summons : hut a part 
 of one of the panels, about two spans square, was drawn 
 back, admitting a little light to the landing-place on 
 which we stood, and through it a dark countenance with 
 a long beard examined us carefully. 
 
 “Ah, it is you, is it, my good seigneur!” cried the 
 Jew, after having more than once keenly looked on my 
 companion’s face. “ I will open the door directly, and 
 let you in.” 
 
 And almost as he spoke, bolts and bars were with- 
 drawn, and the door opening, gave us admission into a 
 room which presented a very strange scene. 
 
 There were only two persons in the chamber ; the first 
 # f which was the Jew himself, a man of about fifty years 
 age, dressed in the long flowing black robe usually 
 worn by his people. The top of his head was quite 
 bald ; for though he wore a small black velvet cap upon 
 it, he uncovered himself on the entrance of my compa- 
 nion, and bowed down almost to the ground. His hair, 
 however, and beard were jetty black, without a single 
 gray hair, and his complexion was of that deep Orien- 
 tal yellow-brown not uncommon to his nation. 
 
 The other person whom the room contained was a 
 girl of about eleven or twelve years of age, — as beautiful 
 a little creature as it is possible to conceive ; having, 
 indeed, some resemblance to the J ew in feature, but so 
 softened with womanly and with childish beauty, that all 
 harshness was done away. She was dressed in white; 
 but sat playing on a pile of many-coloured shawls, wind- 
 ing them fancifully round her, and in so doing, throwing 
 her beautiful figure into attitudes the most graceful that 
 it is possible to conceive. 
 
 The interior of the chamber itself, however, had a 
 great many other objects to attract the eye on every side. 
 It seemed a complete show-room of rich and valuable 
 things. On a table near the window appeared piles of 
 different jewels and trinkets; swords, silver-mounted 
 
53 
 
 OB, HENBI BE CEBONS. 
 
 daggers, and many an implement of modern and ancient 
 warfare, were scattered around on every side : in other 
 corners lay rich dresses and magnificent embroidery ; in 
 others, piles of carpets and tapestries, and pieces of silk 
 and velvet. Eich lace of gold and silver, and many 
 books, perhaps invaluable in themselves, and enriched 
 by clasps and mountings of fine filigree-work, were cast 
 promiscuously together, with a thousand articles of high 
 price, which I have now forgotten. 
 
 Our business was soon explained to the Jew; and 
 taking the Turkish dagger, he looked at it, saying that 
 he would give ten crowns for it, after he had touched a 
 part of the haft with a touchstone. 
 
 “ Ten crowns ! ” exclaimed my Scottish companion. 
 “ By Abraham’s beard, Solomon Ahar, thou art more a 
 Jew than the rest of thy tribe. See you not that the 
 stones are real?” 
 
 “ Nay ! ” exclaimed the Jew, with a look of surprise. 
 “Is it so?” And, drawing near to the window, he 
 examined it again, by the faint light that entered the 
 chamber, through the manifold tall courts and stacks of 
 chimneys behind. 
 
 “ As true as thou art a son of Israel,” replied the 
 Scotchman. But ere he could say more, the Jew himself 
 exclaimed, “ Blessed be heaven ! it is so, indeed. Here 
 are — let me see — six, seven, nine, fourteen fine stones. 
 Hay, then, I will give the gentleman a hundred crowns 
 an he choose to leave it with me, as what the people of 
 Lombardy call a pignus or pledge ; and if he will sell it 
 outright, I think I could venture to go as far as a hun- 
 dred and fifty, or two hundred.” 
 
 “ Which means that it is worth three.” 
 
 “ On my honour, on my conscience ! ” cried the Jew ; 
 and was beginning to bargain upon the worth of the 
 thing, when I cut short the discussion, by exclaiming, 
 “ I have no intention of selling the dagger : it is but for 
 a temporary need that I want the money, and trust to 
 pay it back full soon.” 
 
 “ He shall give thee a hundred and fifty for it, at least,” 
 exclaimed the Scotchman. “ I know how to deal with 
 
54 
 
 THE MAN AT ABMS ; 
 
 the tribe of Israel. Look ye, Master Solomon. The 
 haft of the dagger is worth three hundred crowns or 
 more. If the youth lives, returns, and claims it, you 
 gain your interest of fifteen hard per cent. If he gets 
 himself killed, as is a thousand chances to one, or dies a 
 natural death, or never finds a crown to spare to pay 
 thee — all of which are very probable, the dagger is yours 
 at the end of six months or a year, and then you gain 
 double for the loan.” 
 
 “I cannot give it,” replied the Jew; “I cannot give 
 it. It is too much. It would be my ruin. How often 
 am I loser! What taxes have I not to pay! — No, I 
 cannot give it, I will not give it. There is your dagger, 
 young gentleman.” 
 
 I hesitated whether I should take the weapon; but 
 the Scotchman gave a nod, saying, “Take it, take it; 
 there are more Jews in Bordeaux than he.” And I was 
 taking it back into my hand, when the girl suddenly left 
 oif her sport with the shawls, and, plucking the old man 
 by the robe, she said, “ Give it him, my father ; give him 
 the money. He seems as if he would fain have it. He 
 wants it, and thou dost not.” 
 
 The Jew still was silent, only putting the child away 
 with his hand, and saying, when she urged him further, 
 “ Silence, prattler ; what is it to thee ?” 
 
 The girl, turning away from him, looked up in my 
 face ; and I laid my hand upon her jetty locks, saying, 
 “ I thank thee, my pretty maiden. He will not yield to 
 thee ; but thou art kind, however.” 
 
 “ Nay,” said the Jew ; “ I will yield something. You 
 shall have a hundred and twenty-five.” 
 
 “ No !” said the Scot, turning towards the door. “ We 
 shall get a hundred and fifty for it from Moses Levi.” 
 The Jew hesitated for a moment longer; but when my 
 companion laid his hand upon the lock of the door, as 
 if to go out, he said, “ Stay, stay : thou shalt have it, 
 though I vow it is the full value of the thing.” 
 
 He carried an inkhorn at his button, and soon wrote 
 down upon two pieces of vellum a mutual acknowledg- 
 ment between him and me; the one was drawn up in 
 
55 
 
 OR, HENRI HE CER0N8. 
 
 his name, recognising the receipt of the dagger, specify- 
 ing every stone that it contained, and promising its resti- 
 tution on the payment of the sum of a hundred and fifty 
 crowns, together with interest at the rate of fifteen per 
 cent. The other was on my part acknowledging the 
 receipt of the hundred and fifty crowns, and promising 
 to return it within the space of twelve months, paying an 
 interest of fifteen per cent. 
 
 As soon as this was concluded, the money was paid 
 down, and the weapon with its glittering hilt, surren- 
 dered. I still wanted a leathern hag to carry the money 
 in ; but in the store of the Jew all things were to be 
 found ; and having taken one from a cabinet in the room, 
 he made me pay about double the value, and thus we 
 departed, — I far richer than I had expected to be for 
 many a year, but feeling yet a degree of regret and dis- 
 quietude at having suffered the last gift of my father to 
 pass out of my own hand, which, for the time, more than 
 counterbalanced the pleasure of receiving the money, 
 even though it was to furnish me with the means of 
 pursuing that profession for which he himself had des- 
 tined me. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 When we had quitted the Jew’s house, my companion 
 laughed aloud in his peculiar, clear, merry, careless way. 
 
 “These sons of Israel!” he said, “these sons of 
 Israel ! it needs a long acquaintance to deal with them 
 wisely ; for they always take their chance of those who 
 traffic with them being fools, in order to cheat them, if 
 it be possible. The old sinner knew that those were 
 real jewels in the dagger from the first moment he set 
 eyes on it; but he hazarded offering a small sum, in 
 case you should not know the fact. I took my chance 
 the other way, and swore they were real jewels, though 
 I knew nothing about it ; being very sure that, if they 
 
56 
 
 THE MAN AT ASMS; 
 
 were not, he would not suffer me to deceive him How- 
 ever, you are now not only master of enough to arm 
 you from head to heel, as a proper man-at-arms, and to 
 buy you a horse, but to arm half a dozen others lightly, 
 to follow you ; and, if you will take my counsel, I think 
 I can set y ou off, on a plan by which you may gain both 
 fame and fortune — or lose your life, remember ! — for 
 that must always be put at stake. Come to the inn, 
 however, — come to the inn ; and we will talk more.” 
 
 I followed him through the streets, meditating on 
 what he had said, and inclined very strongly to trust 
 him, but feeling that want of confidence in myself which 
 was produced by a knowledge of my own inexperience, 
 and which prevented me from being at all sure whether 
 I was dealing with an honest man or a knave. He had 
 certainly put me in a way of obtaining money, which I 
 could not have done myself, and he had as yet asked 
 me for no share in the sum thus obtained. There was 
 a frankness, too, in his whole demeanour, which pro- 
 duced a strong impression in his favour ; and, though I 
 was still upon my guard, yet I was well inclined to 
 receive any advice that he might give me under a 
 favourable view. 
 
 “ Come, Master Jacques,” he said, speaking to the 
 landlord, whom we met upon the stairs of the inn, “ let 
 us have a bottle of your best wine, for we were inter- 
 rupted in our draught to go away upon business.” 
 
 The landlord bowed low at orders which landlords 
 are always willing to hear; and the stranger led the 
 way to the same room where we had before sat, hum- 
 ming away the time till the aubergiste returned. En- 
 sconced at length in that room with the bottle and 
 glasses before us, he began, in somewhat of a conse- 
 quential tone, and with a look of superior knowledge, to 
 direct my proceedings. 
 
 “You have now,” he said, “the opportunity of making 
 or marring your own fortunes. You have but very 
 little experience — I have a great deal ; and, were I placed 
 exactly as you are, I would do as I am going to tell you 
 to do. I would, in the first place, buy ipyself arms and 
 
57 
 
 OB, HENRI DE CERONS. 
 
 horses, here in Bordeaux, where you will get them 
 cheaper than either at Rochelle or at Charenton, where 
 they are in more request. I would arm myself com- 
 pletely at all points with a plain good suit, which may 
 be had at a low price, of just as strong materials as if 
 you paid two or three thousand livres for it. Then buy 
 the armour of a demi-lance for that stout youth whom I 
 saw with you below. Two horses may be had for you 
 cheap enough, if you can ride well ; for there is a 
 maquignon, called Pierrot, has got a troop of wild devils 
 from the Limousin, for which he can find no sale here 
 amongst the merchants and citizens, and soft-boned 
 gentry of Bordeaux.” 
 
 I smiled, replying, “¥e will ride them, if they can be 
 ridden.” 
 
 “ I advise you,” he continued, “ to do this rather 
 than to furnish yourself at the army, both because you 
 will find it cheaper, and because it always looks better, 
 and gives a higher opinion of a man when he joins his 
 leader fully prepared. Besides, you have a chance of 
 some little adventure on the road, which may take off 
 the freshness of your arms, and give you some little 
 reputation. Such things are as common in these days 
 as they were in the time of the knights-errant. Now, 
 what I propose for you to do, when you have joined 
 the army, is, not for you to put yourself in this troop 
 or that, as a simple man-at-arms ; for that is the way 
 to get yourself killed speedily, without anybody hear- 
 ing anything of you ; but to look about the camp for 
 any stray vagabonds that may be about — I mean of those 
 whose whole fortune consists in a steel cap, a breast- 
 
 i date, and a horse ; and the whole sum of whose virtues 
 ies in courage. You will find two or three young 
 fellows, too, at every corner, who, like yourself, are seek- 
 ing service, fresh in arms and willing to stick to any 
 leader who will but gallop them into the cannon’s mouth. 
 They are generally younger than you are, for you have 
 been somewhat late in taking to the trade That, how- 
 ever, will only make it the more likely they should follow 
 you, which is the great thing ; for, to be the leader of 
 
68 
 
 THE MAH AT ARMS ; 
 
 one of these bands is the sure means of getting on, 
 whereas, to be a follower in one of them is the readiest 
 way of getting hanged. You have, then, nothing to do, 
 you know, but take up absolutely the trade of adven- 
 turer, attack the enemy everywhere, harass him on every 
 occasion, cut off his parties, attack every chateau where 
 you think there is a soldier ; in short, run your head 
 against every stone wall that you meet with. You may 
 chance to knock some of them down ; and if you do, 
 you will gain a reputation which will soon put you at the 
 head of a better band than that with w'hich you set out. 
 Good old soldiers will be glad to come to you then, 
 and you may work yourself up to be a general by steadi- 
 ness and perseverance . 5 5 
 
 “ There are two things, however , 55 I said, “ which you 
 have forgotten to mention; first, where I am to get the 
 money to pay these recruits ; for after I have bought 
 horses and arms for myself and Andriot, there will not 
 be much left to pay any one . 55 
 
 “ Oh, they will pay themselves, they will pay them- 
 selves , 55 he said. “ You may have, indeed, in the first 
 instance, to give one or two of those vagabonds, who 
 have seen service, a crown a week, just to make the 
 beginning of a band ; all the others you will take merely 
 upon trial ; and, of course, you must put the Catholics 
 under contributions. If they will have war, let them 
 have war and pay for it. It is an undoubted fact that, 
 since the last peace, they have put to death in one town 
 or another full ten thousand Protestants ; and, therefore, 
 we have a right to make them pay for such sorts of 
 amusement. Then you will put the prisoners to ransom 
 you know ; and every one that is taken by your men 
 pays you a share, too. You will, therefore, have plenty 
 to keep the band up as soon as it is formed. But what 
 was your next question ?” 
 
 “ Why, simply by whose authority I shall act , 55 I 
 replied ; “ for, not being of sufficient authority and rank 
 to levy war on my own account, I must have some 
 sanction for raising such a band .’ 5 
 
 “ I had thought of that,” he replied ; “ I had thought 
 
59 
 
 OR, HENRI HE CERONS. 
 
 of that. Such things are not, indeed, much considered 
 in these wars ; and, after all, I believe you might do it 
 on your own account : ay, and with right, for your father 
 was a man of good nobility as well as courage; and 
 though he never had a crown in his purse to bless him- 
 self, might have spread his own banner according to the 
 ordinances of St. Louis.” 
 
 “ Did you know my father ?” I demanded, somewhat 
 surprised : “ and if you did know him, how have you 
 found out that I am his son ?” 
 
 “I knew your father but little,” replied the other, 
 
 “ though we have fought side by side together before 
 now ; and, as to the rest, you forget that I saw you 
 sign your name before the Jew. However, as it is better 
 that you should have some authority for what you do, 
 
 I will give you a letter to the Prince de Conde, telling 
 him your plans and purposes, and he will not refuse you 
 a commission under his own hand, at the request of 
 Robert Stuart.” 
 
 “ Robert Stuart !” I exclaimed ; “ what he who killed 
 the Constable Montmorency at the battle of St. Denis ?” 
 
 “The same man that you mean,” replied my com- 
 panion ; “ but for all that, I did not kill the Constable. 
 The world gives me greater credit than I deserve. It 
 was one of my band who shot him with a pistol. I took 
 him, indeed, for he was down on the ground ; and I 
 thought he had formally surrendered, and believe so 
 still, when up he jumped, and with the pommel of his 
 sword dashed out my three front teeth, knocking me 
 backwards on the ground, for I had dismounted to 
 receive his sword. One of my fellows,, seeing this, 
 called out that he was as treacherous an enemy as a 
 friend, and shot him on the spot. That is the exact 
 truth of the story that people tell twenty different ways. i 
 And now, knowing who I am, you will wonder, perhaps, 
 to see me here, in a little inn, paying a few sous for my 
 dinner. But the truth is, I came to swell my band a 
 little, by any veteran men at arms I can find, and also 
 to meet here some half dozen of my friends from Scot- 
 land, who are about to join me. How, there is a certain 
 
60 
 
 THE MAN AT ARMS; 
 
 report gone abroad, well nigh as false as the other, that 
 I was the person who caused that old meddling fool, the 
 President Minard, to be assassinated. There is many a 
 one of his friends here, in the good town of Bordeaux, 
 so that, till I am well accompanied, it might not be 
 pleasant to lodge at a great inn, and draw eyes upon me.” 
 
 It may well be supposed that I now thanked this 
 celebrated leader gratefully for what he had done and 
 proposed to do in my behalf. But he replied that the 
 Protestant cause was much at his heart ; that he loved a 
 good soldier and the son of a good soldier, and that 
 what he had done for me was really nothing. 
 
 “ Come,” he said, at length, “ let us go and seek for 
 the horses and arms ; bring your boy with you, and I 
 will let my people know where I am, that, in case the 
 ship arrives, they may come and tell me.” 
 
 The horses were soon bought, about twenty of them 
 having been brought out for me to try. For myself I 
 chose one of the strongest and most fierce, having soon 
 perceived that he was tractable and good in his temper, 
 though he was perfectly unbroken. A lighter horse 
 served the boy’s turn ; but I left my new friend to bar- 
 gain with the dealer for the price of both, and was sur- 
 prised to find the small sum at which he contrived to 
 purchase the two. It is true the dealer knew him, and 
 imagined that I was a man at arms newly engaged to 
 serve under the Scotch captain. 
 
 The arms were procured in a similar manner; and, 
 being now fully equipped, I returned with Stuart to the 
 inn, telling him my intention of setting out for the army 
 that very night, in order not to lose any time in pursuing 
 the course before me. 
 
 “That is right,” he said, “that is right; I like ac- 
 tivity ! You and your man can get to Cubzac to-night. 
 I will write the letter for you at once ; and if you can 
 pick up another follower or two in your way to the 
 camp, do not fail to do so, for the more men you carry 
 with you, the warmer will be your welcome. Do not 
 arm yourself till you get to Cubzac, for the good people 
 here might stop you. You must then shape your course 
 
61 
 
 OB, HENBI BE CEEOHS. 
 
 as you hear news of the army ; but avoid Angoulfcme, 
 for when I came by, some ten days ago, that neighbour- 
 hood was somewhat dangerous for a Protestant.” 
 
 Of course my thanks were not wanting, and immedi- 
 ately after our arrival at the inn, he wrote the letter 
 which he had promised ; making no mention, indeed, of 
 my never having served before, but simply telling the 
 Prince de Conde, with whom he seemed on terms of 
 great intimacy, who I was, and that the object I proposed 
 was to raise a troop of adventurers, in order to harass 
 the Catholic armies. He further begged him, not only 
 to give me a commission to the effect he proposed, but 
 to point out to me the means of swelling my troop, and 
 to afford me every assistance in so doing. 
 
 When this was finished, and the armour charged upon 
 the servant’s horse, I lost no time in mounting my own, 
 and my new friend, shaking me as heartily by the hand 
 as if we had known each other for years, bade me adieu, 
 saying, that we. should soon meet again at the camp. 
 The landlord of the auberge and his drawers all bowed 
 low as I came away, for I had paid whatever was asked, 
 and, perhaps, had been more liberal to the attendants 
 than some of the frequenters of the inn, not poorer than 
 myself ; and, with a heart considerably lightened, I rode 
 away and quitted the city of Bordeaux. 
 
 My first sensations were those of joy and satisfaction 
 at being no longer dependent upon the bounty of any 
 one, but bent upon my way through the wide world, to 
 win for myself honour and renown, and, as I trusted, 
 high station and happy competence. 
 
 But, even while 1 was passing the ferry, those sensa- 
 tions began to change. I thought, with some regret, of 
 the chateau of Blancford, of good old La Tour, of the 
 two glad, light-hearted boys, who had been my com- 
 panions for many a year, and of the sweet girl whom I 
 might never see again. A feeling of solitude came over 
 me ; and I do believe that it is impossible, even for him 
 who has the lightest heart, the brightest hope, and the 
 most enviable situation, to quit the scenes and the com- 
 panions of his youth, without feeling as if he were left 
 
62 THE MAK AT ABMS ; 
 
 alone in the whole wide world, and without seeing 
 before his eyes vague visions of the difficulties, dangers, 
 distresses, and griefs, which await every man who passes 
 forth into active existence. 
 
 Such, at least, were my sensations, and, after landing, 
 paying the ferryman his fare, and ascending the heights 
 on the other side, I paused to look back over the scene 
 that I was quitting, and a thousand bright and happy 
 memories clinging to my heart, like children that would 
 keep a parent from the wars, seemed to hold me to the 
 spot with a force I could scarcely resist. 
 
 I thought of the condition of those that I had left 
 behind ; I saw the peaceful dwelling where I had spent 
 so many years with but few of earth’s discomforts, ren- 
 dered the abode of contention, and sorrow, and discom- 
 fort ; I fancied the grief of the two youths when they 
 found that I was gone ; I beheld the fair face of Louise 
 bathed in tears, as she remained unprotected and alone, 
 and left to the guidance, the control, perhaps the tyranny, 
 of a harsh bad woman. It was all painful — the thought 
 almost unmanned me, and I would have given worlds to 
 have rescued her from such a painful situation. 
 
 I felt that I must call up such images no longer ; but 
 still the form and face of Louise haunted me ; and, at 
 length, out of the darker and more gloomy thoughts 
 that filled my brain, came forth a bright and lustrous 
 hope — a hope on which I dared not let my mind rest : 
 which was like the night vision of an angel to some 
 lonely anchorite, too brilliant for the eye to gaze upon 
 firmly, but yet full of joy and consolation and eneour 
 ragement. 
 
 It was the first time that ever such a dream had sug- 
 gested itself even to imagination. It was wild — it was 
 foolish ; but yet how sweet was the idea, that the time 
 might come when, having, by the exertion of every 
 power of mind and body, conquered the difficulties 
 which surrounded me, swept away poverty and depend- 
 ence, gained fame and honour and emolument, I might 
 be enabled to snatch that sweet girl from the dark and 
 hateful tyranny which I believed the rule of her mother’s 
 
63 
 
 OB, SENRI DE CERONS. 
 
 rival must necessarily become, and to repay, in some 
 degree, by kindness and tenderness and love for the 
 child, the kindness and tenderness and love which had 
 been shown to me by the mother. 
 
 But, almost in the very act of thus dreaming, there 
 came upon me the memory of all that multitude of 
 obstacles — I might almost say of impossibilities— which 
 lay in the way to the fulfilment of such hopes. But I 
 felt at the same time that, though it was only a fancy, 
 it was a noble one ; that though it was merely a wild 
 aspiration after that which could not be, it was a high 
 aspiration ; one that might lead me to great attempts, 
 if not to great deeds ; one that would even guard me 
 against low and debasing pursuits, that would elevate 
 my purposes, and give object to my energies and exer- 
 tions. I felt that such an object was holy and great, 
 and I speak with reverence when I say that it seemed 
 to me then like the star which led the Magi from the 
 East. 
 
 As this image rose upon my mind it soothed and 
 it strengthned me, and I could gaze upon the city with 
 its manifold towers and steeples reposing calmly in the 
 rich purple light of evening, and upon the distant slop- 
 ing grounds beyond, leading away towards Blancford, 
 and on the wanderings of the bright Garonne, as, rolling 
 down from Langon, it swept on by the city towards its 
 meeting with the kindred stream, and on their joint 
 progress to the ocean ; — I could gaze, in short, upon all 
 the natural objects which my eye had been accustomed 
 to behold from childhood, without that deep feeling of 
 regret on quitting them which I had experienced the 
 moment before ; and, as I turned my horse’s rein to 
 ride on, I murmured, — 
 
 “I shall see you all again, perhaps, with a lighter 
 heart and a spirit more at rest.” 
 
 The country was well known to me ; for, during the 
 last two or three years, I had made manifold excursions 
 from the chateau in different directions; and now, 
 leaving the high road somewhat to the right, I took a 
 bridle-path which conducted towards my place of rest 
 
64 
 
 THE MAH AT AEMS ' 
 
 for the night more rapidly, though somewhat more 
 roughly, than the ordinary track. 
 
 Advancing somewhat quickly, for my charger was 
 impatient of the bridle, I passed a man upon a small 
 rugged horse, neither very fat nor very comely in its 
 appearance, and apparently little able to carry him and 
 the large package which he bore on the croup behind. 
 When first I saw him he was trailing a spear along, 
 with one end of the shaft describing a long zigzag line 
 upon the road; but the sound of a horse’s feet made 
 him turn round rapidly, and his lance was brought into 
 rest in a moment, in a way that bespoke no slight prac- 
 tice in charging a sudden enemy. 
 
 Whether, on an occasion, he might charge any one 
 without much considering if it were enemy or friend, 
 I did not know at the time ; but such things were very 
 common in those days, though I think the worthy gen- 
 tleman was somewhat too badly mounted to attempt 
 the experiment upon me, even if I had been alone. 
 
 We passed, however, in all safety, with a “ Good 
 evening, seigneur,” on the part of our fellow traveller. 
 I had only time, as I passed by, to remark that he was a 
 tall raw-boned man, with a countenance which did not 
 prepossess one very much in his favour. He was some- 
 what dirty in his clothing, and rugged in his person and 
 appearance also, though there was a roguish twinkle in 
 his eye which did not escape my attention, even in the 
 slight glance I obtained. 
 
 In a short time after, I arrived at Cubzac ; and rode 
 straight to the inn, the hospitable doors of which showed 
 themselves very willing to give me admission. 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 Wheh I stood in the court-yard of the inn at Cubzac, 
 and saw my armour and my valise unloaded from An- 
 driot’s horse, while the aubergiste waited to conduct me, 
 
Ok, HENRI DE CER0NS. G5 
 
 with every appearance of reverence, towards the hall of 
 general entertainment, a strange feeling suddenly came 
 over me, from the recollection that it was not yet four- 
 and-twenty hours since the arrival of the Baron de 
 Blancford at his own chateau, that all I had done — the 
 making of a new acquaintance, my dealings with the 
 Jew, the purchase of horses and of arms, and a hundred 
 little incidents, which appeared to me like the occupa- 
 tions of a life — had in reality occupied but a few hours. 
 So it was, however ; my whole fate and course of exist- 
 ence had been changed as by the stroke of a magician’s 
 wand, which had set me free in a moment from the state 
 of indolent dependence in which I had been forced to 
 remain, like one of the spirits in the old fables, impri- 
 soned motionless in the heart of some knotted oak, and 
 had sent me forth in a moment to active life and ener- 
 getic exertion. 
 
 There was something ennobling, elevating, inspiring, 
 in the feelings, very different from the sensations with 
 which I had looked back upon the scenes I was leaving, 
 from the northern bank of the Garonne. That all this 
 had been accomplished in so short a space, gave me a 
 sensation of power and energy ; a confidence in myself, 
 which I had before wanted ; and in the calm and delibe- 
 rate step and thoughtful air with which I followed the 
 landlord into the auberge, no one I think could have 
 discovered any trace of a mind as inexperienced as that 
 of a mere boy. 
 
 The hall of the inn was a very spacious one ; and a 
 long table appeared in the middle, at the further end of 
 which I could just see, through the dim twilight of the 
 evening, some seven or eight persons assembled round 
 what seemed a hasty supper. One of the servants of 
 the inn, however, brought in lights almost immediately 
 after I had entered ; and it then became evident that the 
 party had just arrived from some long journey. There 
 were two or three grave elderly men of respectable ap- 
 pearance, apparently tradesmen of some importance, or 
 merchants. There was a good dame too of the same 
 class, with two or three little girls of seven or eight 
 
66 
 
 THE MAN AT AEMS ; 
 
 years old, and one or two women servants ; besides 
 which, there was a youth of eighteen or nineteen, strong 
 and well-made, scarcely tasting his supper, but sitting 
 beside the rest, and resting thoughtfully with his head 
 leaning on his hand. 
 
 Manifold were the caps and mantles which covered the 
 whole party ; and one would certainly have supposed, 
 from the way in which they were wrapped up, that we 
 were in the midst of winter, rather than in the warmest 
 time of year. It often happened at that time, however, 
 that such superabundant garments were adopted for the 
 purpose of concealment; and I judged, and judged 
 rightly, that these might be a party of wealthy traders, 
 who, travelling through a disturbed country, and in 
 dangerous times, cbose to be recognised as little as 
 possible, lest the report of wealth might draw upon 
 them the attention of the plunderers with whom the 
 country was overrun. 
 
 All their eyes had been turned upon me, as soon as I 
 entered ; the conversation they were carrying on ceased, 
 and, as if for something to say, one of the elder men 
 addressed the younger, saying, — 
 
 “ Why do you not eat your supper, Martin ? You are 
 not sick, are you ? ” 
 
 “ Not sick, uncle, but sorry,” replied the lad. 
 
 “ Pshaw! Thou art a whimsical boy,” replied the 
 elder man. “I can tell thee, however poor a trade 
 thou mayst follow, it is richer than that of a soldier. 
 Here is this gentleman coming in,” he added, raising his 
 eyes to me as I stood half-way up the table ; “ he looks 
 as if he knew something of arms, and I dare say will tell 
 thee that to sell silk or linen, however little one may 
 get, is better than fighting all day, watching all night, 
 and having hard blows for one’s only payment.” 
 
 I laughed at his description of the soldier’s life; and, 
 as he addressed me first, replied at once, “I cannot 
 think we are so badly off as that, my good sir. Every 
 one knows his own taste; and, though certainly for- 
 tunes are rarely made by the sword, yet honour is 
 gained, and glory, and frequently competence; and you 
 
OB, HENBI BE CEBONS. 67 
 
 must remember, there is not a noble family in the land 
 which does not owe its elevation to the sword.” 
 
 “That was in other days — that was in other days,” 
 said the elder man. “ But I am right, then, in thinking 
 you a soldier, sir ? ” 
 
 “ I nodded my head, and was about to reply some- 
 what more fully, when Audriot entered the room, and 
 whispered a word or two in my ear, which made me rise 
 and go out, while the landlord busily put down my 
 cover, and prepared to give me supper. 
 
 The intelligence which the lad brought me was simply, 
 that the man with the spear, whom we had passed on 
 the road, had come into the inn-yard, and finding him 
 there, had asked him many questions concerning me. 
 The good youth had been in one of his loquacious 
 moods, and had given the interrogator more informa- 
 tion than I thought right, telling him my name, and 
 that I was a gentleman going to join the army. On 
 this the other had immediately asked to speak with me, 
 and I accordingly went out at once, in order to put 
 my mind at ease with regard to the person in whose 
 favour Andriot had shown himself so communica- 
 tive. 
 
 I found him in the court-yard busy in unloading hi3 
 beast, and examining the contents of the package that 
 he had carried behind him, which proved to be a consi- 
 derable store of very miscellaneous pieces of armour, 
 both offensive and defensive. The cuirass was at that 
 moment on the top, and from its condition left little 
 doubt that one of its possessors, at least, had seen some 
 service, like itself ; for not only did sundry hacks and 
 dints betray the fact of many a close encounter, but a 
 large round hole appeared to have been perforated, 
 either by bullet or lance, on the right-hand side, near 
 the arm-hole ; and the gap was now curiously stopped 
 up by means of a piece of thick leather, attached by 
 nails driven through the iron, and clenched on the 
 inside. 
 
 “ Why, my good friend,” I said, looking at the 
 cuirass, and without taking any immediate notice of 
 
68 THE MAtf AT AEMS; 
 
 his message, “that piece of leather will never keep 
 out anything.” 
 
 “ It will keep out anything I want it to keep out,” 
 replied the man, looking at me with a laugh. 
 
 “ And what is that ? ” I demanded ; “ what is it you 
 want it to keep out ? ” 
 
 “ The wind,” he replied; “for when the wind gets in 
 between cold iron and an empty stomach a man gets 
 melancholy, and has no appetite for dry blows. But I 
 know what you mean — that sword, or bullet, or spear 
 would go through it is as easily as a skewer through a 
 cock of the Indies ; but there is not much chance of any 
 other bullet finding out that place again — and if it did, 
 no great matter, for it would meet with its fellow here, 
 just lying between the ribs, under my arm-pit, and that 
 would stop it from going any further.” 
 
 “ That is looking upon the matter rationally,” I 
 replied. “ But now, my good friend, what is it that you 
 wanted with me ? ” 
 
 “ Why, simply this, seigneur,” he replied; “finding 
 that you are a soldier going to join the army, and having 
 heard of your name a great many years ago as a very 
 brave and gallant gentleman ” 
 
 “You must mean my father,” I said, interrupting 
 him; “ my name you most likely have never heard.” 
 
 “ Ay, I dare say it was your father, now I look at 
 you,” he replied, “for you couldn’t be much out of your 
 swaddling clothes at the time I talk of. However, I was 
 going to propose, that you being travelling alone, or 
 nearly so, and I alone, or, what’s somewhat worse than 
 alone, having nothing but a bad beast with me, which 
 trots me five miles an hour, and thinks itself a miracle— 
 I was going to propose, I say, that we should join com- 
 pany ; for in these days we may fall in with friends and 
 acquaintances by the way, where we shall find two right 
 hands better than one. Besides, we may chance to fall 
 in with some booty ; and two dogs will always kill more 
 game than twice one dog.” 
 
 On the very face of the matter, the proposal was 
 somewhat impudent, for at least my clothing, my horses, 
 
OR, HENRI HE CERONS. 
 
 69 
 
 and I trust my appearance altogether, were those of a 
 man of high birth ; but when I came to look my com- 
 panion over more attentively by the twilight, which did 
 not improve his appearance, it struck me as more im- 
 pudent still. He was a person of about forty-five years 
 of age, lean, long-limbed, thin-flanked, broad in the 
 shoulders ; with as unprepossessing a countenance as it 
 was possible to imagine, and nothing on earth to redeem 
 it from a sort of assassin-like expression, except a merry 
 but somewhat sarcastic glance which occasionally came 
 into his eyes, or rather into one of them, for it was the 
 right eye only which had any movement ; and I after- 
 wards found that the left was made of glass, though a 
 very good imitation of the other. 
 
 What might have been the original shape of his nose, 
 I do not know ; but a large cut across the bridge and 
 down one cheek seemed to indicate that its conformation 
 had been somewhat violently changed into its present 
 Socratic turn upwards. 
 
 His long gray hair, thin and ragged, his unwashed 
 face, his untrimmed beard, all added to the sinister 
 appearance of his countenance, and, in short, no one 
 could look at him without doing him the same bitter 
 injustice that I did him at that moment, and thinking 
 him as murderous and rascally a person as it was possible 
 to set one’s eyes on. Besides all this, his garments were 
 anything but that which one would have desired in a 
 friend and companion; for his buff jerkin, besides the 
 rusty stains which had been left upon it alter having 
 been worn under ill-cleaned armour, was soiled and dirty 
 in various other ways, and in more than one place 
 patched with a piece of gray cloth. 
 
 He stood my survey quite quietly; and, indeed, the 
 discrepant gaze of his two eyes rendered it somewhat 
 difficult to tell whether he was looking full in my face or 
 across the inn-yard on the other side. After having 
 remained for about half a minute silent, however, he 
 brought both eyes into a straight line, demanding, in a 
 significant tone, “Am not I an ugly dog?” 
 
 “Yes,” I replied, “you are. But you have made a 
 
70 
 
 THE MAH AT AEMS ; 
 
 little mistake, my good friend: I am not seeking 
 companions, but raising a troop to serve under my 
 command.” 
 
 “Then I am the very man you want,” he replied, 
 “for I have experience, and you have none, that’s clear 
 enough ; and I do not much care what I do, whether it 
 be as a leader or follower, so that I do something.” 
 
 “ I don’t think you would do much credit to my new 
 troop,” I replied, “ unless you troubled the brook a little 
 oftener, and gave the barber a sou at least once a 
 month.” 
 
 “ Oh, that is easily remedied,” said the adventurer. 
 “ I have no sous to spare, but I have ten fingers, bating 
 one which was hacked off at the battle of St. Denis, 
 which will do as well for me as any barber in Christen- 
 dom ; and then again, though water is not plenty in this 
 hot weather, yet it is to be had. As to my jerkin, too, a 
 couple of ounces of chalk, and the worth of a denier of 
 yellow ochre, will put all that to rights : so that, if you 
 like to have me, I will turn out to-morrow morning as 
 smart a trooper as you’d wish to see. I cannot get rid 
 of my face though, so you must make the best of that.” 
 
 “What religion are you of?” I asked, wishing 
 to ascertain that point first, before I divulged my 
 own. 
 
 “ I don’t know,” he replied. “ What is yours ?” 
 
 There was a sort of quaint oddity about the fellow 
 which amused me, and, I confess, made me think better 
 of him, though I know not why, and I demanded with- 
 out answering his question, “ Whom have you served 
 under?” 
 
 “ Two or three dozen,” he answered ; “ but I have 
 got my character written down for the benefit of those 
 whom it may concern by a great many of my different 
 friends, and I have not altered a word of their certi- 
 ficates ; for it’s useless for a man to try to change his 
 nature, and it will come out sooner or later. Whom 
 will you have? ” he continued: “here is Martigues on 
 the one side, and Andelot on the other. Here is Puy- 
 gaillard, and Dossac, and Stuart, and 
 
71 
 
 OE, HENEI DE CEE0NS. 
 
 “ Stay, stay,” I said, “ that will do. Let me see 
 Martigues on the one side, and Stuart on the other.” 
 “ Yon are a ’cute bird, after all,” he said, “ you won’t 
 be limed, I see, to show yourself a Protestant or a 
 Catholic. However, here are the papers.” 
 
 And lifting up the flap of his jerkin, he drew from an 
 inner pocket a number of dirty pieces of paper, of which 
 he placed in my hands two, saying, “ There they are.” 
 The first I opened was in a strange hand, and it went 
 on as follows : — 
 
 “ This is to signify that Moric Endem is the greatest 
 liar in Europe ; but none the worse for that. He fights 
 like a tiger, and will now and then obey his orders.” 
 This was signed “ Martigues,” and the other, which I 
 instantly recognised as the same hand-writing wherein 
 Stuart had given me a letter to the Prince de Conde, 
 was much in the same strain. 
 
 “I hereby aver,” it said, “ that Moric Endem is better 
 than he looks. He will stand by a friend or a leader till 
 the last ; and has done so many brave things, that he is 
 a foci for bragging of things that he never did.” 
 
 I smiled as I read such account of my volunteer, but 
 paused for a moment, to consider whether there was a 
 possibility of my being deceived. Had I been still in 
 the frame of mind in which I had set out that morning, 
 I should have lost my opportunity, and rejected the offer 
 of a man who afterwards proved of infinite use to me. 
 But, as I have said, I had become somewhat more con- 
 fident in myself by this time : Stuart’s recommendation 
 to increase my numbers, as far as possible, had been 
 strong ; and therefore I determined to run the risk, as, 
 in case of any malconduct on the part of my new fol- 
 lower, I and Andriot were at least two to one against 
 him. 
 
 “ And now, Monsieur Moric Endem,” I said, “ which 
 would you rather serve on, the Catholic or the Protestant 
 side ? Answer me fairly, for on the reply hangs all our 
 proceedings.” 
 
 “ That is not a fair question,” he cried, flinging down 
 his cap on the ground with some vehemence, “ That ia 
 
72 
 
 THE MAH AT AEMS ; 
 
 not a fair question to a soldier of fortune. The matter, 
 see you, is balanced pretty evenly, my young lord. 
 With the Catholics, there is pay and but little plunder, 
 for the Protestants have nothing to lose. With the 
 Protestants there is no pay, but plenty of plunder ; for 
 each Catholic, like a fool, comes with a fortune on his 
 
 back. I have indeed a little hankering one way ” 
 
 “ What then,” I said, “ do the Protestants give no 
 pay?” 
 
 “ By St. G-eronimo,” he cried, slapping his thigh, “ you 
 are a Catholic ! — But no,” he continued a moment after, 
 “ I remember quite well, Cerons was a Protestant, and 
 so was his cousin, the Baron de Blancford. If you are 
 the young lord, you are a Protestant too.” 
 
 “ Perhaps it may be so,” I replied, in a low tone, but 
 with a significant look. 
 
 “ Well, then, I am your man,” he said, without raising 
 his voice ; “ for, to say sooth, I was born and bred a 
 Protestant. But it is full thirty years since I thought 
 of those things ; and, on my honour, I don’t well know 
 what’s the difference now. As to the rest, my young 
 master, you must give me a crown to gild my hand ; and 
 you must give me and my horse something to eat, till 
 we get to the army, at all events ; for if I had not met 
 with you this night, he and I would have shared supper ; 
 that is to say, he would have had the hay, and I the 
 water ; and to-morrow we might have been obliged to 
 prove troublesome to any one we met upon the road. 
 I declare, so help me Heaven ! I have not seen a crown- 
 piece for the last two months.” 
 
 “ I am nearly as poor as yourself, Moric,” I said ; 
 “ however, there is a crown for you, and now you are 
 my follower ; but I expect to see a change in your ap- 
 pearance by to-morrow; and you had better get your 
 armour on your back, as I intend to do with mine, so 
 that we may be well prepared for all things.” 
 
 “ You shall see a change, you shall see a change, 
 sir,” cried the man ; “ and I will help to fill your purse, 
 as you have now helped to fill mine. I will get this 
 crown changed directly into silver and billon, that it 
 
73 
 
 OB, HENBI DE CE110NS. 
 
 may feel heavy in my purse, and make me think of the 
 days of old; for I have had many more crowns in my 
 pocket, I dare say, than you have in yours now. But 
 however — I don’t know how it was — peace never lasted 
 six months without finding me as poor as ever ; the 
 pockets grew empty, and the crowns went away, some 
 to one slut, some to another, and the rest, as I have 
 heard Stuart tell of an English Prince, were drowned in 
 butts of malmsey or burgundy, as the case might be. 
 But I will go and polish my armour, and patch my 
 jacket, and wash my face, and trim my beard ; and then 
 I must try and get a new horse the first time I meet an 
 enemy ; though it is to be confessed, that on the back 
 of that brute, there are ten chances to one against me.” 
 
 While Moric Endem was speaking, the landlord came 
 from the house to seek me, telling me that my supper 
 was not only ready, but getting cold ; and, leaving my 
 new follower to make the best arrangements for himself 
 he could, I re-entered the hall of the inn. 
 
 I found the party that I had left there concluding 
 their supper ; and they all looked at me as I sat down 
 to mine, with a sort of shy and anxious, but yet not a 
 reserved look ; somewhat like that which a dog puts on 
 when he is willing to be familiar with us, but somewhat 
 afraid of trusting to our kindness. The two elder men, 
 however, and the elder lady, entered into conversation 
 with me after a short time ; and I saw evidently, that 
 they were endeavouring to probe my character and 
 feelings. Those, however, were sad days, when no one 
 dared to trust to his neighbour ; and I as little chose to 
 confide my views or purposes to them, as they chose to 
 put any trust or confidence in me. 
 
 The conversation, then, was merely general ; I found 
 that one of the elder merchants had travelled much, and 
 had considerable information ; and he seemed not a little 
 surprised, to find that a young soldier could possess so 
 much general knowledge as I had acquired during my 
 long period of study. 
 
 The younger people, too, began to draw nearer to me ; 
 and some little sportive jests, such as I would have used 
 
74 
 
 THE MAH AT ASMS; 
 
 towards my cousins at Blancford, appeared completely 
 to win their hearts ; so that they were speedily clinging 
 *ound me, playing with the tassels of my cloak or my 
 sword-knot, and taking a thousand little liberties, for 
 which they were, of course, gravely reproved by their 
 elders. 
 
 The young man, who had been called Martin, how- 
 ever, sat silent and thoughtful for a long time ; and, at 
 length, only spoke to ask me some questions concerning 
 the movements of the armies. The first words on that 
 subject, however, seemed a signal for the party to break 
 up : his uncle interrupting him immediately, by saying 
 it was time to go to bed ; and the whole then retired, 
 wishing me good night, and a prosperous journey on the 
 morrow. 
 
 Their reserved conduct was not explained till the fol- 
 lowing morning, when, on rising early, I saw them 
 setting off from the court-yard ; and the aubergiste, as 
 inn-keepers generally do, came instantly to volunteer 
 every information he possessed regarding the guests who 
 were just gone. 
 
 “ Ay, poor people,” he said, “ silly people they are. 
 I told them they might trust to you, seigneur, and what 
 a protection it would be to them to have you with them ; 
 for they are a party of rich merchants, as you might well 
 see, sir, and doubtless have their pockets lined with 
 many a good gold piece, so that they are afraid of all 
 the bands of plunderers about, especially at the passages 
 of the rivers.” 
 
 “What religion are they of?” demanded I, nothing 
 doubting they were Protestants, as the landlord himself 
 was well known to be of my own creed. 
 
 To my astonishment, however, he answered that they 
 were “ poor misguided Catholics.” “ That is to say,” 
 he continued, “they are what people are beginning to 
 call now-a-days, I hear, politics, which means people 
 that are neither very much one thing nor the other. 
 That eldest one is the well-known Paris merchant, Mar- 
 tin Yern, who has so much to do with the Jews and 
 Lombards. I’ve a great notion he’s a Protestant at 
 
75 
 
 OB, HENKI DE CEBONS. 
 
 heart ; though his life, and all his goods, which he loves 
 better than his life, would be in jeopardy every hour in 
 Paris if he did not go to mass as regularly as the clock 
 strikes the hour. It seems that young Martin, the 
 nephew, had his father’s promise to be made a soldier 
 of; but the father died a month or so ago, which 
 brought them all into this part of the country, and old 
 Martin won’t hear of the boy’s taking to the sword. 
 Tet I would stake my life that they are attacked before 
 they get many miles further, and then they will find 
 that young Martin’s stout back and strong arm are both 
 shield and sword for them. I hope, sir, we shall have 
 good news of you at the army ; but you might as well 
 have won a few gold pieces by the way for conducting 
 three fat merchants safely. With what will you please 
 to break your fast p It is not well to set out fasting, as 
 they have done, and it’s good twelve miles ere you get 
 to Cavignac.” 
 
 “ I am not going to Cavignac, my good host,” I 
 replied, not choosing exactly to have my route settled 
 for me. 
 
 “ Ay, then,” he answered, “ you are going to Guitres, 
 which is further still ; but in that case you’ll have to 
 pass the Saye low down, and I fear that all the rain 
 which fell last night may have rendered the ford impass- 
 able. Besides all that, however, I heard that Lossac 
 and his band were lying between St. Aulaye and Cou- 
 tras, and it is even to be doubted whether he does not 
 keep parties scouring the whole country up as far as 
 Barbezieux, for he wants to prevent the bands from the 
 South from joining our great Admiral and the Prince de 
 Conde. So you had better take my advice and keep 
 hard away to the west, though you do get amongst the 
 sands, for you are not strong enough to do much against 
 any of his people, and must e’en have recourse to what 
 we call fox’s strength, by which I mean cunning.” 
 
 I thanked the aubergiste for his good information, 
 which was indeed not a little important to me, for the 
 armies of the Prince de Conde and the Duke of Mont- 
 pensier were so placed that it was difficult for either to 
 
76 
 
 THE MAN AT ABMS ; 
 
 reach its resources, and no less for any one wishing to 
 join the one, to avoid falling into the hands of the 
 other. 
 
 The tidings I had received cast me into a momentary 
 fit of musing ; and the aubergiste, seeing the effect his 
 words had produced, and at the same time having a 
 strong desire that I should take my breakfast at his 
 house, represented to me that, if I would but wait for 
 half an hour, a courier from Angouleme would pass 
 through Cubzac, and from him we could extract much 
 information. 
 
 I agreed to his suggestion ; and soon after the morn- 
 ing meal had been prepared, I heard the arrival of the 
 courier himself, and learned that he had passed a small 
 band of horse, whether troops of Lossac or not he could 
 not tell. They amounted not to more than six or seven 
 persons, he said, and were apparently moving back to- 
 wards Cercon. 
 
 These tidings having been obtained, I had nothing 
 further to detain me at Cubzac ; and paying the host 
 his reckoning, I mounted to my chamber, clothed my- 
 self in my good suit of steel ; and after calling loudly, 
 but in vain, for Andriot, to make the rest of my goods 
 and chattels into as small packages as possible, that they 
 might be carried more easily, I descended to the court- 
 yard, to see what had become of my young attendant 
 and my new follower, the latter of whom I had not seen 
 during the whole morning. 
 
 I found them together, behind some stables at the 
 back of the auberge, chaffering with a sturdy farmer of 
 the neighbourhood, in regard to a proposed exchange 
 of Master Moric Endem’s piece of lean cattle with a 
 fine, fresh, sturdy, but rather vicious horse, belonging 
 to the other. Moric had offered, it seems, to give his 
 own horse, and all the remains of the crown which I 
 had given him the day before, together with another 
 crown that Andriot had lent him, for the more powerful 
 and befitting charger which had been placed before his 
 eyes. The farmer, however, stood out for another piece 
 of money, and I was fain now to come forward and give 
 
Olt, HENRI HE CERONS. 71 
 
 it, though the price seemed to me somewhat exorbitant,* 
 The horse that Moric already possessed was anything 
 but fit for the journey ; and, as he willingly agreed that 
 I was to be considered the proprietor of the beast now 
 purchased, it gave me a greater command over him than 
 I might otherwise have obtained. 
 
 After all this was concluded, and the horse in his 
 hands, I gave a glance towards my new follower’s figure, 
 and saw that it certainly was as much improved as his 
 form and features would admit. The buff jerkin was 
 now cleared from its rusty stains and spots of dirt, and 
 was shining in the full freshness of chalk and yellow 
 ochre. It seemed scarcely dry as yet, indeed ; but that 
 circumstance he did not appear to mind, and the plain 
 steel cap with flying cheek-pieces, into which he had 
 thrust his head, had been painted with a sort of Indian 
 black since the night before, so as to look very smart, 
 without offering a very shining or conspicuous point to 
 the eye of a watchful enemy. 
 
 No other piece of armour had yet been put on, I sup- 
 pose in order to give the buff jerkin time to dry ; but 
 when, after having told him to hasten his preparations 
 for departure, I came down once more with Andriot to 
 mount my horse, I found Master Moric armed from 
 head to foot, with his cuirass also painted black : thus 
 hiding, in a great measure, the unseemly patch upon his 
 right side. 
 
 If I contemplated him with some attention, well pleased 
 with the neatly-trimmed beard and well- washed face, he 
 did not seem to regard me less narrowly or with less 
 apparent pleasure, scanning all the pieces of my arms 
 with an experienced eye, and rubbing his hands joyfully 
 as he saw how easily they set upon me. The ease with 
 which I managed my horse, too, though the brute kicked 
 
 * It was in fact exorbitant : for we find that the Duke of Mont- 
 pensie-r, himself holding the government of all these provinces, 
 only gave a hundred crowns to each captain for raising a company 
 »f foot, and three hundred crowns only to the Maitre de Camp of 
 eight or ten companies thus raised* 
 
78 
 
 THE MAH AT ARMS \ 
 
 and plunged most unmercifully on first being mounted, 
 gave him no less satisfaction; and it was only upon 
 Andriot that he bestowed some counsels and some re- 
 proof in regard to the unsoldierly manner in which he 
 had put on his morion. When all was completed, we 
 set out from Cubzac, and took our road onwards towards 
 Barbezieux. As we went, Moric treated me with a 
 large portion of his conversation, amusing by its quaint 
 drollery, but occasionally tiresome from touches of that 
 rhodomontade whereof he had been accused. Were his 
 own word to be believed, there was no great action 
 which had been enacted during the last half century 
 that he had not either absolutely performed himself or 
 had a very considerable and important share therein. 
 But he even w T ent beyond that; and when he began 
 telling a story of any one else, it very often happened 
 that he entirely forgot, before he came to the end of his 
 tale, the original hero with whom he set out, dropped 
 the third person, took up the first, changed the person 
 spoken of to himself, and performed all the last acts he 
 had to relate in his own person. 
 
 The most ludicrous instance of this kind of transfor- 
 mation took place while he was giving me an account 
 of the tournament at which King Henry II. had been 
 killed, not many years before, and at which Moric 
 had been present. He asserted that the fault which 
 occasioned the death of the king was entirely on the 
 part of Montgomery; but, before he had finished his 
 tale, he entirely forgot that declaration, got warm and 
 heated with the subject, was seized with a peculiar sort 
 of cupidity which induced him so constantly to appro- 
 priate the actions of others, and becoming Montgomery 
 himself, described how he had killed the King of France, 
 and explained with the utmost perspicuity and exacti- 
 tude the eager feelings with which he had been animated, 
 and which prevented him from recollecting in time, that 
 it was necessary to throw away instantly the broken 
 staff of his lance. 
 
 I could not help laughing at this absurdity, but he 
 
on, imnu de ceiions. 79 
 
 took it all in good part, laughed himself, and declared 
 that it was every word true, except that he was the 
 person who did it. 
 
 In many other respects, however, his conversation 
 was full of interest. He was an old and veteran soldier, 
 and full of information upon every practical point, both 
 of military tactics and military habits. As far as study 
 could render me acquainted with the subject, I was so 
 already ; but I gained more useful information from my 
 new follower in a few hours, more directions for employ- 
 ing well the science that I had acquired, than I could 
 have done from the best master of the art in weeks or 
 months. 
 
 From him, too, I learned all the habits and manners 
 of the camp ; the rules, the regulations, the etiquettes, 
 which I had before no notion of. What could and might 
 be done, what could not be done, he told me ; and I 
 found that, constituted as armies at that period were — 
 low in discipline, licentious in habits — with a little com- 
 plaisance to the great leaders, and the observation of a 
 few insignificant regulations, the captain of such a party 
 as I proposed to raise might, in fact, do anything that 
 he liked, and act totally independent of the General 
 during almost the whole of the campaign, provided he 
 showed himself daring and fearless, and ready to fight 
 whenever he was called upon. 
 
 As we were conversing in this manner, while we 
 pursued our onward way, we came to the high grounds 
 near the little hamlet of Marceau, and, looking down 
 over the country below, we saw a considerable number 
 of people riding along, as if in great haste and confu- 
 sion, upon the bank of the river ; while at some distance 
 to the right, another party appeared on the edge of the 
 little slope, and the sun, glittering upon the arms of the 
 latter, left no doubt whatever that they were troopers of 
 some kind. 
 
 “ Those are surely the poor merchants,” I said, “ who 
 left Cubzac this morning.” 
 
 “ Ay,” said the old soldier, “they are running away 
 ^om those worthies on the hill — some of Lossac’s peo 
 
80 
 
 THE MAtf AT AEMS ; 
 
 pie, I suppose. But the stupid fools have missed the 
 ford. It is there — a hundred yards to the right, and 
 they are running away from it. I know it as well as 
 my own buff jerkin. They will get themselves caught 
 and plundered, if they dont mind.” 
 
 “ Let us go down and help them ! ” I exclaimed. “ If 
 you know the ford we can reach them before the others, 
 and once having them across, we can turn and take a 
 blow or two with the pursuers.” 
 
 “ Bravo ! bravo, my captain ! ” cried Moric Endem. 
 “ That’s the way ! That’s the way ! It seems as if you 
 had been born and bred to it ! Always fight the enemy 
 when he’s not more than two to one ! I am with you, 
 my good captain ! ” 
 
 And spurring down the hill at all speed, we ap- 
 proached the party of merchants, who, terrified at seeing 
 one body of troopers on their right, and another on the 
 opposite side, paused and hesitated, till taking off my 
 steel cap I waved it in the air, calling to them not to be 
 afraid. 
 
 It seems that I was instantly recognised, for they 
 stopped, and some advanced towards me, while, pointing 
 with my hand toward the spot which Moric had indi- 
 cated as the ford, I shouted to them to ride in that way 
 with all speed. 
 
 People in a fright, however, never understand any- 
 thing that is said to them, and they did not obey my 
 directions till I reached them. Thus by the time we got 
 them to the side of the river, and some of the horses 
 into the water, the enemy was close upon us. The whole 
 adventure seemed to me just like one of the military 
 games which I had been accustomed to play with the 
 old retainers and my young cousins. Accompanied by 
 Moric Endom and Andriot, I turned my horse upon the 
 pursuers ; the lad Martin rode up in a minute to my 
 side ; one of his uncles could not resist following, and 
 by a sudden and unexpected charge we drove the enemy 
 back, who paused for a moment’s consideration before 
 they attacked us again. 
 
 “How, seigneur,” cried Moric, “quick over the 
 
OB, HENBI BE CEBONS. 81 
 
 stream, for the river is coming down like fury, and in 
 ten minutes more it will be impassable. We can easily 
 keep the opposite bank when we are over.” 
 
 I had remarked that the water was up to the girths 
 of the horses’ saddles when the party of merchants 
 passed, and therefore, without more ado, I gave the 
 necessary order for crossing the stream. We found that 
 the little river Saye, like some of the others that flow 
 into the Isle, being subject to a sudden increase, had 
 become a complete torrent — in consequence of the rain 
 which had fallen during the night — and that it was 
 swelling every moment, coming down in large brown 
 eddies, which nearly carried our horses off their feet. 
 Andriot and the two merchants who had remained with 
 us passed first, and I followed, thinking that my friend 
 Moric was close behind me. But in charging the Catho- 
 lics, one of their cavaliers had been struck to the ground, 
 slightly wounded, near the bank of the stream, and 
 Moric’ s fondness for plunder could not be restrained. 
 The enemy’s man at arms, indeed, had run away, but 
 the horse had somehow got his feet entangled with the 
 bridie, and remained very soberly lying on the ground. 
 
 Turning round, when I had half crossed the stream, I 
 perceived my worthy follower busily employed in strip- 
 ping the fallen horse, and I shouted to him that the 
 enemy was upon him. He looked up, however, calcu- 
 lated the distance nicely, finished the operation of 
 cutting the girths with his dagger, threw the rich saddle 
 and its caparisons on the crupper of his own horse, 
 sprang upon his beast’s back in a moment, and plunged 
 into the river, with the spears of the Catholics close at 
 his horse’s flanks. The water had risen even since I 
 had passed ; his horse was not quite so tall as mine, and 
 for a few feet had to swim ; but Moric Endem was never 
 at all discomposed by any such little adventure, and 
 keeping his spurs close to the horse’s sides, brought him 
 to land, not more than a few yards below the spot where 
 the rest were standing. 
 
 The catholic band pursued him into the water, and 
 one of them seemed inclined to follow his example in 
 
 6 
 
82 
 
 THE MAH AT ABMS ; 
 
 swimming; but Moric was by no means unprepared, 
 and snatching from the miscellaneous crowd of arm3 
 which surrounded his saddle a long horse-pistol, which 
 fired with a flint and wheel, he took a deliberate aim at 
 the pursuer’s horse and shot him in the water. Though 
 the wound was mortal, the horse, luckily for its rider, 
 dashed out of the river again before it fell, and Moric, 
 scarcely staying to mark the effect, proceeded calmly 
 and quietly to examine the saddle which he had taken, 
 to rip off the gold lace and velvet that covered it, and 
 to extract from the lining of the bow some twenty gold 
 pieces which were there stowed away for security. 
 
 Laughing at his prize, he rode up to us, and breaking 
 in upon the expressions of gratitude which the merchants 
 were pouring upon me, he pointed to the tops of a thick 
 wood of sapins, which were seen at the distance of about 
 two miles, saying, — 
 
 “ We had better ride on that way ; for if these fellows 
 see us remain talking here, they will go down to the 
 bridge and pursue us out of very spite. If we set off 
 for the wood at once, they will know that it is useless to 
 follow, and we shall go on in quiet.” 
 
 His advice was immediately attended to ; and stopping 
 on a little elevation before we reached the wood, we had 
 the satisfaction of seeing that the enemy had given up 
 the pursuit, and were slowly proceeding across the 
 country in another direction. 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 It was not till we had placed several miies between 
 us and the enemy, that the good merchants felt at all 
 satisfied of their security ; and they pursued their way 
 with a degree of eagerness which soon brought us into 
 the midst of the sandy tracks in the neighbourhood of 
 Chepuiers. We then came to the banks of a little 
 stream, the name of which I forget ; and, as the women 
 
83 
 
 OB, HENEI DE CEEOSTS. 
 
 and children were now evidently much tired, 1 assured 
 good Master Yern that there was no further danger from 
 those who had attacked his party; and, dismounting 
 from our horses upon the banks of the stream, we let 
 the beasts crop the scanty herbage, while we prepared 
 to repose and refresh ourselves from a good store of 
 provisions which the traders had brought with them: 
 from the inn. The faces of the women and children 
 were still somewhat pale, both from fear and fatigue, 
 and Martin Yern and his companion looked grave and 
 thoughtful, which I attributed to the risk their property 
 had just run. 
 
 Young Martin, however, who had been as far forward 
 in our little fray with the enemy as if he had been 
 armed with steel from head to foot, looked not a little 
 proud of his exploits, especially as somehow, I do not 
 very well know how, he had got a sharp gash upon the 
 forehead, which bled a little, and promised to leave a 
 military mark upon him that he was not likely easily 
 to get rid of. Seeing the two elder merchants standing 
 apart, busily talking to each other, I advanced to the 
 young man, and, shaking hands with him, complimented 
 him highly upon his courage and promptitude. He 
 grasped my hand again, but said nothing that was 
 audible, while the colour came up bright into his cheek, 
 and he looked confused as well as gratified. 
 
 Ere I had well concluded what I had to say, however, 
 Master Yern and his companion came up ; and the 
 former took my hand, saying, “ Permit me to touch your 
 hand, seigneur, and to offer you my very best thanks 
 for saving us all this day. The landlord of the inn at 
 Cubzac informed us in the morning that we might well 
 trust to you ; but we poor merchants going on business 
 from one part of the kingdom to another, are forced in 
 these troublous times to be so careful that sometimes 
 prudence acts the part of imprudence, and by refusing 
 to trust w r hen we ought, we do ourselves as much harm 
 as by trusting when we ought not.” 
 
 Not knowing very well where his harangue was about 
 to lead him, and never having been particularly fond 
 of thanks of any kind, I took the first opportunity of 
 
84 
 
 THE MAH AT ABMS ; 
 
 replying that what I had done was a mere nothing, a 
 piece of common humanity; and I added, laughing, 
 “ To-day’s adventure, good sir, should teach you Catholics 
 to treat us poor Protestants somewhat better than you 
 do; for here you have been attacked though unarmed, 
 and would doubtless have been plundered by your own 
 party, while you have been defended by Protestants 
 only because you were unoffending people.” 
 
 “ Oh, sir,” said both the merchants at once, “ we are 
 not the sort of Catholics you take us for. We look upon 
 the Protestants just as much like brethren as they do 
 each other. We see no reason why any man should be 
 condemned for worshipping God in his own way.” 
 
 “ There are many sorts of Catholics in Prance, sir,” 
 continued Martin Vern, “ and those who call us politics 
 well deserve the name themselves, for their religion is 
 all a matter of politics together. But, however, we are 
 no enemies to the Protestants ; for I am even now going 
 to the camp of the Prince de Conde to treat with him 
 on my own part, and that of my good friend, Solomon 
 Ahar, concerning some stores and other matters that he 
 requires.” 
 
 “ Indeed!” I said, with some surprise, “then I am 
 certainly the more glad that I have rendered you this 
 little service.” 
 
 “ The Prince de Conde will be glad, too, sir,” replied 
 the merchant ; “ and I shall take care that he knows to 
 whom it is owing. I think the aubergiste told me your 
 name was Monsieur Cerons. But all mere professions 
 of gratitude I know are vain; and my companion and 
 myself have agreed to beg your acceptance of this purse 
 of fifty crowns for the service that you have already 
 rendered us, promising you the same sum if you will 
 kindly conduct us in safety to the camp of the Prince.” 
 
 Heaven knows that I was as poor as might be, that 
 I calculated upon my sword as my sole means of fortune, 
 and that I could never have gained any little sum in a 
 more honest or honourable way. But yet it went 
 against me to take the man’s money, and I had to think 
 two or three times before I could bring myself to resolve 
 upon so doing. The merchant saw my situation; and 
 
Oft, HEtfftI 1)E CEftOKS. 85 
 
 not knowing how inexperienced I was in such matters, 
 attributed it to a wrong cause. 
 
 “We would offer you more, sir,” he said; “but the 
 fact is, the speculation on which we are going is a very 
 uncertain one. We cannot gain much, but we may lose 
 much. Otherwise ” 
 
 “Think not of that, think not of that,” I said; “I 
 was only hesitating whether I should take your money 
 at all. Nor would I do so, but the fact is I am but a 
 soldier of fortune, Monsieur Vern, and am now trying 
 to raise a troop with but small means of doing so. If 
 I take the money at all, therefore, it is for the purpose 
 of increasing my numbers as I go along, which will add 
 to your own security. Of the fifty pieces that you offer 
 me I shall give ten to each of the men, and will employ 
 the other thirty in recruiting, if I can meet with any 
 likely men either at Jonzac or Barbezieux. The other 
 fifty will depend upon whether we guide you well and 
 rightly, and that I shall take without hesitation, as that 
 to which I feel some right.” 
 
 “ You shall have deep thanks and gratitude into the 
 bargain,” replied the merchant; “and, although you 
 gentlemen of the sword do not value much the good- 
 will or services of us traders, occasions do happen some- 
 times when, according to the old fable, the mouse can 
 help the lion.” 
 
 He held the purse in his hand, and certainly his 
 words were well calculated to make the acceptance of it 
 palatable to me : yet I felt my cheek grow hot as I took 
 it, and I looked round towards the women and children 
 and the rest of the party, as if to see whether they were 
 looking at me. 
 
 In the meanwhile Andriot and Moric Endem were 
 aiding the merchant’s wife and the women servants to 
 lay out the provisions upon the banks of the stream ; and, 
 with all the facility of an old soldier, Moric had cast 
 down his steel cap, and was busily arranging the whole, 
 with many a dry jest and merry look and careless laugh- 
 ter, which made the women and the children soon forget 
 the terror that had seized them, and prevented them 
 even from perceiving the extraordinary ugliness of their 
 
86 
 
 THE HAK AT AEMS ; 
 
 gallant defender. A huge cold capon, which he in« 
 stantly christened “Monseigneur,” was placed in the 
 midst of the little circle ; manifold eggs w T ere arranged 
 neatly around; various stores of salted provisions, 
 tongues, lard, and sausages w T ere spread out by his 
 hands, with more taste than one might have expected, 
 and at length came two huge bottles of wine, which he 
 called the king and queen, with various other things, for 
 each of which he had a name. 
 
 As we all took our places around, however, it was dis- 
 covered suddenly that the eggs, which were to form no 
 inconsiderable part of the meal, had not been cooked. 
 
 “We could soon cook them,” cried Andriot, “for 
 there’s wood enough in the neighbourhood ; but w r here 
 are we to find wherewithal to cook them in ? ” 
 
 “ You get the wood, you get the wood, ’scapegrace,” 
 cried Moric ; “ run up the hill, and get the wood. You 
 show how long you have been a soldier. Don’t you 
 know that every man at arms carries a kettle on his 
 head, and a frying-pan on his stomach ? Get you gone, 
 and come back speedily, and leave the cooking to me.” 
 
 “ Now, we will put him in a fright for his polished 
 morion,” continued Moric, after the youth was gone, at 
 the same time collecting some dry sticks and grass that 
 lay about, and striking a light. “ Susanne, my pretty 
 one,” he continued, to one of the little girls, “I see 
 some branches lying there ; go and fetch them, while I 
 blow the fire up.” 
 
 And using his mouth for a pair of bellows, he had 
 contrived to kindle a strong flame by the time that 
 Andriot and the girl had returned. “Now, Andriot,” 
 he went on, “take off your morion, there’s a good 
 youth ; fill it with water out of the stream, and you 
 shall see that we will boil the eggs in a minute.” 
 
 “ Had I not better take yours, Master Moric ? ” said 
 the young man, looking somewhat ruefully at him. 
 
 Moric burst into a shout of laughter, in which all the 
 rest of the party joined. “ Come, come,” cried Moric, 
 “ since thou art stingy of thy morion, Andriot, w r e will 
 roast the eggs, though it is a difficult task, *ud not to be 
 undertaken by any but an old woman or an old soldier. 
 
OB, HEtfBI BE CEBONS. 87 
 
 * There’s an art in roasting of eggs, there’s an art in roasting of 
 eggs : 
 
 And he who would run before he can walk, must first learn to 
 use his legs.’ ” 
 
 Thus sung Moric Endem in a tolerably good voice, as 
 he laid the eggs in order amongst the hot wood-ashes : 
 and there was something so contagious in the gay, care- 
 less merriment which my new follower displayed, that I 
 never beheld a meal pass more cheerfully than did ours 
 of that day, by the banks of the little stream. Moric’ s 
 eggs proved to be excellent, and of the wine, which was 
 excellent also, he was permitted, in recompense, to have 
 his full share. It had no perceptible effect upon him, 
 however ; more cheerful it could not make him, and his 
 head was a great deal too well seasoned to the juice of 
 the grape, for his faculties to be disturbed by it. 
 
 Before we rose to go on our way, I produced the 
 purse which I had received from the merchant, and 
 bestowed ten crowns from it upon the old soldier, with 
 the like sum upon Andriot. The eyes of both glistened 
 not a little at the treasure they had so rapidly acquired, 
 and Moric starting up, drew me on one side, saying, — 
 
 “ That puts me in mind of something. Now, mon- 
 seigneur, I have got some plunder you know to divide, 
 which came out of that fellow’s saddle. We have said 
 nothing yet about the way we intend to divide it ; but I 
 tell you what I saw tried in the last war, and which is 
 the best plan; namely, this: that everything wdiich is 
 brought in is given up to the captain. Every week it is 
 divided amongst the whole band, the number of lots 
 being just one more than the band, including the cap- 
 tain. He has two lots, and every other man one. That 
 makes each man do his best for the whole, and see that 
 others do the best too ; and the captain, who has a great 
 many things to pay, and to do for us all, has something 
 to do it with, and a little more. Ransoms, however, and 
 compositions, and such things, are, of course, regulated 
 differently, according to the laws of arms, and each man 
 keeps his own. Also, of any plunder taken in a general 
 battle, you know, a part goes to the leader whose cornet 
 
83 
 
 THE MAN AT ARMS J 
 
 we figlit under ; but only be sure in making terms with 
 the general, that you get his authority for dealing with 
 your own men according to your own way, and bind 
 yourself as little as you can to the laws and regulations 
 of other people.” 
 
 “ Somewhat freebooting advice, Master Moric,” I re- 
 plied, “ though not bad in some respects. But, never- 
 theless, you must remember that I have honour and 
 glory to gain, and to make a name for my band too, as 
 well as to acquire money and plunder.” 
 
 “ The one’s the way to do the other,” replied Moric. 
 “ Your way to get honour and renown for yourself and 
 your band, is to fight like a lion, and make your men 
 fight, and depend upon it, every one fights ten times as 
 well when he thinks he is to get something for it, as 
 when he thinks that everything he takes is to be shared 
 with the whole army.” 
 
 There was some reason in what the man said, and I 
 then proceeded to consult him in regard to obtaining 
 some new recruits as speedily as possible. 
 
 “Oh! we shall find some at Jonzac,” he said, “no 
 doubt of it ! The people are arming all over the coun- 
 try, and few have yet taken service with any one. All 
 the daring fellows that are ready to eat fire and brim- 
 stone served up hot out of a cannon’s mouth, will choose 
 some free band such as ours, depend upon it, and we 
 shall have our share, though it’s a pity you are not better 
 known amongst the old soldiers. However, my face 
 will do you some good. People don’t forget it when 
 once they have seen it, and the task of guarding these 
 merchants will have its effect too ; for the men will think 
 that there’s something to be gained at least, which is 
 true too.” 
 
 “ Why, for that matter,” I said, “ you may give each 
 known man that you can meet with, a couple of crowns 
 as earnest, and promise them two more at the end of our 
 journey.” 
 
 “ Then we are safe enough ; then we are safe enough!” 
 cried Moric. “We shall have plenty of men, depend 
 upon it, and good men too. There’s nothing like a bird 
 
0 % &ENRI DE CERONS. 89 
 
 ii the hand — one of these yellow birds I mean. Why, 
 four crowns certain, to begin with ! Four golden 
 crowns ! That is enough to buy a Protestant count or 
 a Catholic archbishop at any time. But we had better 
 not increase the band too much at first, sir ; for if you 
 go with too many, you will either not have room for 
 many of the best men that we find straying about the 
 camp, or else you’ll have the band so large that some 
 one of the leaders will be for having you under his 
 command altogether.” 
 
 u Why, from your account, Moric,” I said, “ it seems 
 to me that every one does very much what he likes in the 
 camp, whether he be under command or not.” 
 
 “ There’s some truth in that, sir,” replied the man. 
 “ There’s much truth in that. Every man in the Protes- 
 tant army does what he likes; for, receiving no pay 
 from any one (but such as some of the lords give their 
 own men), no one has right to say to another, Do this 
 or do that ; and it only happens every now and then, 
 that this sweet prince, or that charming general, hangs 
 one or two of his beloved volunteers, just to prove that 
 his authority is what it is not, and that he has some 
 power when, in reality, he has none. Then, amongst 
 the Catholics, it is even worse ; for, though they have 
 the right and the power too, if they choose to exert it, 
 yet every lord has his own will, and his ow r n way ; and, 
 from the King down to the valet, every one is afraid of 
 offending the man below him, and driving him to sing 
 psalms in French instead of in Latin. But, at the same 
 time, it is just as well to have good authority for what 
 one does ; and a man who comes fresh to offer his 
 services, with ten or a dozen stout troopers at his back, 
 may make what bargain he likes ; and the best bargain 
 ; is the freest.” 
 
 While this conversation, and some more of a similar 
 nature, was carried on between myself and Moric Endem, 
 the merchants and their train were preparing to pursue 
 their journey, saddling their beasts, gathering together 
 various portions of their goods and chattels, which had 
 been unpacked to arrive at the provisions, and placing 
 
90 THE MAN AT ABMS ; 
 
 the women and children on the horses destined to carry 
 them. 
 
 I and my two followers mounted speedily to accom- 
 pany them ; and, when everything was ready, we set out 
 together, I entering now into my first employ in arms, 
 as the guard and protector of a party of rich merchants. 
 I believe I fulfilled the task pretty well, and did not 
 suffer my inexperience to appear, at least to the eyes of 
 any but Moric Endem. He, however, in the presence 
 of our new companions, showed the utmost deference 
 to his leader ; and a little incident which happened at 
 Jonzac, tended, perhaps, to increase his respect, full as 
 much as the promptitude with which I had turned upon 
 the enemy in the morning. 
 
 *We had arrived towards nightfall; and, sitting down 
 in the public room of the inn, as usual, found at the 
 other end of the table a somewhat noisy and excited 
 party of soldiery ; that little town being then entirely 
 in the hands of the Protestants, and the inhabitants 
 being very generally arming to support the Admiral and 
 the Prince de Cond6. Those who were at the end of the 
 table were evidently raw to the service, and of the very 
 useful class of pedescaux, or foot soldiers, and one or two 
 of them seemed to have drunk a sufficient quantity of 
 wine to make them insolent. Taking upon myself the 
 place that my rank, both as a gentleman and as the 
 leader of the whole party entitled me to, I advanced at 
 once to the top of the table, and, placing myself there, 
 arranged the merchants and their families on either side ; 
 and, to guard as well as possible against any annoyance, 
 I told Moric Endem to place himself at the end of the 
 line on one side, and Andriot on the other. 
 
 My precaution proved not in vain ; for, after eyeing 
 us for a few moments, the conversation of the soldiery 
 at the other end of the table evidently turned upon us, 
 and a great deal of laughter and jesting took place, 
 which made the colour come and go in the merchants, 
 cheeks. ¥e had fallen well upon the hour of supper, so 
 that the last meal ot the day was speedily set before us : 
 but the laughing of the other guests became more loud 
 
91 
 
 OB, HENBI DE CEEONS. 
 
 than before, and it seemed that some of the elder and 
 more experienced were busily engaged in instigating a 
 heavy-looking, burly youth, of twenty or one-and-twenty, 
 to do something to insult or annoy us. 
 
 At length I distinctly heard the words, “ You dark 
 not !” and the reply, “ I dare !” And, at the same time, 
 the young man pushed the settle from behind him, and 
 walked up to the part of the table where we were sitting. 
 The women looked terrified behind them ; but the man, 
 without saying anything to any one, stooped over and 
 lifted a dish, as yet untouched, from before Martin Yern. 
 Moric Endem, who was on the other side, was instantly 
 starting up ; but I exclaimed, in a tone of authority, 
 “ Sit down, Moric Endem ! ” 
 
 “ As you please, monseigneur,” replied the man. 
 
 “ Put down that dish instantly ! ” I said to the young 
 man, who looked somewhat aghast, either at his own 
 daring, or at the “ Monseigneur ” which Moric Endem 
 had given me. I was rising as I spoke, but the man hesi- 
 tated, while a loud laugh, evidently at his expense, burst 
 from his fellows below. 
 
 “ Put down that dish!” I exclaimed again, in a voice 
 that made the hall echo ; and as he did not instantly 
 obey, I struck him a single blow on the side of the head, 
 which, coming from an arm well practised, and not par- 
 ticularly weak, stretched him at full-length upon the 
 floor, with sauces and condiments floating round him. 
 It luckily so happened that the aubergiste himself w T as 
 in the room at the moment ; and, taking instant advan- 
 tage of the dead silence that ensued, I said, in as calm a 
 tone as possible, “ Landlord, bring in another dish, and 
 charge that which is on the floor to those persons who 
 are at the other end of the table.” 
 
 '“'Certainly, monseigneur! certainly!” replied the 
 aubergiste, impressed as much as I could desire by what 
 had taken place; and I quietly returned to my place, 
 and proceeded in carving the boiled beef, in the distri- 
 bution of which I had been interrupted. 
 
 In the meanwhile my fallen friend raised himself up, 
 glanced at me for a moment with uncertain rage, of 
 
92 ME MAK AS AHMS \ 
 
 which I took not the slightest notice, and then, returning 
 to his companions, spoke a word or two, sullenly, to 
 them. They laughed, but in a much lower tone than 
 before; and a brief and muttered consultation seemed 
 to be held, while the landlord brought in a new dish, 
 and deposited it before Martin Yern. As the landlord 
 passed them, however, one of the party beckoned him 
 up and asked him something in a whisper, and I could 
 then hear my own name passing from mouth to mouth, 
 with various additions and improvements, at the fancy 
 of the retailers, as “The Seigneur de Cerons!” “The 
 Count de Cerons ! ” “ The celebrated Count de Cerons ! ” 
 “ The Seigneur de Cerons, Colonel- General of the In- 
 fantry !” 
 
 It was clear, however, that the whole party — whether 
 these additions had been made by the magnifying powers 
 of Moric Endem, when he announced my name to the 
 host, or not — it was clear that the whole party, even 
 now, determined to look upon me as a very great man, 
 and to make that an excuse to themselves for sneaking 
 away without taking any further notice of the chastise- 
 ment inflicted on their companion. Accordingly, after 
 hesitating and looking doubtful, and whispering for 
 several minutes more, one by one they disappeared 
 through the doorway, and we were left in possession of 
 the hall to discuss our supper in tranquillity. 
 
 I should not have mentioned the subject at all in con- 
 versation with my companions ; but both Martin Vern 
 and his nephew talked of it, laughing, as soon as the 
 others were gone ; and while they loaded me with thanks 
 and praises, made many a shrewd and jesting comment 
 upon the pusillanimity of the departed. The affair had 
 another effect, however, for the landlord’s voice was 
 heard several times, without, talking loud to different 
 persons ; and, from two or three words that could be 
 distinguished, I found that he was thus loud in my 
 praise. When, at length, he was putting some dessert 
 upon the table before us, he spoke to me in a whisper, 
 saying, “ that there were, without, two or three gentle- 
 men who had served in the last war, who had taken arms 
 
OB, HEKBI BE CEKONS. 93 
 
 again, and were very anxious to know whether I could 
 and would receive them into my company ? ” 
 
 I replied, “ that I could not leave the party I was 
 escorting, but that I would send my lieutenant, by which 
 sonorous name I dignified good Moric Endem, to speak 
 with them at once ; preferring in such a case to trust to 
 his judgment rather than to my own. The result was that 
 he engaged for me five as stout fellows as ever were seen, 
 of whom he had known something in the preceding 
 wars, and who also had the advantage of coming to me 
 with horses, arms, and accoutrements all complete. 
 The whole of this was settled during that evening, and 
 the joy and satisfaction which I myself might feel at my 
 growing importance, was far outdone by that of good 
 Martin Yern and his companions, who now thought 
 themselves perfectly competent to encounter any Catho- 
 lic force in the neighbourhood. Two more, but not 
 exactly of such good stuff, were added to our number 
 at Barbezieux, and thus forming a troop of ten men, we 
 advanced on the road to Angouleme, as far, or perhaps 
 further, than it was prudent so to do. 
 
 We had heard that the Prince de Conde and the rest 
 were at that time at the town of Sainctes ; but a few 
 miles on the other side of Barbezieux, we learned that 
 the army had marched in a different direction, and, 
 apparently, quitted the Charente. News, too, was here 
 received that the Catholic garrison of St. Jean d’Angelv 
 had sent out considerable detachments into the country 
 on the side of Pons ; while light-armed troops from 
 Angouleme were scouring the country in every direction, 
 for the purpose, it was supposed, of supplying the city 
 in case of siege. 
 
 In conversing over these affairs, which certainly bore a 
 somewhat menacing aspect, with Martin Yern, I found 
 that he was determined to proceed with his nephew and 
 his partner to the camp of the Prince de Conde, but was 
 in a state of very considerable alarm on account of his 
 wife and children. TJnder these circumstances, I advised 
 him strongly to despatch messengers to . the Duke of 
 Montpensier, who was at that time, we understood, at St# 
 
94 
 
 THE MAH AT AEMS ; 
 
 Junien, in order to demand a safe conduct for his family, 
 which I knew would immediately he given on his de- 
 claring them to he all Catholics. He seized at the 
 proposal eagerly; a messenger was easily found, and 
 set out with directions to pass on the other side of 
 Angouleme on his return, and to meet us at Cognac*, 
 whither we now hent our steps with slow and cautious 
 journeys. Cognac we found in the hands of a small 
 Protestant force, and we then first learned that the siege 
 of Angouleme hy the Prince de Conde had actually 
 begun. 
 
 ' The rest of our journey would have been easily com- 
 pleted, even without the safe conduct ; but as Martin 
 Yern was aware that he should have to return to 
 Bordeaux himself at all events, he judged it best to wait 
 for the safe conduct in the suburb of Cognac, and to send 
 the women of his party on at once to Paris, as it was im- 
 possible to say what turn the war might take. 
 
 Though the Protestant force at Cognac would not ad- 
 mit ray soldiery within the limits of their little garrison, 
 I there made the acquaintance of several officers and 
 gentlemen attached to the cause of freedom, and made 
 myself still further acquainted practically with the habits 
 of a camp and an army. I had now under my command 
 several good and experienced soldiers, but Moric Endem 
 was still my chief adviser, and I was glad to find myself 
 justified to the full, in having trusted him so far, by the 
 opinions and commendation of all the military men with 
 whom I was now brought in contact. Every one 
 laughed when his name was mentioned, but every one 
 also declared that he was as brave as a lion, and might 
 with safety be trusted by those who chose to trust him 
 fully. Those who chose to show him, on the contrary, 
 either unkindness, or want of confidence, would need, 
 they said, the eyes of Argus to prevent the old soldier 
 from finding some means of retribution. The short time 
 we spent at Cognac gave me an opportunity also of be- 
 coming more thoroughly acquainted with my men, and 
 of making them generally aware of my views and pur-* 
 poses. 
 
95 
 
 OB, HEffBI DE CEBONS. 
 
 At length, with the interval of one day, the safe con- 
 duct arrived, and, with many embraces and some tears, 
 good Martin Vern saw his wife and children depart for 
 Paris. An hour or two after they were gone, we our- 
 selves commenced our march ; and just as evening was 
 setting in, saw the high hill of Angouleme rising above 
 the lesser slopes that border the Charente. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 It was night when we reached the outposts of the Prince 
 de Condi’s camp, and we were stopped by a small body 
 of soldiers who demanded the sign, which of course we 
 could not give. Our errand was soon explained, how- 
 ever, and we were led on into the camp, which was 
 neither entrenched nor defended in any other way. It 
 presented a gay mixed scene, where little regularity of 
 any kind existed, till once one had passed the skirts of 
 the camp, where plenty of disorder was going on. My 
 followers were left at the second guard, while I and the 
 merchants, on foot, were led through canvas streets and 
 squares, formed by long lines of tents, to the spot where 
 the pavilion of the Prince de Conde was pitched. 
 Though certainly not a very convenient dwelling, it 
 was divided into two chambers, if not three, and we 
 were detained in the outer one while the prince was in- 
 formed of our arrival. 
 
 The pride of arms and of birth made me imagine that 
 I should be called to his presence immediately, though 
 we found he was at supper. But I was disappointed, 
 for the merchants were much more important people at 
 that moment in the eye of the prince, than any small 
 leader like myself, and they were ushered in very soon, 
 while I remained without, talking with one of the 
 prince’s attendants, who remained sitting with me, as if 
 it were in the ante-chamber. 
 
 The conference of the Protestant leader with the mer- 
 
96 
 
 THE MAH AT ARMS ; 
 
 chants seemed interminably long, and the occasional 
 laughter and merriment that I heard made me think that 
 the conversation was protracted after all real business 
 was over. At length, however, they came out, and I was 
 summoned to the presence of the prince, while Martin 
 Yern, in passing, said, “ We will wait for you here.” 
 
 I found the prince seated still at supper, with a man 
 considerably older than himself, though yet in the prime 
 of life. His countenance was remarkably handsome, far 
 more so, indeed, than his figure, and there was in his 
 eyes that sort of sparkling impetuosity which well indi- 
 cated the character of the man. He received me with a 
 smiling countenance, and made me take a seat near him. 
 
 “ It is always pleasant, Monsieur de Cerons,” he said, 
 “ to receive new friends and companions ; but still more 
 pleasant to receive one who bears back to our camp an 
 illustrious name which has been too long banished from 
 the roll of arms. I take it for granted I speak to the 
 son of that Monsieur de Cerons who just twenty years 
 ago distinguished himself in the attack upon the forts at 
 Boulogne, and, to the regret of the whole army, fell upon 
 the occasion. I grieve to say that I knew little of him, 
 for that was my first campaign, and I was not worthy of 
 the notice of so distinguished a soldier ; but my friend, 
 Monsieur d’Andelot, here, was his companion in many 
 a well-fought field.” 
 
 “I was indeed, young gentleman,” said D’Andelot, 
 “ and I must say a better soldier or a braver man never 
 existed. You are very like him, and I trust are as like 
 him in character as you are in person.” 
 
 “ It is with the hope of proving that, sir, that I come 
 here,” I replied ; and judging it more respectful to the 
 distinguished officers with whom I was speaking to say 
 as little as possible, I ceased there. 
 
 “ I doubt not that you will completely fill his place 
 amongst us,” replied the prince, after a moment’s 
 thought. “ Indeed, Monsieur de Cerons, we have every 
 reason to believe so from the account these good mer- 
 chants have given us of your conduct on the road. You 
 do not know what an obligation you have laid upon us 
 
97 
 
 OB, HENRI DE CERONS. 
 
 by bringing them safely hither; for, on my faith and 
 honour, I think, without their help, we should not have 
 been able to carry on the campaign : for though every 
 one here fights for good-will, yet men must have food, 
 and cannons and arquebuses are poor contrivances with- 
 out powder and shot. These merchants tell us you have 
 a troop with you, Monsieur de Cerons ?” 
 
 I evidently saw that it was the design of the prince 
 to give me notice in a quiet and passive manner, that 
 I was to expect no pay for my services, and at the 
 same time to ascertain with what views and purposes I 
 came.^ , 
 
 “ My troop is not a large one, my lord,” I replied ; 
 “ at present it comprises but ten men. They are all, 
 however, stout men at arms, and have some experience ; 
 and I hope to increase my troop to double that number. 
 It is fit, my lord, however, that I should tell you that 
 my father left nothing but his sword ; and it is needful, 
 to myself, that I should raise myself by arms, and, to 
 my men, that 1 should be enabled to maintain them by 
 the sword.” 
 
 “ Aye,” replied the prince, “I understand — make the 
 horse feed the horse. But it is somewhat difficult to 
 know what to do. ¥e cannot and must not drive away 
 such bands as yours, especially when led by such a 
 gentleman as yourself. As little can we expect them to 
 range themselves under any regular leader, when we 
 have no pay whatever to give them ; and yet it is abso- 
 lutely necessary that both I myself and Monsieur de 
 Coligny should put a stop to everything like indiscrimi- 
 nate plunder. Were we not to do so we should soon 
 have the whole country rising upon us.” 
 
 “ I am not one, my lord,” I replied, “ to wish that it 
 should be otherwise. All I desire is, that, in order to 
 keep my men together, I may have, as it were, a detached 
 command of my own people under your highness’s com- 
 mission, in order that, by fair war against the enemy in 
 arms, I may be enabled to maintain my troop and 
 advance myself. Neither the threshold of the cottage, 
 nor the hearth of the citizen, shall ever be invaded by 
 
 7 
 
98 THE MAST AT ARMS; 
 
 my troopers. I only want permission to attack the 
 enemy whenever I can find occasion, and to cut off 
 from him, as my legitimate prize, whatever I can meet 
 with.” 
 
 “ That is soon granted,” replied the Prince de Conde, 
 “if we understand each other rightly. But what is 
 that in your hand, Monsieur de Cerons ? It seems a 
 letter.” 
 
 “I had forgotten it, my lord,” I said; “it is one 
 addressed to your highness, — on my behalf, I believe.” 
 
 The Prince took and read it, and then turning, with a 
 smile, to D’Andelot, he said, “We shall have Stuart 
 with us in less than ten days, and he does more service, 
 you know, than any ten besides. — Now, Monsieur de 
 Cerons, my friend Stuart here has explained all your 
 plans more clearly than yourself ; and indeed it is not 
 always so easy to explain one’s self as to let another do 
 it. I fear very much, however, that you have attached 
 yourself to the wrong side of the question, as far as 
 obtaining wealth, at least, is concerned. You shall have, 
 however, what seamen, I believe, call a roving commis- 
 sion, and on the following terms, remember: During 
 all marches, countermarches, and on general service, 
 you shall have the opportunity allowed you of doing as 
 you please. At other times, such as the eve of a general 
 battle, the assault of a town, or any similar operation, 
 you shall render yourself into the camp on due notice. 
 In short, any special order given to you, by me or by 
 the Admiral de Coligny, you shall obey as strictly as 
 any other soldier ; but at the times when you are with- 
 out any such orders, you shall not be called to account 
 for anything you do at your own hand, with these pro- 
 visoes, that you shall neither commit, nor suffer to be 
 committed by your people, any outrage upon or pillage 
 of the peasantry of the country ; that you shall neither 
 exact contributions from villages or hamlets, or places 
 friendly or unarmed, nor permit any plunder in towns 
 taken by capitulation; and, in fact, shall only wage 
 honourable war against enemies with arms in their 
 hands. Nor shall you receive money called pati 7 or 
 
99 
 
 OB, HENEI BE CEEOKS. 
 
 sufferance, from any persons whatsoever. On these 
 conditions, all prizes whatsoever, captured by yourself, 
 shall be at your own disposal, without claim or inter- 
 vention from any person. This is all that can be done 
 for you, and if it suits you it shall be done.” 
 
 “It suits me perfectly, my lord,” I replied; “I 
 require nothing more; and, as far as in me lies, will 
 never be absent from my post when my services may be 
 wanted.” 
 
 Some further conversation ensued between the Prince, 
 D’ An delot, and myself, in which a great many other 
 matters were settled with regard to my lodging in the 
 camp, &c. ; and, sending for his secretary, the Prince de 
 Conde gave orders for the commission to be drawn up, 
 which was immediately done, giving me authority to 
 raise a company of fifty men, and embodying all the 
 stipulations contained above. 
 
 As soon as I had received it I rose to depart; but 
 D’ Andelot, after whispering for a moment to the Prince, 
 said, “ It always gives an officer great honour, Monsieur 
 de Cerons, to begin his career in any new service with 
 some brilliant exploit. Now, we propose to-morrow to 
 attack the breach at Angouleme, which has been made 
 by our batteries yesterday and to-day. The leading of 
 this assault, indeed, has been given to Monsieur de 
 Gfenissac ; but we have no doubt that he will suffer you 
 to be his companion, if you choose to mount the breach 
 amongst the first, along with your men. The breach is 
 in the wall of what is called the Park ; but we will send 
 Genissac to you in the course of to-morrow morning. 
 You will be supported by the regiment of Monsieur de 
 Corbouson, and you are to remember to obey promptly 
 the orders you receive from thence.” 
 
 It may well be supposed that, eager as I was to dis- 
 tinguish myself, I caught at the offer without hesitation. 
 In this instance I had not the slightest fears in regard 
 to my own inexperience, for I knew that I had nothing 
 to do but to fight with courage and determination ; and, 
 having ascertained the hour that the assault was likely 
 to take place, I retired to seek my quarters, which were 
 
100 
 
 THE MAN AT ABMS ; 
 
 assigned to me in one of the little suburbs of tbe town, 
 as I had informed the Prince that I had yet no tents 
 with me. 
 
 In the ante-room I found the worthy merchants, and 
 with them returned to the spot where I had left my men. 
 As we went, Martin Yern informed me that he was to 
 go back to Bordeaux early on the following morning, 
 and asked if he could execute any commission for me in 
 that city, from which he intended to return again in ten 
 or twelve days. He said nothing more at that time, but 
 accompanied me to the little auberge in the suburb, 
 after I had lodged my men as I had been directed, and 
 had given some directions to Moric Endem. I found the 
 hall of the inn, as may well be conceived, a scene of con- 
 fusion almost indescribable. At first it seemed to me 
 that everybody was talking, everybody was singing, 
 everybody was drinking, and everybody was snuffing 
 the candles at the same time. Eyes swimming with 
 excitement or dropping with sleepiness, faces heated 
 and flushed with drink, mouths wide open with oaths, 
 vociferations, or songs, and outstretched arms crossing 
 each other in various directions were to be seen on 
 every side, while the din and uproar were absolutely 
 deafening. 
 
 The scene did not seem to strike the merchants as 
 much as it did me ; but Martin Yern turned out of the 
 room again, almost as soon as he had entered it, saying, 
 “We shall doubtless find less confusion somewhere 
 else and, after looking into the kitchen, in the hopes 
 that, protected by the awful genius of the culinary art, 
 that place might be found somewhat more quiet, he 
 mounted the stairs, and walked from bedroom to bed- 
 room, which had all been turned into eating or drinking 
 rooms, and which were, in most instances, crammed to 
 the very doors. 
 
 At length we came to one large room, which might 
 contain perhaps twenty people, ranged at different 
 tables, and enjoying themselves more soberly. The 
 secret of this was, that the tenants were all officers, and 
 the common soldiery judged it more expedient to pursue 
 
101 
 
 OR, HENRI DE CERONS. 
 
 their potations in other rooms. The officers, too, might 
 perhaps themselves desire a little quiet, and I remarked 
 that several of them looked up and scanned us closely, 
 as if to satisfy themselves that the intruders were likely 
 to he more tranquil and orderly than the parties assem- 
 bled in other places. 
 
 There was one table vacant, near a window, at the 
 very further end of the room, and at that we seated 
 ourselves, glad to be as far as possible from the general 
 roar that rushed up the stairs and through the passages. 
 A boy, who was running from table to table with the 
 activity of a marmoset, came up to inquire what we 
 wished for supper ; and as soon as he had left us, Master 
 Yern leant across the table, and asked me, — 
 
 “ Now, Monsieur de Cerons, have you no commands 
 for Bordeaux ? for I have many things to do, and per- 
 haps may not have the opportunity of speaking to you 
 to-morrow.” 
 
 After thinking for a moment or two, I replied that I 
 feared there was no commission that I could give ; that 
 I longed, indeed, to hear of my relations at the chateau 
 de Blancford, but I did not know how to compass it. 
 
 “ That is easily done, Monsieur de Cerons/’ said the 
 merchant ; “I am going to the chateau de Blancford 
 myself. There is scarcely a noble in the land that we 
 merchants have not something to do with. The baron 
 must have reached the chateau by this time, for he was 
 to leave Paris in three weeks after we did. — Come, come, 
 Monsieur de Cerons,” he said, seeing that I hesitated, 
 “ I have many a time remarked, since you were with us, 
 that something weighs upon your mind. We owe you 
 a great deal, not only for good service, but for kindness. 
 Sit down and write a few lines to your friends, and w r e 
 will find means that you shall have an answer. Believe 
 your mind, my friend, relieve your mind by words. 
 Depend upon it, the best remedy for a heavy heart is to 
 cast off part of the load upon paper.” 
 
 “ But I have no means of writing here,” I said, “and 
 fear it will be difficult to procure them.” 
 
 “ What ! a merchant without paper and ink?” cried 
 
102 
 
 THE MAK AT ABMS 5 
 
 Martin Vern, opening a pocket in the lining of his cloak, 
 and taking out all the requisites ; “ that would never do. 
 There, Monsieur de Cerons, write, write, and I will take 
 care it shall reach its address.’ ’ 
 
 I took the paper and pen that he gave me, and with 
 the first impulse of my heart wrote a few lines to my 
 sweet cousin, Louise. The terms in which I spoke were 
 precisely such as I should have used before my depar- 
 ture. I bade her not forget me, nor the affection which 
 had existed between us ever since our childhood. I 
 bade her recall me to the remembrance of her brothers 
 and La Tour. I told her that I should never forget or 
 cease to love her and them, and I assured her that 
 nothing but absolute necessity and the fear of giving 
 them all bitter pain would have led me to quit them 
 without bidding them adieu, as I had done. This 
 brought me to speak of my situation at the time, and I 
 told her that I had met with much greater success than 
 I could have expected ; that I was already at the head 
 of a small band ; and that I was to lead, in company 
 with another, the assault upon Angoul6me on the fol- 
 lowing morning. A few words of affection and kindness 
 succeeded, and, having folded and sealed the letter, I 
 put the address upon it, and gave it into the hands of 
 Martin Yern. 
 
 He looked at the address, and when he saw the name 
 a sober and somewhat melancholy smile came over his 
 face, and putting it up carefully, he said, “ It shall go 
 safe.” 
 
 Shortly after this, the head of Moric Endem made its 
 appearance at the door, and seeing me seated at the 
 opposite table, he entered the room, and came across 
 towards me. Ere he had proceeded half-way to the 
 table, however, three or four of the officer# who were 
 dining at the different tables around started up, and 
 one of them exclaimed, “ Why, Moric Endem ! What ! 
 
 ! rou, old comrade ! is it you come back to join us ? and 
 ooking fat and well-feathered too !” 
 
 “Ay, my good friends; ay, ay,” said Moric, “here 
 I am ; but I am in leading-strings, my boys ; I am in 
 
OB, HEKRI EE CERQKS. 
 
 103 
 
 leading-strings. I’m baby Moric now, and there’s my 
 nurse — my captain, I mean to say ; so I must go and 
 speak to him, for I have a good word for his ear.” 
 “If he seeks to fill his purse,” said one, looking at 
 me across the room, “you’re the man for him ; for you 
 could always fill a purse, but never keep one.” 
 
 “ Too true, good friend, too true,” replied Moric, 
 advancing towards me ; “ but I will do better this 
 time.” 
 
 They all shook their heads, however, with a laugh ; 
 and Moric came on and sat down beside me. He had 
 lost no time in pursuing his avocations, and informed 
 me that he had already seen and spoken with nearly 
 twenty of his old comrades who were hanging about 
 the camp and seeking for employment. They were 
 rather more difficult, however, in their choice than those 
 which I had already enlisted ; for not one of them would 
 server with a leader who had never served at all. 
 
 “We must make up to-morrow, sir,” said Endem, 
 “ for your idleness hitherto. It answered no purpose 
 my telling them that you would do this or do that ; the 
 answer always was — Let us see him fight. So to- 
 morrow, at the assault, we must eat fire and brimstone, 
 to show what sort of stuff we are made of.” 
 
 “ Lather a hot breakfast, Master Moric,” I replied ; 
 “ but, nevertheless, I don’t think I shall find my appe- 
 tite fail.” 
 
 This conversation had been carried on in a low tone, 
 but, nevertheless, it had caught the ears of the mer- 
 chants ; and one of them asked me at what time it was 
 intended to storm the breach. I replied that I really 
 did not know, as I had not received my orders yet, but 
 supposed that it would not be late ; and Martin Vera, in 
 reply, intimated his determination to wait and see the 
 result before he departed. Soon after this I retired to 
 the little cottage which had been appointed as quarters 
 for myself and all my men; and having given what 
 orders I thought necessary, and seen that the horses 
 had been well fed and put under shelter, I threw myself 
 down upon some straw, which Andriot had prepared for 
 
104 ME HAN AT ARMS \ 
 
 me in one corner of the hovel, and in a few minutes was 
 fast asleep. 
 
 I was awake by daylight on the following morning ; 
 and was up, and had made a soldier’s brief toilet, as 
 well as armed myself completely, before five o’clock. 
 Luckily it happened that I was so, for in a few minutes 
 afterwards I was visited by a gay-looking youth, who 
 introduced himself as the Captain Grenissac, and who 
 told me that in an hour we were to mount the breach 
 together. He looked at me somewhat superciliously 
 from head to foot ; and, though I felt that I could have 
 broken him through the middle over my knee, as a boy 
 breaks a stick, his cool scrutiny annoyed and discom- 
 posed me. We talked over what was to be done for 
 some time; and urging me to hasten my movements, 
 he went to take his station at the head of the storming 
 party. I hurried after at all speed, followed by my 
 little band ; and getting out of the hamlet, and passing 
 through the middle of the tents toward the battery which 
 had effected the breach, a fine, a gay, and an interest- 
 ing sight was presented, which remains fixed upon my 
 memory, as much from the beauty of the scene, as from 
 being the first military effort of any consequence in 
 which I took a part. 
 
 The whole army was drawn out in the open space 
 between the camp and the city ; and about five or six 
 hundred yards in advance of the line, was the small 
 battery, which had effected a very insufficient breach in 
 the w r all. It was still firing, as it had been since the 
 break of day: and a light wind blew the wreaths of 
 smoke down into the hollow which ran towards the 
 Charente, enveloping the base of the hill on which 
 Angoul^me stands, while out of the white uncertain 
 mist thus created started forth, clear, the town, with all 
 its manifold towers and spires. The sun was shining 
 brightly as he rose upon the glittering line of our 
 cavalry and infantry, variously armed, and with many a 
 cornet and a pennon amongst them ; while the rich and 
 peaceful-looking slopes and rises, the clear blue sky, 
 the bright sunshine, and the soft murmur of the autum- 
 
105 
 
 OB, HENRI HE CERON6. 
 
 nal air, contrasted strangely and strikingly with the 
 camp behind us, the long line of iron-clad soldiery in the 
 front, the occasional thunder of our own artillery, and 
 the flashes that burst from time to time from the walls 
 of Angouleme. 
 
 Some way in advance of the general line appeared a 
 small body of infantry, with Genissac at their head ; 
 and behind him, a little before the other forces, an 
 entire infantry regiment, supported by a strong force 
 of cavalry. Between that body and the little peloton of 
 Genissac were a group of officers and gentlemen, with 
 one or two led horses, apparently waiting for their 
 riders. As I passed by, my eye rested for a moment 
 upon the well-known D’Antelot ; while another officer, 
 considerably older in appearance, but with a fine open 
 countenance, whom I took to be the far-famed Admiral 
 de Coligny, sat beside him, on a strong horse, receiving 
 from time to time communications from different persons 
 who rode up. D’Andelot’s visor was up, and as I passed 
 he noticed me with an inclination of the head, and then, 
 turning to the Admiral, pointed me out to him. Coligny 
 immediately beckoned me towards him ; and, ordering 
 my men to march on and take the order from Monsieur 
 de Genissac, I advanced to the side of the Admiral’s 
 horse. 
 
 “ I knew your father well, Monsieur de Cerons,” 
 said Coligny; “and my beholding his son here this 
 day, gives me the pleasant expectation of soon seeing 
 him behave as his father w r ould have done on a similar 
 occasion. I grieve that we have not the presence of 
 your cousin, Monsieur de Blancford ; but his faith has 
 been supposed to be wavering for some time. I must 
 not detain you, however ; for here comes the Prince, 
 and the word will be given in a moment.” 
 
 I bowled, and then advanced immediately to the side 
 of Genissac, who I found had drawn up my men with his 
 own very fairly and very skilfully. In order to take 
 advantage of some hollows in the ground, we were to 
 advance six abreast, three of my men and three of his, 
 with the two leaders at the head. As the whole of the 
 
106 
 
 THE MAH AT ABMS ; 
 
 party were composed of about a hundred men, he had 
 filled up the space behind, where my scanty band ended, 
 by his own troops ; and, placing himself close to me, he 
 said, “ Now, Monsieur de Cerons, you and I will keep 
 near together, as I may have something to say to you 
 when we are near the breach. I wish they would send 
 us the word to advance, for this long expectation dulls 
 the men’s spirits.” 
 
 At that moment, however, an officer gave the word 
 to march, while the battery opened a sharp fire upon 
 the breach. In the first instance we had to descend 
 some way, which we did with considerable rapidity, but 
 not so fast as far to outstrip the regiment behind, who, 
 as soon as they were within shot, opened a smart fire of 
 small arms against the enemy. From the bottom of the 
 valley we had now, however, to ascend to the Park ; 
 and the moment we began to do so, one of the hottest 
 fires of musketry I ever saw was poured upon us from 
 the breach and the neighbouring walls. One of Genis- 
 sac’s men went down; and one of mine staggered from 
 a slight w T ound in the shoulder, but regained his footing 
 and kept on with the rest. I was somewhat surprised 
 that we did not advance more rapidly, and said to my 
 companion, “ Let us hasten forward ! Let us hasten 
 forward! The men will soon be out of the fire.” 
 
 Genissac gave no order, and at the same time a shot, 
 passing between him and me, carried away a part of 
 my casque, and went through the head of one of the 
 men behind. 
 
 “ Don’t be too hot ! Don’t be too hot ! ” he said, the 
 minute after, when he had got so near that I could see 
 the features of the men in the breach. “ I am only 
 ordered to make a reconnoissance ; but to retreat im- 
 mediately, if the breach is not practicable.” 
 
 “But I was ordered to storm,” I replied; “ and the 
 breach, though small, is deep, and seems to me quite 
 practicable.” 
 
 “Have with you! Have with you then!” he said, 
 “if you are so eager.” 
 
 But the words we had uttered had been heard by 
 
107 
 
 OB, HEKEI DE CEBONS. 
 
 those behind us ; and, though we had been still ad- 
 vancing, the men began to waver. It was a critical 
 moment ; and, waving my sword over my head, I cried 
 aloud, “To the breach! To the breach ! ” 
 
 My own men took it up, shouting, “ To the breach ! 
 To the breach !” His people followed; and, rushing 
 forward with jealous rivalry of each other, though as 
 we came nearer the shots of the enemy told terribly 
 amongst us, we climbed the height, and rushed up 
 furiously to the foot of the wall. There was an immense 
 deal of broken rubbish, earth, and stones, to be passed, ' 
 which had been cast down by the fire of our battery, and 
 a tremendous discharge of musketry welcomed us at the 
 top ; but still we rushed on, while the regiment which 
 had advanced to support us, now caught the spirit of 
 the assault, and, doubling its pace, crossed the valley 
 and charged up the hill. On we pressed as hard as we 
 could go, with the stones and earth slipping away and 
 rolling under our feet ; all staggering, some falling, and 
 only thankful that the dense smoke of the enemy’s fire 
 rolled into the breach, and prevented them from taking 
 any very certain aim. 
 
 When first we arrived at the foot of the wall, the 
 breach was crowded by arquebusiers ; but they began 
 to fall back as we climbed over the piles of rubbish, 
 and when we were near the top, only five or six men 
 remained, of whom one rushed down several steps to 
 meet me, aiming a pistol at me as he came, and firing 
 within three paces. Striking my cuirass on the left 
 side obliquely, the shot glanced off and entered my arm 
 a little above the elbow ; but it was a mere flesh wound 
 and only inconvenient. A blow of my heavy horse- 
 sword, however, dashed my adversary’s casque down upon 
 his head, broke the fastenings, and brought him on his 
 knee ; another blow, before he could ward it off, struck 
 the helmet from his head, and at the same time inflicted 
 a deep wound upon his forehead ; and as he called out 
 that he would surrender — indeed he had no choice — I 
 passed him back to the hands of Moric Endem, who 
 followed me close, without seeing anything further than 
 
108 
 
 THE MAH AT ABMS $ 
 
 that he was a young man of good mien, G-enissac was 
 now a step or two before me ; but, rushing up, I was by 
 his side in a moment, and in another instant we stood 
 together at the top of the hill. 
 
 The interior of what was called the Park — a large 
 open space, forming a sort of Place d’Armes — was now 
 open before us ; and, to my surprise, I beheld, drawn 
 up on either side, and ready to charge us the moment we 
 descended, a large body of men at arms, with their lances 
 levelled, and supported by a considerable force of pike- 
 men and arquebusiers on foot. 
 
 Our men were rushing up, however, one by one, as 
 fast as they could climb, to our support ; Moric Endem, 
 having passed on his prisoner, was close behind us ; a 
 slight-looking youth, armed only with a close-covering 
 casque and cuirass, was upon my right, struggling up 
 with difficulty over a steep part of the ruin ; and giving 
 him my hand, unfortunately for himself, I drew him up 
 in a moment : Genissac was a little further off on the 
 same side, with four or five of his followers ; and, seeing 
 the infantry regiment coming up, I thought it not at all 
 improbable that w r e might be able to force an entrance, 
 notwithstanding the strength of the enemy in the Park. 
 
 All this was soon thought, and done in a moment; 
 but at the very same instant the regiment behind 
 halted, a small party of horsemen galloped up towards 
 us from our own army at full speed, and the arque- 
 busiers from the Park opened a sudden and tremendous 
 fire upon the breach. Three men amongst us were 
 brought down at once ; Genissac, standing upon a high 
 point of the broken wall, received a shot in his head and 
 fell back, rolling over and over down the heaps of rub- 
 bish, writhing in the agonies of death ; one of his men 
 fell forward severely wounded; and a shot took the 
 poor youth I had just helped up, and entering his right 
 side, laid him prostrate across one of my feet. 
 
 Still my own followers were coming rapidly up ; 
 several of Genissac’ s people were making their way 
 towards the top ; and though it was impossible to face 
 the force in the Park, now that the other regiment had 
 
109 
 
 OB, HENBI EE CEBONS. 
 
 halted, it was quite possible to effect a lodgment on the 
 breach. Turning, therefore, to those who were follow- 
 ing, and to the group of officers, who had now advanced 
 nearly to the foot of the wall, and were shouting up 
 loudly to me, though I could not hear a word they said, 
 from the noise of the small arms, I called to them to roll 
 me up gabions and barrels, for that we could certainly 
 effect a lodgment. 
 
 My words were passed down by those who were fol- 
 lowing ; but D’Andelot, whom I now saw at the head of 
 the officers, shook his clenched fist at me, and shouted 
 to me, as I found, to come down and retreat. The words 
 were passed up to me, and, with much regret I own, I 
 prepared to obey. 
 
 “We must retreat, Moric,” I said. “We are com- 
 manded to retreat !” 
 
 But at that moment I heard a voice, which I thought 
 I had heard somewhere before, proceeding from the 
 casque of the young man who had fallen beside me, and 
 who exclaimed, “ Oh ! do not leave me here ! ” 
 
 It would have been cruel to do so, even had it been 
 more difficult and dangerous to rescue him than it was ; 
 and, therefore, taking him up in my arms, I carried him 
 down to the spot where D’Andelot stood, and to which 
 several horses had been brought by this time for the 
 purpose of removing the wounded. 
 
 “ You seem determined to get yourself killed, Mon- 
 sieur de Cerons,” said D’Andelot. “ We only intended 
 a reconnoisance, and poor Grenissac has suffered for his 
 folly, in changing it into an assault.” 
 
 “ My orders were to storm, sir,” I said ; “ and I have 
 done no more than I was directed to do.” 
 
 “We were wrong! we were wrong, Monsieur de 
 Cerons !” said that great commander. “We wanted to 
 try you ; but Grenissac had full orders how to act, and 
 he should have obeyed them. Now take a horse, put 
 yourself at the head of his men as well as your own ; 
 get them into order, and make the best of your retreat. 
 You are very well sheltered here, but you will find the 
 fire somewhat hot in the valley. Don’t mind using your 
 
110 
 
 THE MAH AT ABMS ; 
 
 legs there, for you have shown sufficiently that it is not 
 bullets you are afraid of.” 
 
 I only paused to tell Moric to place the lad I was 
 carrying on a horse, and take him carefully to the 
 camp, and then obeyed the orders of D’Andelot. The 
 matter was a mere affair of discipline ; the men followed 
 my commands with alacrity ; and choosing the direction 
 which seemed most sheltered from the fire of the garri- 
 son, I led them on without loss, and with but little 
 haste and confusion, till, passing the battery which had 
 effected the breach, I took up the same position with 
 them which we had occupied in the morning, before the 
 assault began. 
 
 I acted altogether as I had learned from the memoirs 
 of various distinguished knights and officers that it was 
 right and proper to do on such occasions ; and the mo- 
 ment I had reached the same spot from which we had 
 started, I made the men wheel round again, and face the 
 city, as if for a new assault. They were all picked 
 soldiers, and they performed the manoeuvre with promp- 
 titude and precision; but in the troubled state into 
 which the whole art of warfare had fallen in that day, 
 this little evolution, which never would have been neg- 
 lected in former times, except in case of a complete 
 defeat, excited the surprise of everybody ; and a loud 
 shout of applause burst from the regiments around. 
 
 At the same time the Prince de Conde, with the Ad- 
 miral and his companions, moved slowly forward to 
 meet D’Andelot, who was now riding up the slope. 
 After conversing with him for a few minutes, they all 
 advanced towards me, and various kind and compli- 
 mentary things were said, of which I only remember 
 now the words of the Prince de Conde. 
 
 “We shall take care, Monsieur de Cerons,” he said, 
 “ how we put you upon dangerous services any more : 
 for your life will henceforth be so much more precious 
 to us than it seems to you, that we must not suffer you 
 to risk it without much need.” 
 
 They then inquired closely what I had seen within 
 the breach; which I explained to them as well as I 
 
in 
 
 OR, HENRI HE CERONS. 
 
 could; expressing my opinion, that by a strong effort 
 the town might have been taken. Their better judg- 
 ment and greater experience, however, showed them 
 that such was not the case ; and orders were imme- 
 diately given for opening a battery in another place, on 
 the heights of St. Ozani. As soon as this was determined, 
 and orders given to that effect, the men were allowed to 
 retire to their quarters, and I hurried down to the little 
 hovel assigned me in the hamlet, to see what had be- 
 come of Moric Endem, my prisoner, and the wounded 
 youth, for whom I felt a considerable degree of anxiety. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 At the door of the hovel I found Moric, with one of 
 the men who had been wounded in the arm, and an old 
 woman, who was bandaging up the injured limb. The 
 first exclamation of my worthy lieutenant was, “You 
 will find them both in there, sir; and a good ransom 
 ought you to have for that smart youth ; he is the Seig- 
 neur de Blaye. The old gentleman is with the other lad, 
 who is badly hurt, and a surgeon too ; but little good 
 will they do him, I fear. He is drilled like a keyhole ; 
 and if there was any wind it would whistle through 
 him.” 
 
 Without questioning him further, though without 
 comprehending one-half of what he meant, I entered 
 the hut, when, to my utter astonishment, I found young 
 Martin V em stretched upon the straw which had served 
 me during the previous night for a bed. His uncle was 
 standing behind him with a most anxious and sorrowful 
 countenance, while a surgeon, with a long pair of for- 
 ceps, was drawing something which proved to be a 
 buiiet, from a wound in his side. The young man 
 bore the operation, which must have been extremely 
 painful, with the utmost fortitude and resolution ; shut* 
 
112 
 
 THE MAH AT ARMS ; 
 
 ting his teeth hard, so as to prevent even a groan from 
 escaping. 
 
 Martin Yern looked at me, as I entered, somewhat 
 reproachfully ; hut at that moment the surgeon, holding 
 up the bullet in his forceps, exclaimed, “ Here it is, here 
 it is ! ” and on my asking some questions concerning the 
 poor youth, he proceeded to pour forth upon me a 
 quantity of barbarous terms, to explain the precise 
 course the ball had taken ; and the parts external and 
 internal which had been wounded. 
 
 I cut him short as soon as possible, thinking I per- 
 ceived through all these technicalities that the surgeon 
 had hopes the youth would get better, and wished to 
 give importance to the cure. 
 
 “ Some better bed,” he said, “ must be provided for 
 him immediately ; ” and he added, that if we would seek 
 for one, he would wait and superintend the movement 
 of the wounded man himself. 
 
 I immediately turned to see what could be done, and 
 was followed by the merchant himself, who, as soon as 
 we were out of the door, shook his head ruefully at me, 
 saying, “ Ah ! Monsieur de Cerons, this was not kind of 
 you, when you knew how much I wished to keep that 
 boy from this warlike folly of his.” 
 
 “My good friend,” I replied, “ you are entirely mis- 
 taken in supposing that I had any share in this matter. 
 On my honour, I did not know who it was that fought 
 so gallantly beside me till I entered the hut this mo- 
 ment. He gave me no intimation of it ; and I did not 
 even know that I had an additional man in the field.” 
 
 “ I never knew anything of it,” cried Moric Endem, 
 who had heard our conversation. “ I never knew any- 
 thing of it till we were just going to march, and then he 
 came to me and besought me, for pity’s sake, to let him 
 go with us. He had bought himself a casque and a 
 cuirass, and I pushed him in anywhere into the ranks, 
 thinking it a devil of a pity that a fine high-spirited boy 
 should be balked, and made a mere merchant of ; to sit 
 stupifying himself over a tall book, or selling silks and 
 satms by the yard, when he is as proper a youth as ever 
 
OH, HENRI DE CERONS. Il3 
 
 was seen to take a lance in his hand, and meet the 
 enemy.’ 1 
 
 Martin Yern shook his head with a melancholy “ What 
 has come of it ?” and added, “Well, Monsieur de Cerons, 
 I am glad, at least, you had no share in it ; for I owe you 
 so much gratitude for different things, that I would 
 rather repay you in any other way than think you had 
 done me an unkindness to make the balance even. What- 
 I am to do now I cannot tell. Business of infinite im- 
 portance, not only to myself, hut to the Prince and the 
 Admiral, calls me immediately to Bordeaux ; and yet I 
 cannot bear to leave this boy, whom his dying father 
 placed under my charge not two months ago, without 
 any one to take care of him or to attend him.” 
 
 “ Leave him to me, my good friend ; leave him to 
 me,” I said. “ I will treat him, depend upon it, as a 
 brother. To move him now is out of the question ; 
 several days must elapse before Augouleme falis, as 
 they have determined upon making another breach, and 
 we have but five cannons in the army — two of which 
 are but bastards. By the time the place is taken, he 
 will be better able to be moved ; and no care shall be 
 wanting on my part, I can assure you. You yourself 
 will be back ere long, and I trust will find him better 
 in all respects.” 
 
 Martin Yern pressed my hand in his ; and, thanking 
 me with the deep, low-spoken words of true gratitude, 
 he suffered it to be as I wished. At my suggestion, we 
 sought for, and were fortunate enough to find, one of 
 those beds which are fitted to horse-litters, in case it 
 should be necessary to move the wounded man to any 
 distance. In it he was carried almost immediately to 
 the house where Martin Yern had taken up his own 
 abode, and which his wealth had ensured should be of 
 a far superior description. There the merchant placed 
 in my hands the large sum of five hundred crowns for 
 his nephew’s expenses, and the fifty which he had pro- 
 mised for my escort. He besought me earnestly to 
 spare nothing which could tend to the youth’s recovery ; 
 to buy horses immediately to carry the litter, in case of 
 
114 
 
 THE MAff AT ABMS ; 
 
 need ; to ensure the constant attendance of a surgeon, 
 and to see him myself as frequently as I could. 
 
 I said and did all that I could to comfort the worthy 
 merchant ; and a few words spoken to him in a low tone 
 by his nephew, ere he departed, telling him that, though 
 I did not know who he was, I had saved his life by bear- 
 ing him away from the breach, seemed to console good 
 Martin Yern greatly, and give him greater confidence to 
 leave the youth in my charge. 
 
 When all this was settled, he bade his nephew adieu, 
 and mounted his horse to depart. He paused a moment 
 to grasp my hand in his, and then, just as he was setting 
 out, said, “ The time will come, Monsieur de Cerons, — 
 the time will come, I am quite sure and confident, when 
 I shall have an opportunity of showing my gratitude for 
 all that you have done for me and mine.” 
 
 As soon as he was gone, I bethought me of my pri- 
 soner, whose situation for the time had quite passed 
 from my mind ; and hastening back to the place where 
 I had left Moric Endem, I found him busily engaged in 
 making preparations for rendering the hovel a more 
 comfortable dwelling. As it now had been arranged, 
 however, that I was to take up my abode in the house 
 which had been hired for the youug merchant, the 
 adorning of what he termed my lodging was no longer 
 necessary; and on inquiring after the prisoner, I found 
 that they had put him in a sort of back shed, where the 
 old woman I had before seen was even then in the act 
 of dressing the wound on his head. 
 
 On entering, I found a sentry at the door, and the 
 prisoner with his hands tied, very indignant at the treat- 
 ment he had received. I was informed, however, that 
 he had twice endeavoured to make his escape, and I 
 therefore thought that few apologies were necessary. 
 In justification of his conduct, he said that he had never 
 surrendered, rescue or no rescue ; and in consequence, 
 before I would suffer his hands to be untied, I made 
 him pronounce these words, something against his will. 
 Although he was undoubtedly brave and high-spirited, I 
 never yet saw a man more full of loud-tongued bravado } 
 
115 
 
 OB, HENtI EE CEEONS. 
 
 and thought that before he had vented his indignation, 
 he would literally have tried to cut my throat in the 
 shed. I listened to all he had to say with much more 
 coolness than he seemed to think respectful, merely re- 
 plying, while I uncovered my arm, in order that the old 
 woman might exercise her skill upon me also, “ Sir, you 
 are a prisoner, and therefore privileged to rail.” 
 
 Before his hands had been untied for five minutes, 
 however, he approached, looked at my arm, and said, 
 “ That’s an awkward wound. How did you come by 
 that, sir?” 
 
 “It was your handiwork, my good friend,” I replied. 
 “ It was well it didn’t go through my body.” 
 
 “ Indeed, indeed!” he cried, rubbing his hands ; and 
 I must say I never saw a person more heartily rejoiced 
 at anything in my life, than he was that his hand had 
 given me the wound under which I was then suffering. 
 
 “ Well,” he added, at length, “ I suppose I must for- 
 give you for tying my hands, after such a wound as that ; 
 and now tell me at what ransom do you intend to put 
 me ?” 
 
 “I know who you are,” I replied, “and all about 
 you ; and I must say you have shown yourself a gallant 
 soldier, though somewhat rash withal. You know of 
 what consequence you are as well as I do, or better, 
 and therefore I shall leave you to name your own ran- 
 som ; so, now, let us see at what sum you value your- 
 self?” 
 
 I was not wrong in my calculation. To say the truth, 
 I should have been very much puzzled at what rate to 
 fix his ranson myself ; but in trusting to his vanity to 
 do it, I knew I could not be very far wrong. He hesi- 
 tated, however, and said, “ If you know who I am, and 
 all about me, you had better fix it yourself.” 
 
 “ I know so far about you,” I replied, “ that you are 
 the Seigneur de Blaye ; and the old and ordinary custom 
 is, that a lord’s ransom is one year’s revenue, besides 
 what his captor may think fit to exact on account of the 
 prisoner’s reputation in arms. You know your revenues 
 better than I do, and your reputation in arms better 
 
116 
 
 THE MAN AT AftMS \ 
 
 than I do, and I, therefore leave it to you to fix it your- 
 self, being sure that so brave a man must be a man of 
 honour.’ * 
 
 “ I see sir,” he said, “ that I have fallen into the 
 hands of a gentleman ; and, therefore, will deal frankly 
 with you. My revenues are four thousand crowns a 
 year ; but since my uncle’s death, I have somewhat hurt 
 my means. I trust you will, therefore, take the four 
 thousand without exacting anything more.” 
 
 So surprised, so astounded, I may say, I was at the 
 very name and idea of receiving such a sum, in conse- 
 quence of my first day’s actual service in arms, that I 
 could not reply for some minutes. I had heard such 
 things occasionally recounted, and that the famous 
 Montluc had gained, or was likely to have gained, some 
 few years before, no less than eighty thousand crowns 
 as the ransom of a young Italian nobleman ; but when 
 it came home to myself, I could hardly believe it, with 
 difficulty concealing my astonishment. He mistook my 
 silence, it would seem, for discontent, and was going to 
 add something in regard to his condition and inability to 
 pay a greater sum, when I stopped him, saying, “It is 
 enough, Monsieur de Elaye ; it is enough. As an 
 honourable man, I do not doubt your word ; and I have 
 heard that it is a common saying of one of the bravest 
 captains on your own side, I mean Monsieur Montluc, 
 that it is not the custom to skin one’s prisoners in the 
 present day. I have your word of honour as a gentle- 
 man ; and you will accordingly remain in the camp 
 and be my guest, until such time as your ranson can 
 arrive !” 
 
 “ Oh ! as soon as the city falls,” he replied, “ I will 
 
 C it you ; and in the meantime thank you for your 
 pitality.” 
 
 “ Then you calculate upon the city failing very soon,” 
 I said, with a laugh. 
 
 He smiled in return, replying, “ It ought to see all 
 you Reformers rot before it surrenders, if the people in 
 it knew what they were about ; but there’s Argenu, and 
 Grrignaud, and Meziere, brave enough men when they 
 
OR, HENRI HE CERONS. 
 
 117 
 
 are in the field, but without the slightest idea of holding 
 a walled place — the old woman who has just dressed 
 your arm would make a better governor of Angouleme. 
 But, however, as soon as you get into Angouleme, you 
 shall have the money. The Jews will give it me on my 
 bond. It’s crammed full of Jews to the very doors ; 
 and that is another reason it will fall. But, however, 1 
 hope this is not the house, the hospitality of which you 
 invite me to partake and he looked round the shed in 
 which we were still standing with some dismay. 
 
 “ Oh, no!” I replied. “This, and the hovel near, 
 formed my only lodging last night ; but I have got 
 better quarters to-day, and if you will come up with 
 me, I w T ill show you where they are.” 
 
 The old lady who fulfilled the office of surgeon to the 
 soldiery and inferior officers, had managed to bind up 
 my wound very skilfully, — pouring in some peculiar 
 compound of her own devising, which healed the wound 
 so rapidly that I can scarcely say I received any further 
 inconvenience from it. After she had done, and had re- 
 ceived her reward, we walked up to my new dwelling, 
 and I assigned to the young lord a room immediately 
 beneath that which I had chosen for myself. 
 
 Having made this arrangement, and given some little 
 regularity to my affairs, I went out to visit the different 
 quarters of the camp, and to see more with my own eyes 
 than I had hitherto been able to see. 
 
 The day passed over without any further effort on our 
 side than the erection and opening of the new battery ; 
 but as I went round every part of the encampment, I 
 twice met the Prince de Conde and D’Andelot, and once 
 the Admiral de Coligny. They noticed me, I saw, 
 though neither of them spoke ; and while their conduct 
 showed me there was no want of activity or vigilance on 
 the part of our leaders, my appearance at different points 
 of the camp was construed by them, I afterwards found, 
 into proofs of my zeal and industry. 
 
 I have mentioned that each of these generals had 
 praised my conduct highly in the morning ; but the 
 most satisfactory proof to myself of having acted well, 
 
118 
 
 THE MAH AT ABMS ; 
 
 was afforded to me that night. On my return, towards 
 supper time, I found, besides one of my men on guard 
 at the door, good Moric Endem standing talking to him 
 while waiting my return. 
 
 “ JSTo want of men now, sir,” he said. “ This morning’s 
 work has got your name up famously. You have no- 
 thing to do but to whistle, and you’ll have all the stray 
 men of the camp. I have had a hundred talking to me 
 about it already, at least ; but of course, I could do but 
 little till I spoke to you. There were five or six rare 
 old hands, however, that I could not let go away; so 
 that we now muster seventeen. How many more would 
 you like engaged ?” 
 
 “ At present,” I replied, “ not more than five-and- 
 twenty or thirty in all, Moric. "We can do a good deal 
 with that number, — more may be difficult to manage ; 
 and though we are well provided for at present, they 
 might in the end be difficult to feed.” 
 
 “ You are quite right, sir, you are quite right,” replied 
 my good lieutenant. “ A small band, but every one a 
 good man, depend upon it, is better than an army with 
 every other man an ass or a sheep ; and sure I am that 
 I can fill up your troop in such a way that there shall 
 not be thirty more desperate, fearless, skilful ragamuffins 
 in the whole place.” 
 
 “Well, do so,” I replied, “as speedily as possible. 
 And now, where is this Monsieur de Blaye ?” 
 
 “ Oh ! you will find him down there, at the house by 
 the river,” replied Moric, with a grin, applying to the 
 house at the same time an epithet which I had never 
 heard before, but which instantly designated it as a place 
 where no man of any refinement of mind or feeling could 
 be found. “ There he has been ever since you went 
 away, almost,” added the old soldier ; “ and I hear from 
 a trooper who served with him two years ago, that he is 
 never satisfied except he is there, or with a dice-box in 
 his hand. If you don’t send Andriot after him, he’ll 
 not be up to supper.” 
 
 “ Andriot is a mere youth,” I replied. “ I wish you 
 would go yourself, Moric,” 
 
119 
 
 OB, HENEI BE CEE0N3. 
 
 “ That I will, that I will,” he said. “ I am no prude 
 about such things ; though I cannot but think that a 
 gentleman with his head broke might do better, or at 
 least wait till the campaign is over.” 
 
 Thus saying he sped away, and soon returned, bringing 
 the Seigneur de Blaye along with him. As I had not 
 the keeping of my prisoner’s morality, his conduct gave 
 me but little concern at the time ; but it became after- 
 wards, I grieve to say, a matter of sad and great import- 
 ance ; and I must add here, that, during the three or 
 four days he remained with me, though brave and good- 
 humoured, as well as vain and light, his life was one 
 continued course of the lowest intemperance and de- 
 bauchery. 
 
 On the following day, I went early to see the battery, 
 and the effect it had produced ; but there was as yet no 
 appearance of its being practicable ; and the Prince de 
 Conde, whom I met near the spot, stopped his horse to 
 speak with me upon the subject, saying, “ Probably, to- 
 morrow, we may be able to do something. Will you 
 be of the storming party again, Monsieur de Cerons ?” 
 
 “ Willingly, my lord,” I answered, “ and hope to be 
 permitted to take the same post.” 
 
 “ No,” replied the prince, “ I will not suffer you to 
 expose yourself too far. Besides, D’Andelot is jealous 
 of you, and will lead the party this time himself. But 
 you shall be one of the number, if you desire it. You 
 can take four men with you, if you please, but no more ; 
 for after yesterday’s exploits, every gentleman in the 
 camp wants to have a share in it.” 
 
 I thanked him for the permission, and retired ; and 
 about eleven on the following morning the attack was 
 determined upon. The army was drawn up in battle 
 array ; the storming party was formed and led by 
 D’Andelot himself ; the batteries were redoubling their 
 fire, and we were even beginning to march, when a 
 white flag was suddenly displayed upon the breach, and 
 some horsemen came forth from the city, with an offer 
 of capitulation. The terms were soon agreed upon ; the 
 soldiers of the garrison were permitted to march out 
 
120 
 
 THE MAN AT ARMS; 
 
 with their swords, the leaders with their baggage, and 
 the town was surrendered immediately. 
 
 A little incident occurred in the marching in of the 
 troops, which struck me greatly, and showed that the 
 good old spirit of our ancient armies was not entirely 
 extinct. There was some dispute, at first, as to what 
 regiment should take possession of the town; but the 
 admiral settled the matter, by declaring that the storm- 
 ing party having been disappointed, should march in 
 first through the breach, with his brother, D’Andelot, 
 at the head, while he led another party round by the 
 gates. This was accordingly effected ; and, as was natu- 
 ral enough under such circumstances, on taking the city 
 we found almost all the houses shut up and barricaded. 
 As we came into the long street, however, which runs 
 down the hill, we saw the troops of the admiral ad- 
 vancing, and a good deal of confusion taking place. 
 We had ourselves preserved the strictest order; but as 
 there were a good many officers and leaders amongst us, 
 D’Andelot permitted us to separate, in order to remedy 
 any evil that might be going on. 
 
 Taking my way down the street to the spot where I 
 had seen some confusion, I found that, in spite of all 
 commands and efforts, some excesses had been com- 
 mitted. A jeweller’s shop had been broken open, and 
 the admiral having been informed thereof, had turned 
 back and ordered that the house should be surrounded, 
 and the men found therein forced to march out one by 
 one. The regiment commanded to perform this service 
 was that of an old soldier, famous for his courage, 
 named the Seigneur de Puyviault ; and as I came up on 
 foot, I heard more of the facts than the admiral himself 
 was aware of. The soldiers in the house, it seems, were 
 Puyviault’ s own men ; and it was very evident, from the 
 dispositions he made, that the worthy commander was 
 inclined to screen them from the punishment which was 
 iustly their due, and which the admiral would certainly 
 have inflicted had he discovered them. The moment 
 they were driven forth, they were swallowed up in the 
 mass of Puyviault’ s men surrounding the door; and 
 
121 
 
 OR, HENRI DE CER0NS. 
 
 Coligny, seeing what nobody could help seeing, rode 
 up in fury, and pushed Puyviault vehemently with his 
 leading staff. The colour came into the commander’s 
 cheek, and one or two of his followers behind exclaimed, 
 “ He has struck you ! he has struck you 1” 
 
 One moment of forgetfulness on the part of Puyviault 
 would have given another striking instance of how frail 
 are the bonds which unite volunteer armies together ; 
 but turning to those behind him, he said, “I endure 
 everything from my leader ; nothing from my enemies : 
 and I this day show you what I expect from you.” 
 
 There was a murmur of applause ran through those 
 around ; and after that little incident the town was 
 quietly occupied by the Protestant troops. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 It is needless for me to pause upon all the movements 
 that subsequently took place. They have met with 
 historians more competent to treat of military details 
 than myself ; nor would my own personal narrative for 
 several weeks, nay, for months, present many matters 
 of interest. Ho sooner had Angouleme capitulated, and 
 order been restored in the town, than Monsieur de Blaye 
 found means to procure easily the money for his ran- 
 som, and paid me the sum of four thousand crowns, 
 which is certainly far more than I had ever possessed 
 in my life. In the arrangements which had been made 
 between myself and Moric Endem, and which he com- 
 municated to the men as we engaged them, the ransom 
 of prisoners, it may be remembered, had been held apart 
 as belonging to the actual captors. Nevertheless, I 
 determined to endeavour, as far as possible, to attach 
 the men to me by liberality, and to show that I could 
 recompense good service, in order that, if necessity 
 required it, I might be the more fully justified in pun- 
 ishing bad conduct. 
 
122 
 
 THE MAH AT ABMS ; 
 
 I accordingly called the men together as soon as I had 
 received the ransom of my prisoner ; and explaining to 
 them what I was about to do, and the reason why, I 
 divided the money into two equal portions, and having 
 reserved one for myself, I divided the other half again 
 into two, whereof I bestowed one upon my good lieu- 
 tenant, Moric Endem, to whom I owed so much, and 
 divided the residue amongst the men who accompanied 
 me to the breach. The others who had chosen to wait 
 till they saw me tried, looked a little foolish and morti- 
 fied upon the occasion, but acknowledged it was all 
 just; and to give them some consolation, I bestowed 
 ten crowns each upon them out of my own stock, only 
 requiring that each two men should provide themselves 
 with a small tent, and each five with a baggage horse, 
 and a boy to ride it. 
 
 After this was done, my next thought was to redeem 
 the dagger which I had left; in the hands of the Jew: but 
 the matter was somewhat difficult to be arranged; for 
 how was I to obtain the weapon without going myself 
 to Bordeaux, or without sending some one in whom I 
 could fully trust ? I thought of Andriot, of whose 
 honesty I felt as certain as of my own ; but then he was 
 by far too illiterate and simple in his nature to deal with 
 so shrewd a personage as the Jew; and the specimen 
 which I had obtained of good Soloman Ahar’s proceed- 
 ing was not very well calculated to increase my confi- 
 dence in his probity. 
 
 Although the weapon might be considered as a mere 
 gewgaw, yet I clung to the thought of regaining it as 
 speedily as possible, with feelings which some people 
 will easily enter into. It seemed as if it were my in- 
 heritance; it was the only thing I possessed of my 
 father’s ; it was the tie between me and past years. I 
 meditated over this matter for some time, without 
 coming to any satisfactory conclusion; and at length 
 remembering that there were many other things to 
 think of, I proceeded to the bedside of young Martin 
 Vern, to prepare him for removal on the following day. 
 
 Since the extraction of the ball 3 he had been daily 
 
123 
 
 OB, HENBI DE CEBONS. 
 
 recovering strength. The great quantity of blood he 
 had lost had, in all probability, been the cause that no 
 great fever had ensued ; and he had been able to lie and 
 talk to me at various times during the preceding day 
 without any apparent inconvenience. I now found him 
 still better ; and he heard that the siege of Angouleme 
 was over, and that we were preparing to make a retro- 
 grade movement, to attack the small town of Pons, with 
 apparent pleasure. He expressed himself perfectly 
 willing and able to be moved ; but only desired to find 
 a messenger by whom he could send word of his state 
 to his uncle, and to tell him in what direction we were 
 likely to proceed. 
 
 I instantly caught at the opportunity of communi- 
 cating with the Jew through Martin Vern; and after 
 consulting with the young man upon the subject, and 
 telling him the whole facts, the matter was very easily 
 arranged. Andriot was sent back to Bordeaux with a 
 mere verbal message concerning the movements of the 
 army, but with a letter from me to the merchant, telling 
 him of his nephew’s improved health, and of my own 
 wishes with regard to the Jew, and enclosing both the 
 receipt which the worthy Solomon had given me, and 
 the requisite sum for redeeming the dagger. 
 
 Andriot, by this time, had seen nearly enough of 
 military service, and was not at all sorry to lay aside 
 the cuirass and helmet. He did not even affect to 
 conceal that such was the case, but at the same time 
 begged that I would let him return and join me in the 
 capacity of a servant, as before. 
 
 Early on the following morning we began our march 
 for Pons ; and that city, which was defended also by a 
 citadel, was besieged in form, the garrison expressing 
 its determination to hold out to the last extremity. 
 They kept their word : the place was taken by assault ; 
 and, for the first time, I beheld the most awful scene that 
 war, always terrible, can display. Death and destruction, 
 and cold-blooded massacre, surrounded me on every side ; 
 but terrible as it all was I had the satisfaction of contri- 
 buting, in some degree, to the cessation of the evil. One 
 
124 
 
 THE MAH AT AEMS ; 
 
 or two of the other officers joined with me ; and we en% 
 deavoured, as far as possible, to shelter even the officers 
 and soldiers that surrendered. 
 
 This attempt was nearly vain, however ; but it pre- 
 pared the way for more successful efforts when the 
 pillage of houses commenced. To prevent plunder was 
 impossible, I found ; but to stop massacre was less 
 difficult, and most of my soldiers were beginning to 
 listen to the repeated commands that they received, and 
 to form into some order, when, suddenly, a girl rushed 
 from one of the houses, pursued by a trooper whom I 
 had engaged at Barbezieux, and who had shown himself 
 somewhat slack in the combat, and eager in the 
 pillage. 
 
 Both the girl and the man heard clearly the orders I 
 was in the very act of repeating, to abstain from outrage ; 
 and, rushing forward, she clung to my knees. The man 
 darted on after her, swearing that he would have his 
 lawful prey ; that the town was taken by assault : and 
 nobody should stop him. There was a large body of 
 soldiers coming up at the moment, under Monsieur de 
 Boucard ; and I knew that, at that moment, example was 
 everything. The man had the insolence to seize the 
 woman by the shoulder at my very feet ; but my heavy 
 double-edged sword was naked in my hand at the mo- 
 ment ; and his foul fingers had scarcely touched her, 
 when his spirit went to its dark account. 
 
 “Rightly done, rightly done, Monsieur de Cerons,” 
 cried Boucard, turning partly towards his men, and 
 partly towards me. “ The same punishment for any 
 one who commits such excesses.’ * 
 
 The greater part of the town’s people were saved, 
 but four hundred of the soldiery were massacred in cold 
 blood ; and I grieve to say that four hundred more were 
 afterward slain when the citadel was taken. There is 
 every reason to believe that the castle had capitulated ; 
 but, by some mistake, the assailants got in at once, and 
 put to death every soul they met with. I was not in 
 the town at the moment that this latter act took place, 
 having been ordered to follow the Admiral de Coligny 
 
125 
 
 or, Henri de cerons. 
 
 with all speed towards Chauvigny, whither he had 
 inarched some days before, in pursuit of the Duke of 
 Montpensier. I was ordered to bear him tidings of the 
 fall of Pons ; and a company of foot soldiers was added 
 to my band, so that we might afford at once a small 
 reinforcement to his division of the army, and give him 
 notice that those he had left behind would soon be pre- 
 pared to support him. 
 
 Various movements on the part of both the Catholic 
 and Protestant armies followed during the greater part 
 of the winter, and the early spring of the ensuing year. 
 The Duke of Montpensier collected his forces in the 
 neighbourhood of Chatellerault ; and tidings spread 
 abroad that the Duke of Anjou, the king’s brother, was 
 coming down with a great force, to put himself at the 
 head of the Catholic armies. Various disasters also 
 befel different detachments of Protestant soldiers making 
 their way up from different parts of the country, to 
 join the main body under the Admiral and the Prince 
 de Conde. The Protestant leaders, however, did not 
 suffer themselves to be daunted, and still acted upon the 
 offensive, harassing the enemy in continual skirmishes, 
 and prepared even to risk the event of a general battle. 
 
 In all these proceedings I had my share. I knew 
 that all and every thing depended upon my own exertions 
 and my own success; and, daily becoming more and 
 more habituated to the life I led, I suffered no oppor- 
 tunity to pass of attacking any detached body of the 
 enemy ; and when I found myself not strong enough to 
 attempt any of the small fortified towns or castles, I 
 soon found plenty of leaders who were willing to aid me 
 for a share of the plunder which was likely to be taken. 
 Thus I was seldom out of the saddle ; scarcely two days 
 at any time without crossing my sword with an enemy ; 
 and never suffering myself by any ambition to be led 
 into the great mistake of increasing the numbers of my 
 band, it became rather a privilege than otherwise to 
 obtain admission into it. 
 
 Such exertions were not without their reward; for, 
 though in the course of the campaign I did not meet 
 
126 I’M) MAN A$ ABMS ; 
 
 ■with any other such rich prize as Monsieur de Blaye 
 had proved, yet many a prisoner of less importance was 
 taken, — several by my own hand; while a large quantity 
 of booty was obtained, — especially after the gay and 
 luxurious soldiery of the Duke of Anjou began to 
 arrive in the country. 
 
 On one occasion, we took an immense quantity of 
 baggage, belonging to two or three noblemen of the 
 court, in a village which they had fortified for their own 
 defence ; so that the amount of fifteen thousand crowns, 
 in money alone, was divided between our troop and a 
 band of foot who had joined us in the enterprise. ¥e 
 had been told that the Duke of Joyeuse was in the 
 village himself ; but, if he was so, he made his escape 
 with the other nobles, before we forced our way in. 
 Had I been able to capture him, indeed, I might have 
 thought that I well deserved the name which I had, by 
 this time acquired in the army, of the “ Fortunate Mon- 
 sieur de Cerons.” I was, indeed, in many respects 
 extremely fortunate ; for I had escaped without any 
 wounds that deserved the name, except the pistol-shot 
 in the arm, which I received at Angouleme ; and in the 
 month of February, I had, in my own private store, an 
 accumulation of nearly six thousand crowns. 
 
 Not twelve months before, I should have considered 
 that fortune as quite sufficient for all my wants and 
 wishes through life; but my feelings had changed — I 
 desired more, far more. What was it that was at my 
 heart ? Was it avarice ? Oh, no! What was it then ? 
 I cannot tell. There was a hope, and an expectation, 
 and a looking forward into the future, that made me 
 greedy without greediness, and aspiring without am- 
 bition. 
 
 I must now return to speak, for a moment, of one 
 whom I have not noticed for some time. The progress 
 of young Martin Yern was slow but steady ; and at the 
 end of about a month or six weeks, he was enabled to 
 sit up and walk about the camp. In a week more he 
 could ride out with me on horseback, when, with no 
 particular enterprise in view, I rode out to reconnoitre 
 
12 ? 
 
 OB, HENBI BE CEBONS. 
 
 the enemy, or examine the country around. Prom his 
 uncle he had received no intelligence up to the time of 
 which I have just been speaking, about which period 
 we were marching upon Saumur, and completely master 
 of the country between the Loire and the Charente. 
 But a terrible storm was gathering to the east, where 
 the army of the Duke of Anjou was daily increasing in 
 strength, and moving rapidly towards us. A degree of 
 ferocity, too, was beginning to animate both parties. 
 The Count de Lude attacked the town of Mirabeau; 
 received its surrender upon capitulation, and yet basely 
 ordered the greater part of the garrison to be put to the 
 sword, in cold blood. The wrath and indignation of the 
 Protestants now exceeded all bounds, — especially as La 
 Borde and his brother, who were amongst the first 
 victims at Mirabeau, were universally loved and admired 
 in the army. ~No one felt their death more bitterly 
 than the Admiral de Coligny ; and, swearing by all he 
 held sacred that he would aveuge them, he refused all 
 terms of capitulation to the town of St. Plorent, which 
 he was then besieging, but gave the garrison notice to 
 defend themselves to the last, as, beyond all doubt, he 
 would put every man to the sword. 
 
 I was myself, at the time, marching forward with a 
 large body of troops towards Loudun; but I heard, 
 shortly afterwards, that the Admiral had, too terribly, 
 kept his word. We came in presence of the enemy in 
 the neighbourhood of Loudun ; and, on the assembling 
 of the whole Protestant force, it was found that we 
 were not much inferior in number to our antagonists. 
 But the weather had now become extremely severe ; and 
 the Duke of Anjou, not judging it prudent to risk a 
 general battle at that moment, retired, leaving us to take 
 a little repose in winter quarters. 
 
 Some days before he retreated, however, I was re- 
 joined by the good youth, Andriot, who bore a letter 
 from good Martin Yern, announcing that he would 
 speedily visit us in our quarters. Andriot himself had 
 much to tell ; for he had been at the Chateau de Blanc- 
 ford, and had borne tidings of all my proceedings, as 
 
128 
 
 THE MAH AT ARMS $ 
 
 far as he knew them, to those in whom he believed I was 
 interested as my ancient home. He repeated to me all 
 the kind things that the boys had said; all the affec- 
 tionate words of old La Tour; and he told me how 
 Louise’s eyes had sparkled when she saw him ; how she 
 had made him repeat over and over again everything 
 that related to me ; and how she had wept to hear of my 
 good success, which the youth declared he could not 
 understand at all, — though I understood it right well. 
 He had taken care, he said, as far as possible, to keep 
 out of the way of the baron; but he was caught the 
 second day of his visit, and made his escape as fast as 
 he could, to avoid being beaten out with stirrup-leathers, 
 with which my worthy cousin threatened him highly. 
 
 The letter of Martin Yern gave but little intelligence 
 of anything but his own approach ; and we looked for 
 his arrival, anxiously, for three or four days ; at the end 
 of which time, as I was sitting with his nephew, in my 
 quarters, at the little village of Trois-moutiers, the good 
 merchant made his appearance, accompanied by a much 
 more imposing train of followers than he had displayed 
 when I last saw him. His first attention was, of course, 
 given to his nephew ; but, after embraces and congratu- 
 lations, he turned to me, on my affairs, and told me that 
 he had succeeded in one part of his mission, but had been 
 unsuccessful in another. The dagger, he said, he had 
 not been able to redeem, having found that my friend, 
 Monsieur Stuart, had already redeemed it, when he 
 heard how fortunate I had been in the army, with the 
 purpose of carrying it to me direct. This intelligence 
 mortified me a good deal ; but the worthy merchant had 
 consolation for me. 
 
 “ I have seen your fair cousin,” he said, “ and a 
 beautiful creature she is. Not knowing whether there 
 was anything private in your letter or not, I delivered 
 it to her as she passed through the room where the 
 baron kept me waiting ; and the tidings that you gave 
 her must have moved her much; for she first turned 
 so pale that I thought she would have fainted, and then 
 grew red again, and pressed your letter to her lips, and 
 
129 
 
 OB, HEFEI BE CERONS. 
 
 thanked me a thousand times for bearing it. As she 
 ran away immediately to read it, and I did not see her 
 when I went back again to the chateau, I feared that I 
 should have no answer to convey to you ; but the ser- 
 vant who brought me, two days after, some bonds for 
 the money that your cousin wanted, gave me also this 
 letter for you, and I think it is in a woman’s writing.” 
 
 The moment I saw it, I knew Louise’s writing ; and, 
 approaching the sconce, I tore it open, and read — Oh, 
 how my heart beat ! oh, how nearly were my eyes over- 
 flowing as I read the sweet, the dear, the tender, the af- 
 fectionate words with which she greeted me ! 
 
 “Dearest, dearest Henri!” it began, “how can I 
 ever thank you for the comfort, for the consolation, for 
 the joy that your letter has given me !— the only con- 
 solation, the only joy that I have had since you left 
 me ! I will not upbraid you for quitting me without 
 bidding me adieu ; for, to fly was all that you could do, 
 and to go without farewell saved me, perhaps, a long 
 and bitter pang, even though it denied me a sad and 
 painful pleasure. The news of your success, from your 
 own hand, is, indeed, gratifying ; but further accounts of 
 that success have now reached me, and I trust in Heaven 
 that they may be true. 
 
 “ O Henri ! can I doubt anything that is told me of 
 you, which represents you as braver, and nobler, and 
 more generous than any one else ? Perhaps it is all 
 very foolish to think in this way ; but you have been 
 my companion from my childhood, — the kindest, the 
 dearest, the best of brothers to me! — the one that I 
 have loved the most on all the earth, since my poor 
 mother’s death. How, then, can I think sufficiently of 
 you ? — how can I think at all, with hope and comfort, of 
 any one else but you ? My two poor brothers, Charles 
 and Albert, are suffering under the same dark and cheer- 
 less fate as myself ; and when we steal up to sit together 
 in the room that once was yours, we talk of you and of 
 all your kindness, and of the days that are gone by for 
 ever ; and we mingle our tears together, when we think 
 
 9 
 
130 
 
 THE MAN AT ARMS ; 
 
 that we may never see him again whom we all loved so 
 dearly. They, indeed, vow that, when they are able, 
 they will fly to join you at the army, and fight under 
 your sword. But what is to become of me ? 
 
 “ But I will not make you sad, Henri, with my sadness ; 
 nor will I dwell upon all that is terrible to me, and 
 painful in this house at this moment. From the little 
 that you saw you may conceive the rest ; and nothing 
 is too terrible to be true. Perhaps, if you were to write 
 to my father, it might do good ; for, though he is very 
 much exasperated against you, and will not even hear 
 your name mentioned from any of us, yet when I have 
 heard other people praise you, and mention some high 
 deed you have done, my father’s eyes have looked bright, 
 and I have thought he seemed somewhat proud that you 
 should be his near relation. Of what are his plans or 
 his purposes I can give you no account. He is evidently 
 wretched here ; and I have heard some words spoken 
 in regard to a journey to the capital, if a truce or peace 
 were to take place, or if a safeguard could be obtained 
 from the Court. When I see him so unhappy, I would 
 fain console him, but he will not be consoled ; and the 
 moment I attempt to do it, the expression of his face 
 changes from melancholy to anger. 
 
 “You tell me to think of you, and that you think of 
 me constantly. O dear Henri! if you could see my 
 thoughts, you could never fancy that you were forgotten 
 even for a moment by 
 
 “Louise le Blanceord.” 
 
 The worthy merchant had not been long with us 
 before he was summoned to the presence of the Prince 
 de Conde, to whom his arrival had been notified ; and I 
 was not allowed more than a few minutes alone to dream 
 over the sweet and tender letter of Louise, before an 
 officer from the admiral warned me to have everything 
 prepared to march at daybreak on the following morn- 
 ing, for the purpose of attacking the Catholic army in 
 its retreat. 
 
 The admiral himself led the avant garde, while the 
 
OB, HEFEI BE CEBOFS. 
 
 131 
 
 Prince de Conde followed at the head of the rest of the 
 forces, and I with my own troop, and another small troop 
 which was placed under my command for the purpose, 
 was ordered to manoeuvre on the Prince’s right, for the 
 purpose of deceiving the enemy into the belief that we 
 were marching in three divisions. The task was allotted 
 to me, because it was well known that I had reconnoitred 
 the whole country on that side, during the three or four 
 preceding days. 
 
 The issue of the attempt would have been more fortu- 
 nate, however, had they attached me to the admiral’s 
 division; for we were at that time in a part of the 
 country filled with Catholics ; and I have not the 
 slightest doubt that both the generals were purposely 
 deceived by their guides. The admiral we saw nothing 
 of for a long time after his departure ; and the Prince de 
 Conde, beginning his march about half an hour before 
 daybreak, was led straight on to the enemy’s camp, 
 instead of approaching it on the north, as he had in- 
 tended. 
 
 About eight o’clock in the morning, both he and I 
 perceived the camp of the Duke of Anjou, strongly en- 
 trenched and flanked by a stream, but not the slightest 
 appearance of the admiral on any side ; and from the 
 whole aspect of the scene we derived the strongest 
 proof that Coligny had not even approached the enemy’s 
 camp. Notwithstanding our great inferiority of num- 
 bers, however, the prince determined to commence the 
 attack, seeing clearly that the admiral had been misled, 
 and hoping that the sound of the cannon would bring 
 him up to the field of battle. The order was then given 
 for the skirmishers to advance ; and, according to the 
 directions I had received, I made the greatest possible 
 display of my forces on the right, occupying the atten- 
 tion, and diverting the efforts, of a part of the Duke of 
 Anjou’s army. 
 
 The troops that the Prince de Conde had thrown for- 
 ward were met by the cavalry of Souline, Monsalez, and 
 La Yallette, and driven back for some way at the point 
 
 of the sword; but the famous Count de Montgomery^ 
 
132 
 
 THE MAN AT AEMS ; 
 
 and several other distinguished officers, rallied them, and 
 the cannon brought forward upon the height opened a 
 sharp fire upon the duke’s encampment. Each party 
 was animated by the same courage and spirit ; the troops 
 on both sides were fighting under the eyes of their most 
 celebrated leaders ; and the advantages and disadvantages 
 of the day remained so completely balanced, that if the 
 admiral had come up in time, the camp of the duke must 
 have been forced, and his army, in all probability, anni- 
 hilated. 
 
 In the meantime, Martigue, at the head of three 
 cornets of horse, had come out to reconnoitre my 
 strength; but it luckily so happened that the smail 
 body of men which had been placed under my com- 
 mand, as an addition to my own troop, consisted prin- 
 cipally of horse arquebusiers, and I contrived, by thinly 
 lining the hedges with these soldiers dismounted while 
 I filled up the gaps with my cavalry, to make my force 
 appear much larger than it really was. Martigue, who 
 was an old and experienced soldier, at first seemed to 
 entertain great suspicions of what was really the case, 
 and advanced up the hill with a resolute face, as if he 
 was determined to dislodge me. 
 
 Although I had no chance of contending with him, I 
 determined not to give way till I was forced ; and suf- 
 fering him calmly to come completely within shot, I 
 ordered the arquebusiers to fire, and then spring upon 
 their horses. This was done through the hedges with 
 considerable effect ; several of the shots telling in the 
 midst of Martigue’s own troop, and producing great 
 confusion, while what seemed to them a body of fresh 
 cavalry appeared behind the hedges, and decided their 
 retreat. The shortness of the daylight at that period of 
 the year favoured not a little the Duke of Anjou ; for, 
 on the arrival of the admiral, who had been led several 
 miles out of his way, the day was found to be too near 
 the close for any further advantage to be gained. 
 
 Not a few difficulties and dangers, however, presented 
 themselves to the Protestant army, when it contem- 
 plated a retreat; and the prince determined to stop 
 
133 
 
 OB, HENBI DE CEEOtfS. 
 
 upon the ground he occupied. Just as it was turning 
 dark, this resolution was notified to me by an officer, 
 who brought me also high praises from the prince, not 
 for having fought well, but for having avoided fighting. 
 His orders now were to retreat a little from the ground 
 I had taken up, and to do my best to cover his right 
 flank, — sending him instant notice of attack, and making 
 what head against the enemy I could, in order to give 
 him time for preparation. He would have sent me more 
 men, he said, but the position that both he and the 
 admiral occupied was so hazardous, he could not spare 
 any. 
 
 My retreat was easily effected ; but as I came down 
 the hill, I was somewhat alarmed and surprised by 
 seeing a large body of men moving up in the dusk, 
 across one of the wide open plains of that part of the 
 country. In the dim twilight, I could not distinguish 
 anything further than that there must be two or three 
 thousand men, with what seemed to be artillery ; and 
 I was upon the eve of sending off intelligence of the 
 fact to the Prince de Cond6, when the sound of some 
 bells, such as they hang round the necks of the draft 
 oxen, caught my ear, and made me comprehend at once 
 what sort of an apparition this was. It proved that a 
 rascally guide who had accompanied the attendants, 
 camp followers, and others bringing up our baggage, had 
 misled this important body also, and was guiding it direct 
 into the midst of the Duke of Anjou’s men. 
 
 An immense booty it certainly would have afforded to 
 the Catholics, had I not fortunately met the mass of 
 rabble, horse-boys, sutlers, bad men, bad women, and 
 baggage-waggons, that was trooping on into the hands 
 of the enemy. Approaching cautiously, that I might 
 be quite sure I was right, I called out as soon as I had 
 ascertained the fact, and commanded this great pro- 
 cession to halt. At the very first word, the guide, it 
 seems, would have fled ; but the leader of the party, who 
 was a man of some execution, and an old soldier, had 
 entertained suspicions tor some time that all was not 
 
134 
 
 THE MAN AT ARMS; 
 
 right, and on the man’s attempt to spur away, shot him 
 through the head. 
 
 As soon as some explanations had taken place be- 
 tween myself and the rest, a scheme struck me, which I 
 instantly proceeded to put in practice. All the men were 
 very willing to put themselves under my command ; and, 
 returning ^p the hill till I came within sight of the lights 
 in the enemy’s camp, I formed an encampment there, 
 defending it as well as I could with carts and waggons. 
 I then collected together all the most likely varlets that 
 I could find, put my own men in command over them, 
 and arming them to the best of my power, prepared to 
 defend that post in case of need, making sure that, for 
 an hour or two at least, I could completely cover the 
 right of the Prince de Conde. I despatched a messenger 
 to him, however, to tell him what had occurred, and to 
 say that if he thought fit, when he and the admiral fired 
 their cannon at nine o’clock, as was customary, I would 
 do the same, as there was an old dismounted culverine 
 in one of the baggage-waggons, which would the more 
 completely serve to impose upon the enemy. 
 
 On his return, the messenger told me the prince 
 laughed heartily ; and, entering into the spirit of the 
 thing at once, bade me follow out my plan according to 
 my own proposal. It took some time, indeed, to get 
 out the culverine, to place it in such a position that it 
 could be fired without danger, and to draw out a nail 
 which had been driven into the touchhole. This was 
 all accomplished, however, before the time appointed ; 
 and no sooner was the gun fired from the quarters of 
 the Prince de Conde, than the admiral on one hill, and 
 I on the other, shot off our ordnance, doubtless much to 
 the surprise, and somewhat to the consternation, of the 
 camp below. 
 
 Indeed, it formed a scene altogether not a little 
 striking and beautiful ; and somewhat imposing and 
 majestic it must have appeared to the enemy, who could 
 see it all at once. I had gone forth to fire the culve- 
 line myself, fancying that what between its antiquity 
 
135 
 
 OB, HEKRI DE CER0KS. 
 
 and the quantity of powder with which it had been 
 crammed in order to make the report the louder, it 
 might do what it did not, and burst under the opera- 
 tion ; and as I gazed over the range of the camp — with 
 the immense numbers of fires to keep the people warm, 
 which had been lighted all along the lines, blazing 
 brightly over a great extent of the opposite hill, and 
 sweeping quite down across the mouth of the valley 
 where the Prince de Conde’s division remained till the 
 illumination was taken up again by my own little en- 
 campment on those heights — I myself experienced feel- 
 ings not a little akin to awe. There, too, at about the 
 distance of three quarters of a mile, were all the fires 
 and torches in the camp of the Duke of Anjou ; while 
 between that globe of light and the semicircle of fire 
 that surrounded it, remained a dark black ring, on 
 which the struggle of the morning had been carried on, 
 and in the expanse of which nothing was now to be 
 seen but a single lantern, or a flambeau wandering 
 here and there, and seeking for the wounded or the 
 dead. 
 
 As I stood and gazed over the scene, the murmur of 
 the merriment that was kept up by the varlets and 
 people of the little encampment behind me, was borne 
 away by the gale which blew strong from the north- 
 east ; and a few minutes after the guns had been fired, 
 wafted upon the wings of the wind, from the camp of 
 the admiral, came suddenly one of the Protestant 
 psalms, sung by several thousands of voices at once, 
 and sweeping mournfully but sweetly through the dark 
 and solemn night. If I joined not in the melody, I 
 joined at least in the prayer that it conveyed on high ; 
 and I was listening still with no small delight, when 
 the youth Andriot plucked me by the sleeve, and told 
 me there was somebody who wished to speak with me in 
 the encampment. 
 
 There was a meaning look in the boy’s face, — a mix- 
 ture of joy and archness, which I did not at all under- 
 stand; but I followed without further question to a 
 tent which had been prepared for me, and towards 
 
136 
 
 THE MATT AT ARMS 
 
 which he now led the way. There were lights within, 
 and a good number of people standing round it ; and 
 in drawing back the flap of the tent, I saw a table laid 
 out with a very splendid supper, which, as I afterwards 
 found, had been prepared for the Prince de Conde, who, 
 probably, that night went without. 
 
 But that which surprised me much more (for I was 
 well aware that the whole provisions of the army were 
 with my part of the encampment) was to see a respect- 
 able-looking elderly lady with her back towards me, 
 and an old man with white hair bending down to point 
 out to her something in a book upon the table. The 
 little noise I made in entering did not disturb them ; 
 but my first step in the tent caused the old man to 
 raise his head, and, to my inexpressible astonishment, 
 I beheld good Monsieur La Tour, while the old lady, 
 turning round, displayed to my sight the well-known 
 features of her who had been the faithful attendant 
 of the former Baroness de Blancford, and since the 
 attached, though humble, friend of her daughter. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 It was evident from the manner in which La Tour 
 and the old lady, whom we called Dame Marguelette, 
 received me, that they had been already acquainted 
 with the fact of my being there ; and, therefore, there 
 was no degree of astonishment whatever in their coun- 
 tenances, though much joy. I thought they would 
 have devoured me ; but when the first expressions of 
 gladness and satisfaction were over, I remarked a great 
 change in the countenance of the good old pastor. The 
 few months that I had been absent seemed to have 
 worn and broken him more than several years had 
 done at a preceding period ; and there were also lines 
 of much care and thought about his brow and eyes, 
 and a melancholy expression round his mouth, which 
 
187 
 
 OB, HENBI BE CEBONS. 
 
 was very painful to me to behold. Nor was my good old 
 friend Dame Marguelette as well-looking or as hale as 
 when I left her ; but they, on the other hand, could 
 hardly find words to express how much improved I 
 appeared to them in personal appearance since I had 
 quitted the chateau. 
 
 After a few minutes given to mutual gratulations, 
 my next questions, of course, were, where was the baron, 
 and what brought them there ? 
 
 “Alas! my son,” replied La Tour, “where the 
 baron is I cannot well tell you ; but I much fear that 
 he is in the hands of the enemy. I trust it is not with 
 his own consent ; but I fully believe with the consent 
 and by the arrangement of the woman whom he has 
 so madly made hi3 wife. But I have a long story to 
 tell you, Henri, which will explain the whole; and I 
 had better tell it you at once. Alas ! you little know 
 what a change has taken place since you were at Blanc- 
 ford. 
 
 He then went on to tell me all that had occurred, 
 drawing a sad picture of a wretched and miserable 
 family. The baroness he depicted as harsh, haughty, 
 and unprincipled, — capricious to such a degree that 
 there was no calculating upon any determination for 
 a whole day, and only chequering the most idle and 
 licentious levity with occasional fits of violent passion, 
 or long hours of gloomy sullenness. The baron, on 
 his part, evidently both contemned and despised her ; 
 and yet, as we so frequently see, the woman who had 
 acquired a tie upon him by his passions and his vices, 
 ruled him like a slave by his weaknesses, even after his 
 passions had been sated. The conduct of both to the 
 children of the late baroness was anything, La Tour 
 said, but what it should be ; though, towards Louise, the 
 old man said, her father displayed strong affection, and 
 sought her society when he seemed to fly from that of 
 any one else. As to the religion of the baroness, the 
 Protestant minister declared his solemn belief that she 
 had none ; but if she had a leaning either way, it was 
 towards Catholicism. He feared very much, too, he 
 
138 
 
 THE MAN AT AEMS ; 
 
 added, he feared very much that the baron himself was 
 wavering in his faith. “ And that fear,” said he, “ has 
 induced me to cast every other consideration behind me, 
 and to remain with the poor children, still to guard their 
 minds from perversion as far as possible ! ” 
 
 The time since my departure had thus passed, he 
 said, in the most comfortless state of discontent on all 
 parties, until at length the baron had declared, that if 
 he could not obtain letters of protection to reside unmo- 
 lested in Paris with his whole household, he Avould take 
 arms and join the Protestant forces. 
 
 It was the policy of the Court of Prance at that time, 
 by every sort of bribe, by every promise of immunity 
 and inducement that could be held out, to prevent the 
 lukewarm Protestants from joining the more zealous 
 ones in arms. The words of the baron was speedily 
 noised abroad ; and with no greater space of time than 
 was necessary for a courier to travel post-haste from 
 Bordeaux to Paris, and from Paris to Bordeaux, a safe- 
 conduct for the baron and every one whose name he 
 chose to insert in it, arrived at the chateau de Biancford, 
 with the sole condition annexed, that he should present 
 himself at the Court as speedily as possible, where 
 every sort of honour and distinction, it was said, awaited 
 him. 
 
 “ His resolution was taken in a moment,” continued 
 La Tour ; “ and he proposed to me, ungraciously enough, 
 indeed, that my name should be put in the list. Por 
 the children’s sake, and especially for the sake of dear 
 Louise, I suffered it to be done : and we advanced by slow 
 journeys altogether, till yesterday morning, when, the 
 baroness declaring that, by pushing forward to Chatelle- 
 rault, and thence to Laselle, they would put the Yienne 
 and the Creux between them and the contending armies, 
 and thus pass on to Paris without interruption, all the 
 heavy baggage, and several of the servants and retainers, 
 together with the old men and women of the party, such 
 as myself and Dame Marguelette, were directed to fol- 
 low more slowly. But I yesterday heard the baroness 
 speaking with one of the guides who had been hired to 
 
189 
 
 OB, HENRI HE CERONS. 
 
 conduct them, not long before they went, in such a 
 manner as to convince me that she, at least, would not 
 be ill-pleased to fall into the hands of the Catholic army. 
 The baron and the rest went on ; and though they pro- 
 mised to send back a messenger to tell us when they had 
 safely passed the Vienne, none has ever come near us ; 
 and this morning we fell in with the baggage of our own 
 army, and came on with it, thinking that we should be 
 in greater security. 
 
 “ But where is Louise ? ” I cried, immediately. “ Have 
 they taken her on with them ?” 
 
 “Alas! yes, my son,” replied the pastor. “All the 
 younger people have gone on ; and I do not believe that 
 the baroness will at all grieve that they should be sepa- 
 rated from those who have hitherto had the charge and 
 direction of their youth.” 
 
 These tidings made me, I acknowledge, very uneasy ; 
 and I meditated for some time without ary reply, re- 
 volving in my mind a plan for gaining more certain in- 
 formation regarding my relations. I reflected that if 
 they had taken the road towards Chatellerault at all, and 
 been made prisoners, they must have fallen in with some 
 of the troops of the Duke of Anjou’s left wing, proba- 
 bly under La Vallette, and I therefore resolved, if pos- 
 sible, the next morning, to make an excursion on my 
 own right, and attempt to carry off some prisoners, who 
 might give me information. 
 
 In the meanwhile, I found that the baron’s baggage, 
 and all his old servants, were in the immediate neigh- 
 bourhood of the spot where they had erected my tent ; 
 and I took care that everything should be done to make 
 the people comfortable. 
 
 I was somewhat uneasy, however, at not seeing good 
 Martin Vern and his nephew, who, I knew, must have 
 remained with the baggage when the Prince de Conde 
 advanced. I accordingly sent out Andriot, and one or 
 two others, to seek for them, which was somewhat of a 
 difficult task ; as the waggons, and carts, and horses, 
 and tents that formed my encampment were spread over 
 a very large space of ground. They were found at length, 
 
140 
 
 THE MAH AT AEMS ; 
 
 however, together with the Prince de Conde’s Intendant, 
 wandering about at the extreme end of the encampment, 
 not choosing to trust themselves without a guide in the 
 wide chaos of all sorts of rascals and lumber that it 
 contained. Good Martin Yern seemed not a little dis- 
 contented with his expedition, and declared that, as soon 
 as he had seen the Prince de Conde on the following 
 morning, and had settled with him the business that 
 brought him thither, he and his nephew would make the 
 best of their way to Paris. 
 
 I now bethought me, that if, by the mistake or ras- 
 cality of the guide, the baggage of the Protestants had 
 fallen into the hands of the enemy, my whole little fortune 
 would have been also swept away, and that I should 
 have been left nearly in the same condition as that in 
 which I had joined the army. How to remedy this, and 
 to put my treasure beyond the chances of war, I did not 
 know; but to consult Martin Yern seemed the surest 
 plan of obtaining good advice, and he immediately pro- 
 posed that I should place the money in his hands, which, 
 as he explained to me, was the common custom with 
 those who had floating sums which they wished to put in 
 security. 
 
 As, from all I had seen, I had not the slightest doubt 
 of the good man’s integrity, I acceded without hesita- 
 tion, but only asked, “ Are you not more likely to lose 
 it in travelling through the country unprotected, than 
 even I am in the midst of an army ? ” 
 
 “Not a single crown of it,” he said, laughing, “will 
 ever go out of this camp. The Prince de Conde will 
 have it all, and glad to get it. He is to receive two hun- 
 dred thousand crowns at Niort, from a Jewish house 
 with whom you yourself have had some dealings ; part 
 of the sum is on my account, and gold and silver plate 
 to the full amount is by this time in my brother’s hands 
 in Paris. The prince will be glad enough to have your 
 six thousand crowns in ready money, instead of my bill 
 upon Niort, which is the only way I should pay him. 
 I give you an acknowledgment for the money, payable 
 on demand ; and if you should want it, or any part of it, 
 
Ill 
 
 OR, HENRI HE CERONS. 
 
 you have nothing to do but to show my acknowledg- 
 ment to any banker or merchant, and draw upon me 
 what is called a bill of exchange. Were it not for these 
 bills, my good young friend, in such troublous times as 
 the present, no merchant would venture to stir out of 
 his own city, for fear of being skinned alive on account 
 of the money on his person.’ * 
 
 On this explanation, the money was soon sent for and 
 readily found; for my baggage had all been collected 
 together round the tent, and the ground in the imme- 
 diate vicinity was kept clear by my own people. After 
 paying over to Martin Yern the six thousand crowns, 
 deducting the sum that I had sent him for the redemp- 
 tion of the knife, there still remained in my hands nearly 
 five hundred crowns ; and, with many thanks, I repaid 
 to the good pastor, La Tour, the sum I had borrowed 
 from him on quitting the chateau of Blancford. 
 
 “I would not take it from you, my son,” he said, 
 “ but I see your exertions have been blessed with suc- 
 cess, and that you have already become what I may well 
 consider enormously rich.” 
 
 I would not tell him how changed my estimation of 
 enormous riches was, as I could not explain to him — 
 perhaps not even to myself — the causes of that change ; 
 but, even while we were speaking upon this subject, a 
 message from the Prince de Conde came to the tent, 
 seeking his Intendant and Martin Vern, who accordingly 
 sped away in all haste to confer with that general. 
 
 “ Will you let some of your men carry this gold for 
 me?” said Martin Vern ; adding, with a smile, “ This will 
 insure me a mighty warm reception from his highness.” 
 Taking care that he should have a sufficient escort, I 
 turned when the merchant was gone, to his nephew, and 
 asked him how he relished the thoughts of this imme- 
 diate journey to Paris, and whether his military ardour 
 was or was not at an end. To my surprise, however, I 
 found that he was as much changed in some of his 
 feelings as I was in some of mine ; and for the first time 
 I learned the cause of his whole conduct. 
 
 “ You must know,” he said, “that when I was living 
 
142 
 
 THE MAN AT AEMS ; 
 
 in Bordeaux, not long before my father’s death, we be- 
 came acquainted with a merchant’s widow and her 
 daughter, so well to do in the world, that it was pro- 
 posed I should marry the young lady. She was very 
 beautiful ; and I fancied myself desperately in love with 
 her. Indeed, I believe I was so ; but she had got her 
 head filled with ideas of battles and military glory ; and 
 though she coquetted with me a good deal, and gave me 
 every encouragement, so as to raise my passion to the 
 highest pitch, yet she declared that she would never give 
 her hand to any one but a soldier, or one, at least, who 
 had seen some service. If I would go and fight, she 
 said, for two or three campaigns, she liked me well 
 enough to promise to marry me; but she would not 
 consent upon any other condition. My father was so 
 enraged that he broke off the match altogether ; and, 
 dying shortly after, left me under the charge of my 
 uncle, who was even more averse to it than himself. I 
 could not see with their eyes at first, and thought of 
 nothing but how beautiful she was ; but, afterwards, 
 when I had done quite enough to show that it was not 
 fear prevented me from being a soldier, and was lying 
 at Angouleme in sickness and in pain, I began to think 
 that she must have been a very selfish and inconsiderate 
 person, to wish me to expose myself to such things for 
 the mere gratification of her vanity. If she loved me at 
 all, she ought to have loved me sufficiently as I was, — 
 plain Martin Yern ; and if she did not love me as I was, 
 and could love nothing but a soldier, why, a soldier let 
 her have. As time went by, and I had plenty of oppor- 
 tunity of thinking, as you know, I began to find out 
 that I had not loved her as much as I thought ; and not 
 at all doubting that the quality she most loved in a 
 soldier was a slashed pourpoint and the feather in his 
 cap, I began to think the only quality that I had liked 
 in her was a pair of rosy lips and a pink and white com- 
 plexion ; and, therefore, as soon as my uncle proposed 
 it, I expressed myself quite willing to go on with him to 
 Paris.” 
 
 There was something amusing to me in the sort of 
 
143 
 
 OR, HESRI EE CEROHS. 
 
 debtor and creditor account the young man seemed to 
 keep with his own heart ; but as it was now beginning 
 to wax late, I did my best to provide accommodation for 
 all the friends around me, and telling La Tour that I had 
 a scheme for gaining some information, the next morn- 
 ing, concerning the baron and his party, I led him to 
 another tent, leaving good Dame Margueiette where 
 she was, and took my station by one of the watch-fires 
 for the night. 
 
 The complete knowledge that we have of any little 
 stratagem that we attempt, makes us always fear more 
 than necessary that it will be suspected by others ; but 
 on the present occasion, I was not wrong in supposing 
 that an attempt might be made by the enemy to discover 
 the amount of the force upon these heights. It was 
 even probable that the extent of ground which we occu- 
 pied might create suspicion, as the position of the ad- 
 miral and the Prince de Conde was accurately known, 
 and it was not probable that they should weaken them- 
 selves by suffering a large detachment to occupy that 
 hill. However, I caused a number of saddled horses 
 and armed men to wait at the point where our camp 
 was most easily approached, and I remained by the side 
 of the fire, wrapped in my cloak, dozing, perhaps, a little, 
 but more frequently gazing upon the red embers, and 
 thinking of the fate of my sweet Louise. 
 
 Moric Endem, who had kept watch there during my 
 absence, left me in about half an hour, to get some re- 
 freshment. He was long ere he returned : and I cannot 
 say that good Moric was ever famous for shortening his 
 potations. "When he did come back, he cast himself 
 down at the other side of the fire ; and fell as sound 
 asleep on the hard ground, in the face of the enemy, as 
 if he had been in the warmest bed of a well-fenced 
 chateau. About five o’clock in the morning, having no 
 more wood to trim the fire, which was beginning to grow 
 very dull, I rose up and went out beyond the barricade 
 that we had constructed, gazing up at the stars, which 
 were shining in all the clear brightness of a frosty night. 
 
 As I so gazed, I thought I heard sounds from below ; 
 
144 
 
 THE MAN AT ABMS ; 
 
 and, looking down the slope, I clearly saw a body of 
 horse and foot advancing slowly and silently towards 
 our little camp. Going back quietly in haste, I woke 
 Moric Endem, got the men together without any noise, 
 stationed the arquebusiers amongst the carts and wag- 
 gons, with directions for no one to fire till the general 
 order should he given ; and then causing my troopers to 
 mount, I brought them close to the spot by which they 
 could issue forth upon the enemy. I could there, also, 
 see the Catholics as they approached ; and suffering 
 them to advance till within the distance of fifty or sixty 
 yards from the camp, I stood a little forward, like a sen* 
 tinel, and challenged them. They made no answer, but 
 only quickened their pace; but then, instead of dis- 
 charging my arquebuse, as a sentinel would have done, 
 and leaving any one who liked it to follow my example 
 according to the common custom, I gave the word to fire, 
 and in a moment a line of sharp flashes ran along the 
 face of the carts and waggons, and, springing on my horse, 
 I led out the men and charged the advancing body down 
 the hill. As well as I could see, I singled out their 
 commander, with the hope of making him prisoner, for 
 the body was evidently nothing more than a recon- 
 noitring party, and not much stronger numerically than 
 my own. 
 
 The surprise — for they had not calculated upon such 
 a reception — the darkness, to fight in which they were 
 altogether unaccustomed ; and, as I imagine, a want of 
 complete knowledge of the ground, rendered the resist- 
 ance of the enemy but momentary ; and we drove infantry 
 and cavalry down the hill together, at the point of the 
 spear, bearing to the Catholic camp, and to Martigue, 
 who had sent them, a somewhat exaggerated account, 
 I have a notion, of the strength upon the hill. I some- 
 how missed the commander in the dark ; but I struck 
 one man from his horse as he fled, with the staff of my 
 lance, and then pointing the iron to his throat, made 
 him surrender, rescue or no rescue, and gave him into 
 the hands of the people who followed. We pursued the 
 reconnoitring party as far, or perhaps further, than was 
 
145 
 
 OB, HENRI DE CEB02TS. 
 
 prudent ; and then returning, I ordered the prisoner to 
 be brought up to a somewhat better-lighted fire than the 
 one I had been sitting at, and asked him the questions 
 which I had proposed. 
 
 I found that he was a common soldier, though of good 
 family ; and on inquiring strictly in regard to the Earon 
 de Blancford and his party, he said that he had heard a 
 report in the corps to which he belonged, of that noble- 
 man having either come in and surrendered himself, or 
 having been made prisoner, with a promise of safety, by 
 some of the roving parties of the left wing. He de- 
 scribed to me, pretty accurately, the part of the camp 
 where he imagined the baron to be lodged ; and as his 
 own regiment could not be far from the spot, I took it 
 for granted that he was right. I then put him at a small 
 ransom for the sake of the men, and let him go upon 
 parole ; having taken especial care that he should see 
 nothing around him but the grim faces of steel-clad 
 horsemen, and the lighted matches of the arquebusiers. 
 
 Ey the time that all this was accomplished, the eastern 
 sky was beginning to grow gray, and a faint buzzing 
 murmur seemed to me to indicate some early movement 
 in the enemy’s camp, although the light was not yet 
 sufficiently strong for any eye to discern what was taking 
 place. The murmur increased and strengthened; but 
 of course I could make no attempt in such circumstances 
 without orders, and I sent down a messenger immedi* 
 ately to tell the Prince de Conde what had occurred, and 
 to ask for his instant commands. The reply was short ; 
 and written on a scrap of paper, with a piece of black 
 chalk. 
 
 “ I think the enemy are decamping,” the note said : “ if 
 it should prove so, take what men you have, as soon as 
 it is daylight, and hang upon the rear. You shall be 
 joined by fifty more as speedily as possible, — all under 
 your command. Eut be not too rash; for it is now 
 determined not to risk a battle till the season is more 
 advanced.” 
 
 Before the messenger with this notification reached 
 me, what the Prince de Conde had foreseen became 
 
 10 
 
146 
 
 THE MAN AT ARMS ; 
 
 evident. By the gray light of the morning, I conld see 
 the spears of the retreating army already winding along 
 the opposite hill, within two miles of the outposts of the 
 admiral. There was a thick white mist in the valley, 
 however, which covered the Catholic camp, and pre- 
 vented me from distinguishing what had taken place 
 there; but I judged, from the distance at which the 
 cavalry were now seen, that their retreat might be con- 
 sidered as secure. 
 
 Giving orders to Moric Endem to get every man that 
 he could muster under arms as fast as possible, I ran to 
 the tent of good old La Tour, and besought him not to 
 quit the army till my return, when I would bring or send 
 him some news of the baron and his family. Martin 
 Vern I had not an opportunity of seeing, though I 
 trusted that, as he had all my little wealth, and had not 
 even given me such a receipt as he had promised, I should 
 find him on my return. Not that I in the slightest de- 
 gree doubted his honesty or honour, but that I knew I 
 might have need of a part of what I had given him at a 
 moment’s notice. No time, however, was now to be 
 lost ; and getting into the saddle as speedily as possible, 
 X put myself at the head of my men and of the horse 
 arquebusiers, and dashed down into the enemy’s camp at 
 full speed. A portion of the baggage, and that in some 
 degree valuable, was left ; and Moric Endem, whom I 
 had jestingly named the Plunder-master-general, as he 
 conducted all that part of our military proceedings, made 
 a goodly booty in less than half an hour. 
 
 Ere we reached the end of the valley in pursuit a 
 body of twenty more spears and some arquebusiers 
 joined us, sent according to his promise by the Prince de 
 Conde, and their leader brought me an order to follow 
 the enemy as far as possible, and not to leave them unless 
 I was compelled, till they were two days’ march from 
 their former camp. X had neither tents nor any other 
 kind of baggage with me, and for a moment thought of 
 sending back to bid the servants and horse-boys follow ; 
 but recollecting of how much importance it was to lose 
 no time, I urged on the pursuit, and speedily overtook 
 
OB, HENRI DE CERONS. 147 
 
 a small body straggling from the rear-guard, whom we 
 drove in upon the rest at the point of the spear. 
 
 The appearance of the horse-arquebusiers behind us, 
 for they had not been quite so rapid in their movements 
 as the men at arms were, gave the idea of a much more 
 considerable body of pursuers than really followed the 
 enemy ; and a small troop of cavalry faced about and 
 charged. Amongst them was a mere youth ; but the 
 whole were routed in a moment, and the boy, thrown to 
 the ground, was absolutely under my horse’s feet. How 
 he escaped unhurt I do not know ; but I helped him to 
 rise, and scarcely thinking what I did, but looking on 
 him as a mere child, I bade him remount his horse, and 
 get back as fast as he could. He took me at my word, 
 and I did not see him again, though more than once 
 during the rest of the day we met a body of the enemy 
 in pretty sharp encounter. 
 
 During that night, I slept at a small village somewhat 
 in the rear of the enemy ; and on the following day 
 found it necessary to urge the pursuit somewhat more 
 cautiously, for here we were, in all not one hundred and 
 twenty men, nearly thirty miles distant from the Pro- 
 testant army, and without anything to fall back upon. 
 To cut off stragglers, therefore, was all that we could 
 do ; but towards evening we took some prisoners, 
 from whom I learned tidings that I was anxious to 
 obtain. 
 
 The Duke of Anjou had by this time halted and en- 
 camped for the night ; and the prisoners informed me 
 that they belonged to the regiment of Monsieur do la 
 A allette. On questioning them concerning the Baron de 
 Blancford, one of them, who seemed their leader, as- 
 sured me that he knew that gentleman and all his 
 family were detained as prisoners by the Duke of Mont- 
 pensier. He seemed a somewhat willing prisoner, the 
 man added, and was not guarded at all strictly, but 
 left under the eyes of the Marquis de la Vallette and his 
 regiment. Their tents, he said, were on the extreme 
 verge of the camp, to the right of the line of march ; and 
 the ease of carrying off the whole party seemed* to me 
 
148 THE MAH AT ABMS | 
 
 bo great, that I determined to make the attempt that 
 night. 
 
 We were still at some distance from the camp ; hut 
 to make the enterprise more secure, I retired a little 
 further still, to a village called Scorbe, and there re- 
 mained quiet, waiting with not a little impatience for the 
 first hour of night, which, as I well knew, is of all 
 others the time when a camp is left most exposed — 
 when the men, first feeling themselves relieved from 
 the vigilance, activity, and labour of the day, are thrown 
 more completely off their guard than at any other 
 period. 
 
 Here, in the meantime, I made all my arrange- 
 ments with Moric Endem and the leader of the arque- 
 busiers. The prisoners were safely locked up in a barn 
 belonging to a neighbouring farm, and their horses, 
 appropriated to our use, were destined to act a part 
 which will speedily be seen. 
 
 CHAPTEE XL 
 
 It was intensely cold when, just as it was turning dusk, 
 we set out from the little village upon our projected 
 expedition. The ground was as hard as iron, every 
 stream was held in icy shackles, and there was a dull 
 stillness in the air as if even the very sounds were 
 frozen. The shrill wintry melody of the robin had 
 ceased, the lowing of the cattle was over, and the crow- 
 ing of the watchful cock, heard in some far distant farm, 
 which once, and once only, broke the stillness as we 
 proceeded, made it seem more profound the moment the 
 sound had ceased. Notwithstanding the intensity of 
 the cold, or rather, perhaps, as a consequence of it, the 
 whole ground was covered with a light white mist. It 
 could not be called a fog ; and yet it, together with 
 the duskiness of the hour, rendered all the surrounding 
 objects difficult to be seen, magnifying them in size, and 
 
149 
 
 OB, HENRI DE CERONS. 
 
 even seeming to distort them in shape. There was no 
 wind to move the light vapoury cloud that lay ‘upon the 
 surface of the earth; hut as we rode on, sometimes 
 climbing high up over the slopes where the ground was 
 more clear, we could see the distant stars peeping 
 through with a faint and doubtful glimmer ; but when- 
 ever we were upon the low grounds, nothing whatever 
 could be seen around us at a greater distance than 
 twenty yards. 
 
 The arrangements which I had made were, that Moric 
 Endem, myself, and eight others, should keep in advance 
 of the party till we came near the camp of the enemy. 
 I was then to go on alone, endeavouring to find out the 
 tents which the prisoner had described as the lodging of 
 the Baron de Blancford. As soon as we had found it, I 
 was to return and draw up my men ; the greater part of 
 them with the arquebusiers were to remain in the nearest 
 sheltered spot I could find, and five or six others holding 
 saddled horses, on two of which I had contrived to place 
 pillions for Louise and the baroness, were to be as near 
 as I could bring them with safety to the camp. Having 
 arranged all this, I and the nine who had accompanied 
 me in advance were to dismount, and taking upon our 
 backs some sacks stuffed with straw, which we had 
 brought from the village, we were to walk forward and 
 attempt to enter the camp as a foraging party. 
 
 I felt sure that the enemy, having now discovered 
 that they were not followed by the bulk of the Pro- 
 testant army, would be, as indeed they always were, in 
 a very lax and careless state, and I doubted not that the 
 word would never be asked, and that we should be ad- 
 mitted without difficulty. In the first instance, however, 
 the whole party had nearly been discovered, for in the 
 darkness and the mist, instead of coming upon the tents 
 where we should have seen lights more readily, we sud- 
 denly found ourselves at the back of a village which was 
 stationed at the head of the right wing, and the loud 
 sound of merriment from within was the first thing that 
 gave us any intimation of our danger. 
 
 Drawing back as quietly and stealthily as possible, 
 
150 
 
 THE MAH AT ABMS ; 
 
 we passed round a small bank of osiers that grew by a 
 little stream, and then clearly distinguished the tents to 
 which I had been directed, by the lights which were 
 seen scattered here and there, and which seemed dim 
 and enlarged through the mist. I now found the de- 
 scription which the man had given so accurate, that I 
 could tell perfectly where I was at every step ; and 
 numbering the tents onward, from a large pavilion be- 
 longing to Martigue, the fiftieth tent on that side 
 brought me to the spot where the Baron de Blancford 
 was said to be lodged. 
 
 We had ridden slowly along, skirting the bank of 
 osiers which I have mentioned, upon a little eminence 
 between it and the euemy’s camp ; and stationing my 
 arquebusiers and spare lances behind, with the led 
 horses, just covered by the brow, the party assigned to 
 enter the camp dismounted. Taking our sacks upon 
 our backs, we approached the tents ; and, to say the 
 truth, the enterprise was somewhat hazardous to the 
 undertakers thereof, and somewhat rash. We had to 
 recollect that, if we were taken, though we were in arms, 
 and had every signal of the Protestant party about us, 
 yet it was not at all improbable that, in those days, we 
 should be hanged at once for spies. However, we were 
 not persons to be much daunted by the thought of 
 consequences, and we walked boldly forward towards 
 the tents. 
 
 As we had skirted along from the village to the spot 
 where I had halted the chief body of my men, we had 
 seen nothing to give us any alarm. The buzz, the noise, 
 the.merriment of a camp were heard, it is true, but were 
 heard from a distance ; and where we were, reigned all 
 the stillness and quietness of the suburb, as it were. Ho 
 sight was to be seen indicating human life, except, every 
 now and then, beheld through the canvas street, some 
 tall form, magnified by the mist, either accidentally 
 crossing the light of a watch-fire, or bending down to 
 stir it into a brighter blaze. Hot a soldier who could 
 help it, put out the unsheltered head in that intense 
 frost ; and as the wine in the neighbourhood was cheap 
 
151 
 
 OB, HENBI DE CEBONS. 
 
 and abundant, every opportunity bad been given by tbe 
 generals to keep up tbe warmtb of tbe body, by deep 
 potations taken in the tents and bouses. 
 
 Fixing upon tbe tents which I conceived to be as- 
 signed to tbe Baron de Blancford, and which I bad been 
 told were six in number, I gave Moric Endem and 
 Andriot, who accompanied me, full directions what to 
 do on their part, while I, with two of the other men, 
 proceeded to the principal tent, to liberate the baron 
 and his family. Bearing, then, our sacks upon our 
 shoulders, we approached a little breast-work which 
 seemed to have been constructed on some former occa- 
 sion, and entered a gap therein, when a soldier, who had 
 been sitting in the ditch beyond, started up with his 
 pike in his hand, and demanded the pass-word. I mur- 
 mured out something that he did not hear, keeping 
 myself prepared, however, in case he persisted, to cut 
 him down at once ; but he seemed little disposed to take 
 any very exact note of our proceedings ; and seeing the 
 sacks, he took us, as I hoped he would, for a foraging 
 party, and, consequently, suffered us to pass, without 
 making me repeat the word more than once, though I 
 cannot suppose that my reply was at all like it. As 
 soon as we were within the camp, each man applied 
 himself to his task, and, without taking any note of 
 what the others were about, I, with two stout fellows 
 behind me, approached the largest of the tents, and 
 throwing down the sacks, I pulled back the canvas and 
 entered. The moment that I did so, I found that I was 
 so far right. The Baron de Blancford was before me 
 seated at a table with wine upon it, and some dried fruit. 
 He was quite alone, without even a page ; but there was 
 a division in the tent, and I concluded the rest of his 
 family were in the chamber beyond. 
 
 Immediately on the entrance of myself and my two 
 followers, he rose and looked at us with some suprise, 
 demanding, “ What want you, gentlemen ? Do you come 
 from the Duke of Montpensier P ” 
 
 Holding up my finger for the purpose of making him 
 understand not to speak loud, I raised the visor of my 
 
152 
 
 THE MAN AT ABMS ; 
 
 casque, saying, “ My lord, I heard you were a prisoner, 
 contrary to the tenor of the safe-conduct which you 
 bear, and therefore I have come at once to liberate you. 
 Horses and guards are waiting. If you choose to em- 
 brace the opportunity, you may be free at once.” 
 
 I never in my life beheld utter astonishment so com- 
 pletely depicted on a human countenance as on his. 
 
 “ Henri de Cerons ! ” he exclaimed, gazing at me as if 
 he could scarcely believe his eyes, “ is this true ? can 
 this be true, or is it a dream?” 
 
 “ It is true, my lord,” I replied, “ perfectly true. But 
 we have no time to lose, if you would take advantage of 
 the moment of escape. My men are preparing your ser- 
 vants, and I will ensure your perfect safety to the camp 
 of the Prince de Cond6.” 
 
 He still continued to gaze at me for a moment, as if 
 he yet could scarcely convince himself that it was all 
 true ; but the next instant he asked, “ And do you really 
 still, Henri, take such an interest in me and mine as to 
 risk your life to free us ? ” 
 
 “ Indeed, my lord, I do,” I replied. “ I believe you 
 have not understood me rightly in former days ; but my 
 love and gratitude to you, and others that are gone, be- 
 lieve me, are quite as lively as any one could require or 
 wish.” 
 
 He seemed somewhat touched, and mused a moment ; 
 but, just as he was about to reply, the baroness entered 
 from the inner part of the tent, and in an instant the 
 evil spirit seemed to come over him again. 
 
 “ No,” he said, “ no ; I must not and I cannot go. 
 They detain me only till they ascertain the accuracy of 
 my safe-conduct. No, sir: I fear you have taken this 
 trouble for nothing.” 
 
 “ Are you, my lord, quite decided ? ” I said ; “ for this 
 can never be risked again. Every moment that I stay 
 here is, as you know, full of peril ; but the moment is 
 before you, if you choose to seize it.” 
 
 While I was speaking, the baroness came round the 
 table towards me, gazed in my face with a look of 
 coquettish wonder, and, ere her husband could answer, 
 
153 
 
 OB, HEKBI DE CEBONS. 
 
 exclaimed, “ Good heavens ! this is the young gentleman 
 who only suffered one to see him for a moment at Blanc- 
 ford ; and has he really had the generosity to come hither 
 in order to rescue us ? ” 
 
 “Whatever he has come here for, madam,” answered 
 the baron, “ he comes, as you well know, in vain ; for, 
 of course, we must remain with the king’s troops, till 
 the authenticity of our safe-conduct is ascertained.” 
 
 “Nay, but speak gently, baron,” said the lady, 
 “speak gently, for pity’s sake. Surely you are in- 
 debted to him.” 
 
 “I am,” said the baron, “but ” 
 
 At that moment, close to where we stood, burst forth 
 the report of a pistol-shot, with some loud tongues 
 speaking. 
 
 “ Come you or not, my lord ? ” I cried ; “ this is the 
 last moment.” 
 
 “ Of course I come not,” replied the baron. “ Go, 
 go, Henri,” he added, with a momentary emotion of 
 feeling : “ I thank you, I thank you, but I cannot 
 come.” 
 
 I left the tent instantly, with some disappointment 
 that, even in that short moment, I had not beheld 
 Louise. The moment I was beyond the canvas walls, 
 however, the voice of Moric Endem met my ear, and I 
 darted towards the spot where we had left the sentry. 
 
 “ This way, sir, this way,” cried Moric, as soon as he 
 perceived me by the light of the fire ; “ I have been 
 obliged to shoot the pikeman, and we shall have them 
 all upon us in a minute. See, see, there are some fel- 
 lows coming up there. Are not your friends ready F — 
 Then you must leave them ; for, by heavens, we shall 
 have hot work before we make our escape."” 
 
 “ They do not come, Moric, they do not come,” I 
 cried, hurrying on towards the gap. “ Could you not 
 have dealt with him more quietly? Eire-arms make 
 such a noise.” 
 
 “ He kept me off with his pike,” said Moric, speaking 
 as we hurried along, “ and if I hadn’t shot him he would 
 have stopped the lady,” 
 
154 
 
 THE MAH AT AEMS ° 9 
 
 “ What lady, in the name of Heaven ? ” I exclaimed, 
 pausing in astonishment, when Moric seized me by the 
 arm, saying, — 
 
 “ Come on, come on, my lord ! There’s no stopping 
 to think now ! — I mean the lady Andriot brought out.” 
 
 I paused not an instant longer, but hurried on like 
 lightning to the spot where the led horses were held. 
 The mist prevented me from seeing anything till I was 
 close upon them ; but then, to my confusion and con- 
 sternation, I beheld seated on the pillion behind the lad 
 Andriot, the light, beautiful figure of Louise de Blanc- 
 ford, with no other covering against the cold of the 
 night but a thick veil thrown over her head. 
 
 “ Grood God! ” I exclaimed, running up, “ they have 
 made a mistake, Louise ; — dear Louise, your father will 
 not come, and to take you back would cost my life and 
 that of every one with me.” 
 
 “ Then you shall not go, Henri,” she said, instantly 
 recognising me, and holding out her arms towards me ; 
 “you will take care of me, you will protect me till I can 
 go back to my father in safety.” 
 
 “ But you are not dressed, dear child, for such a night 
 as this,” I cried. “ Where is my horse ? Grive me the 
 cloak from the saddle-bow.” 
 
 And throwing it over her shoulders, I was clasping it 
 around her neck, when Moric Endem shook me violently 
 by the arm, exclaiming, “ Mount, mount, Seigneur de 
 Cerons, and begone! They are already in the saddle 
 and after us!” 
 
 I sprang upon my horse’s back in a moment, snatched 
 my spear from one of the boys, and, turning to Andriot, 
 exclaimed, “ Do you know the way exactly back to the 
 village of Scorbe ? ” 
 
 “ Every step, sir,” he answered boldly. 
 
 “ Away, then,” I cried, “ away, on before ! You, 
 Moric, and the rest accompany the lady and protect 
 her. I will soon make these pursuers turn upon their 
 steps.” 
 
 “I stay with you, sir,” replied Moric. “Arlivault 
 and the rest on with the lady and the boy! ” 
 
15S 
 
 OB, HENEI DE CEEONS. 
 
 Andriot, who was an excellent horseman, dashed down 
 the side of the hill, crossed the little stream, and away 
 over the lea, while I with Moric galloped down to the 
 arquebusiers by the osier bank, and the body of lances 
 that I had left at the corner. We had scarcely reached 
 them when the horses of the pursuers stopped upon the 
 brow of the hill, and though we could not see them, we 
 could hear them shouting, as they turned towards the 
 camp, “ Torches ! bring torches ! They must be down 
 here ! They cannot escape. There are many on foot, 
 for we saw them ! ” 
 
 A minute after, a glare of light, as of a number of 
 links and torches, appeared coming up from the camp, 
 and we could see the figures of some fifteen or twenty 
 men at arms on horseback, shining out upon the red 
 back-ground of the mingled mist and torch-light. 
 
 “ Now, arquebusiers,” I said, “ give them one volley, 
 then quick upon your horses, and off back to the village.” 
 
 The fire-arms were lowered in a moment, and, just 
 as some fresh men, to the amount of twenty or thirty 
 more, were coming over the slope, our osier bank blazed 
 with a long line of fire. Down went five or six of the 
 coming horses and men, and the arquebusiers springing 
 on their horses obeyed the orders they had received. 
 
 “ What say you, lances ?” I cried. “ We will never 
 ride off without striking a blow.” 
 
 “ Upon them, upon them, lucky captain,” cried the 
 men ; and, though we had the hill against us, we 
 galloped up with our lances levelled upon the enemy, 
 who were already in a state of hesitation and confusion 
 from the unexpected fire they had encountered, and 
 who began to fly at the very sound of charging horse, 
 which they could not see sufficiently to distinguish the 
 numbers. In this terrible state we drove them in, one 
 tumbling over the other, horses and torches, and officers 
 and men, all well nigh frightened out of their wits, and 
 more than one meeting the fate of a coward by the 
 stroke of a lance in the back. One man had brought 
 out, it would seem, with him the cornet of his troop, 
 and had very nearly got into the gap in safety ; but I 
 
156 
 
 THE MAN AT AEMS ; 
 
 was up with him just as he was struggling to push his 
 way forward before the other fugitives. I caught hold 
 of the standard pole ; and, raising the staff of my lance 
 in my hand, I struck him a blow upon the cowardly 
 head that felled him to the earth. 
 
 “ Here, take the cornet, Moric,” I replied. “ And 
 now, my men, we will wish them good night.” 
 
 A loud laugh burst from those who heard me, which, 
 I believe, impressed upon the flyers a notion that we 
 were perfectly secure in our numbers, more than any 
 other part of the affray, and I heard afterwards that it 
 was reported in the camp of the Due d’ Anjou, that I 
 had beat up the quarters of La Valette with five hun- 
 dred men. 
 
 "We then passed the stream and the osier bank in 
 safety, and whether we were again pursued or not 
 during the night I cannot tell. "With the horse arque- 
 busiers we easily came up, for they had lingered a 
 moment or two upon the opposite slope, with some 
 anxiety about our fate ; but we rode on for some way 
 afterwards without seeing anything of Louise or her 
 escort, and I began to feel apprehensions lest they 
 should have missed their way. The fog was increasing 
 in density, the frost was most intense, and, though more 
 than once we halted to listen if horses’ feet could be dis- 
 tinguished, not a sound broke the stillness of the night. 
 
 We had ridden about a league and a half, and it now 
 became a question, for a moment, whether we were 
 ourselves on the right road, but the unfailing sagacity 
 of Moric Endem pointed out marks which proved that 
 we were not mistaken. There was a tree here that 
 looked like an old suttling woman, with a bottle under 
 her arm; there was a small maiterie there with some 
 trees round it, which looked like a partridge garnished 
 with endive, and on we went in perfect security upon 
 our road for two or three miles further. 
 
 “ Hark !” cried Moric Endem, as we were going over 
 a gentle slope : “ there was a pistol-shot, far off to the 
 left. It may be a signal that they have lost their way.” 
 We halted and listened, and, as the wind, though very 
 light, was from that side, I thought I heard the sound 
 
157 
 
 OB, HENEI DE CEEOHS. 
 
 of horses’ feet. I bade them then fire an arquebuse in 
 return, and two minutes after another pistol-shot was 
 heard, which at once confirmed the supposition of Moric 
 Endem. 
 
 Turning our horses that way with a shout and a 
 halloo, we rode on as fast as we could, and, at the dis- 
 tance of about two miles to the left of the true road, we 
 came up with a party which proved to be that we were 
 in search of. Biding up to the side of Louise, I bestowed 
 not a few harsh words upon Master Andriot for having 
 misled the party, and then, taking Louise’s hand in 
 mine, I said everything in order to make her comfort- 
 able and put her mind at ease that the circumstances 
 permitted, being surrounded by a number of people who 
 heard every word that was spoken. Her hand was 
 like a piece of ice, and I found that she was suffering 
 much from the intense cold, yet how to assist her I 
 could not tell. I became, I confess, greatly alarmed 
 about her : nor were my fears without some foundation ; 
 for, two or three days before, I had seen the hands of 
 one of our men so completely frost-bitten as to require 
 the amputation of two of the fingers. Nothing, how- 
 ever, was to be done but to ride on as fast as possible, 
 and yet we were all so far from the right road that the 
 time of our journey to the village must necessarily be 
 lengthened, and was, in some degree, uncertain. 
 
 After riding on for about three miles more, however, 
 I saw r a long building on the left, and on a nearer 
 approach found that it was one of those large granaries 
 or barns which are found scattered about so frequently 
 in Poitou and Sainctonge at great distances from any 
 habitation. Though it was a miserable shelter enough, 
 yet, as it promised to afford us a covering against the 
 intense cold, I turned our horses’ heads thither, saying 
 that, at all risks, we must break it open, in order to 
 obtain some shelter for the young lady. Not a little to 
 my satisfaction, however, the door was found unlocked, 
 and the place completely vacant, and, on entering, we 
 found that it was divided into two by a wooden parti- 
 tion, which separated a small space, in the shape of an 
 
158 
 
 THE MAH AT AEMS ; 
 
 ordinary room, from the great barn and threshing-floor. 
 This we discovered by lighting two or three coils of 
 match that we had brought with us, and lifting Louise 
 from her horse I carried her into the inner room in my 
 arms, for she was so stiff with the cold that she could 
 hardly move. 
 
 Soldiers may, doubtless, have a multitude of faults, 
 but the tenderness and care that they can, sometimes, 
 exhibit towards the weak and the suffering, form a 
 strange contrast, occasionally, with the savage fury they 
 display under excitement. Nothing could exceed the 
 kindness, the diligence, the attention with which they 
 crowded round to give assistance to poor Louise ; one 
 cheering her with a kindly word, another bringing in 
 the pillions to make a comfortable seat for her, a third 
 rushing in with his arms full of apple branches, which 
 he had torn down from the neighbouring trees, and 
 which, placed on a hearth that we found in the inner 
 room, soon raised a cheerful and a blazing fire. Moric 
 Endem, for his part, brought from his saddle-bow 
 an appendage without which he never travelled, and 
 which, on the present occasion, proved of the utmost 
 service. This was one of the gourds dried in the form 
 of a bottle, and filled with excellent wine, and I insisted 
 upon Louise drinking some of the contents, which I 
 believe, more than anything, prevented her from suffer- 
 ing severely. 
 
 Some more piles of wood were soon brought in, 
 together with some other cloaks, and Moric and the 
 rest, having seen that everything had been done to 
 make Louise as comfortable as the circumstances per- 
 mitted, retired into the larger division of the barn, to 
 provide, as best they might, for the passing of a long 
 winter’s night, Moric leading the way, and saying, 
 “ Better leave the seigneur and his cousin alon$. I 
 dare say they have a great deal to say to each other.” 
 
 “ Is he her cousin ?” I heard one of the men ask, as 
 they went out, turning at the same time to Andriot ; “ I 
 thought most likely he was her lover.” 
 
 “He is her cousin,” replied Andriot, “You might 
 
OB, HENRI HE CERONS. * 159 
 
 almost call them brother and sister, indeed, for they 
 have been like such all their lives.” 
 
 I had, indeed, always felt so towards Louise de Blanc- 
 ford ; I had loved her as a very dear sister, with whom 
 no word had ever been exchanged but that of kindness 
 and affection, and such had been simply my sensations 
 till the moment when, quitting her father’s house, I 
 sought my own fortunes in the wide world. I have 
 said, then, that a dream came up befdre my eyes, that 
 a vision of future happiness connected itself with the 
 remembrance of Louise, that I felt that I could not be 
 happy, that I could not even figure to myself a state of 
 happiness, without the dear, the beloved companion of 
 my infancy and my youth. 
 
 Brom that moment, new and deeper feelings began to 
 mingle with the memory of Louise ; hopes and visions, 
 and fancies bright and enchanting, dreams of joy and 
 satisfaction in meeting her again; aspirations to con- 
 quer every difficulty and overcome all resistance, till 
 I had raised myself high, for her sake. Yfas this love, 
 or merely a dream of the fancy, — a boyish fondness for 
 the girl that had been brought up with me ? I cannot 
 well tell, but I think not ; for love can have no greater 
 intensity of regard and affection than I felt towards 
 Louise de Blancford : imagination might gild it ; but 
 does not imagination gild love also ? It wanted some- 
 thing indeed. I had looked upon Louise with fondness, 
 I can scarcely say that it was with admiration, for I had 
 been so much accustomed to the sight of her beauty 
 that I did not know how beautiful she was, even as a 
 girl, till afterwards, in comparing the beauty of others 
 whom I saw with her image in my memory, I found 
 that there was none at all like her. 
 
 If there was anything wanting, however, to render 
 that which I felt towards her love of the deepest, the 
 most intense, the tenderest, the most passionate nature, 
 it was wanting no longer after that night. The dear 
 embrace which she had given me when first we met ; 
 the touch of her hand when we came up with her after 
 the little skirmish ; the holding her in my arms and to 
 
160 
 
 THE MAN AT AKMS j 
 
 my bosom, as I carried her from her horse into the 
 building ; the anxiety for her, the fear, the tenderness, 
 the care, gave warmer, nearer, more engaging, if not 
 more intense sensations to my affection for her ; and 
 from that moment I felt I loved her with all the fire and 
 energy of passion. 
 
 By the warmth of the fire, Louise soon began to re- 
 vive, her eyes to sparkle brightly again, and the natural 
 colour to come into her lips and cheek. She had been 
 scarcely able to speak when we entered, but now she 
 answered my eager words kindly, though briefly, and 
 added a bright smile, and let her hand press mine, to 
 thank me more than she was able to do in words. Oh ! 
 how beautiful she did look then, as gradually the bright 
 returning stream of life flowed more rapidly through her 
 veins, and every moment seemed to bring out some new 
 loveliness. I cannot but think that so must have looked 
 the ivory statue of the Greek sculptor, when his prayer 
 of love was heard, and it was kindled into sudden life. 
 She was changed, much changed, since last I saw her : 
 she was now just sixteen ; and what a difference one 
 year will make at that period of life ! every alteration 
 had been an addition to the beauty that she possessed 
 before : she was now a woman — when I had left her a 
 girl, and the brightness of perfection had bden added to 
 the rich promise of beauty. 
 
 She seemed not to see or to feel that there was any 
 change in me ; the endearing names which we had used 
 towards each other in youth, were still employed ; the 
 terms of love and deep affection were nothing new to 
 us, and nothing strange ; and while I called her “ dear 
 Louise, — my own Louise, — my sweet, dear girl,” and 
 used every term expressive of the fondest affection, it 
 seemed all quite natural, and she murmured in reply, 
 “ Dear, dear Henri, how glad I am to see you again !” 
 
 I may own it, for it was all harmless and pure, my 
 lips were pressed on hers more than once, and her hand 
 remained clasped in mine, while her head leaned upon 
 my bosom. The casque I had laid aside at my first 
 entrance, the iron cuirass soon became a load to me ; 
 
161 
 
 on, nmm be ceeoks. 
 
 and I threw it off also, and smiling at me as I did so, 
 she said, “ Ah, dear Henri, you now look more like 
 what you did at Blaneford.” 
 
 I sat down beside her on the ground near the fire, 
 and chafed her hand, which was still cold, though not 
 so intensely so as before, and in about an hour she was 
 nearly well again. It seemed to me, however, that as 
 she recovered from the effects of the cold, she became 
 somewhat anxious and thoughtful, and she asked me 
 many questions about the adventures of that night — 
 whether I had seen her father, and what he had said. 
 
 I told her all exactly as it had happened ; but still she 
 seemed anxious, and I said, “ It will be easily explained, 
 dear Louise, and your father will understand in a mo 
 ment, that it was impossible to return when the alarm 
 was once given.” 
 
 “I am afraid,” she said, hesitating, “ I am afraid that 
 the baroness will say everything that is cutting and 
 unkind. I know what she will say quite well. She 
 will say, that I came away with you willingly enough, 
 for she used always to speak in that manner at Blanc- 
 ford, after you went, and would never hear me mention 
 your name, or look at all thoughtful, without saying, 
 she was sure I wished to go and join you. She thus 
 tried very much to make my father angry with me ; but 
 still he was not angry.” 
 
 “ And did you ever wish to come and join me, Louise? ” 
 I said. 
 
 There was a slight blush upon her cheek ; but she 
 answered at once, “ I wished every day that you were 
 there, Henri ; for I have never had a happy hour since 
 you were gone. We could not have been so happy, 
 indeed, as we used to be, even had you been there, but 
 still we might have had a few sweet hours together. 
 Now I am afraid — though I am sure I do not know 
 what harm there is in being with you — she will say 
 everything that is unkind if she finds that I am away 
 with you alone for many days.” 
 
 “Do not be afraid, sweetest,” I replied ; “to-morrow 
 we shall arrive at our own camp, where you will find 
 
 11 
 
162 
 
 THE MAN AT AEMS ; 
 
 good Dame Marguelette and Monsieur La Tour. Tinder 
 their protection no one can say anything ; and for the 
 night, dearest Louise, you shall be under mine, and let 
 the man who dares, say that I do not protect you 
 rightly- ” 
 
 “ Oh, that you will, that you will,” she said, “ I have 
 not the least fear, Henri, with you ; and I am sure, if 
 good Monsieur La Tour be there, I shall like being with 
 him much better than being near the baroness.” 
 
 Our conversation was interrupted by some one 
 knocking at the door, and bidding him come in, Moric 
 Endem presented himself, accompanied by Andriot and 
 a good farmer of the country, whose face was somewhat 
 pale, rather with surprise than fear, and who looked 
 round the apartment with an inquiring glance, as if 
 asking what he was to meet with next. They were all 
 loaded with different sorts of provisions, however, and it 
 soon appeared that Moric, well knowing that there 
 must be some farm-house at not many miles’ distance 
 from the barn, had set out in search of one with Andriot, 
 and a sufficient number of the soldiery to give force to 
 his entreaties for hospitality. 
 
 The farm had been found more easily than they 
 expected ; the farmer and his wife were roused, and on 
 the representation that there was a young lady in want 
 of food and assistance, joined to a promise of prompt 
 payment, the farmer was easily induced to rise, and 
 bring forth everything that his house contained, which 
 could afford us food or comfort. Heaps of blankets and 
 coarse woollen cloths, piles of straw and hay, several 
 large bottles and stoups of wine, a large pie not yet 
 broken into, and sausages and andouillettes with bread, 
 and a jar of baked apples, had been brought down by 
 the different men, for our comfort and consolation in 
 the barn. It was about two miles, they said, to the 
 farm-house, and the good farmer offered, with every 
 show of readiness, to provide Louise with a lodging 
 there till the next morning. 
 
 At first the impression on my mind was that, not- 
 withstanding the cold walk or ride which she must take, 
 
163 
 
 OB, HENEI DE CEBOm 
 
 it would be better for Louise, in every point of view, to 
 go up to the farm at once. But I saw, by the sign the 
 man made on entering the room in which we were, that 
 he was a Catholic. I remembered the proximity of the 
 Catholic army, too, and that it would be extreme cruelty 
 to order any of the men in such a night as that, to keep 
 watch round the house. I therefore thanked him for 
 his offer, but declined it; and, after having paid him 
 handsomely for his trouble and attention, saw him 
 depart, but not without bidding Moric Endem take some 
 heed of which way he turned his steps. 
 
 My next care was to make a sort of temporary bed 
 for my sweet cousin, and then having taken what por- 
 tion of the provisions we wanted, and distributed the 
 rest amongst the soldiery, I supped gaily and happily 
 with Louise, and passed nearly two hours in conversa- 
 tion, sometimes, indeed, mingling sad things with sweet 
 ones, but with many an affectionate word between. It 
 was evident to me that Louise was unconscious of any 
 change in her own feelings towards me, or in mine to 
 her ; and I blessed that unconsciousness, for it suffered 
 a thousand little tender tokens of affection to display 
 themselves openly in her conduct, which might have 
 been driven back into the shy recesses of the heart, had 
 she known the full strength of my sensations towards 
 her. The only thought that seemed to have given her 
 uneasiness, had been altogether removed by my telling 
 her that we should join good La Tour on the following 
 day, and the joy of our meeting again seemed chequered 
 by nothing but some timid fears lest we should be pur- 
 sued, and overpowered by some force from the Catholic 
 camp. 
 
 Thus passed the time brightly and happily, till at 
 length the chimes of a distant clock, though we could 
 hear it but faintly, told that one hour had passed after 
 midnight. Best, I knew, was needful to her, and I spread 
 out the cloaks and blankets on the straw, so as to insure 
 that no cold should there visit those young tender limbs, 
 and piled up a quantity of wood upon the hearth, 
 
1 64 
 
 THE MAN AT ARMS; 
 
 insuring the long continuance of the fire by burying a 
 considerable part in the ashes. 
 
 I then took Louise in my arms, and kissed her, wish- 
 ing her good night ; but she seemed somewhat fright- 
 ened at the idea of my leaving her, asking why I could 
 not stay beside her, and sleep by the fire too. I could 
 have stayed and watched beside her with the greatest 
 pleasure ; but I would not have it said by any one that 
 such had been the case. The men were still talking to- 
 gether in the next chamber ; the door I had purposely 
 left ajar, and pointing out to Louise, that the only 
 window was up near the roof, through which no one 
 could pass, I told her that I would lay myself down 
 across her door till the morning, so that she might be 
 sure no one could come in. 
 
 “ Dear Louise,” I said, “ I must not stay, I ought not 
 to stay with you.” 
 
 I again held her for a moment to my heart ; the colour 
 had come up highly into her cheek, and she hid her face 
 for an instant on my bosom. 
 
 “ Thank you, Henri, thank you,” she said, when she 
 raised her head, still leaving her hand in mine. “ You 
 are good as well as kind.” And from that moment, 
 though she did not love me less, Louise felt that we 
 could no longer be brother and sister to each other. 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 It was with a feeling of some gladness, that after a 
 long, and, to my fair Louise, somewhat fatiguing march, 
 I at length saw the camp of the reformed army occu- 
 pying a position not very distant from that in which it 
 had been placed when I left it. The convenience of the 
 troops had of course been consulted, and the greater 
 part of the army had been put into quarters, either in 
 the town of Loudun, or in the villages round about. 
 
165 
 
 OB, HENRI DE CER0NS. 
 
 Three or four of these villages to the south-east of 
 Loudun had, indeed, been converted into one camp by 
 long lines of tents, which served the soldiery for many 
 of the occupations of the day, and here I saw the colours 
 of the Prince de Conde, so that it was to the centre of 
 this part of the army that I directed my progress, 
 knowing that there my own tents and baggage would 
 be found. 
 
 The frost was somewhat less intense, and the sun was 
 shining clear and bright, when my little cavalcade 
 approached a battery of three small pieces of artillery 
 which defended the principal entrance of the village in 
 the centre. It was a gay and cheerful scene, strife for a 
 time had ceased, and the soldiers were amusing them- 
 selves, as best they might, though just on the outside 
 of the camp the amusements that were going on were 
 certainly all of an athletic kind, for it needed somewhat 
 robust exercise to make the blood circulate freely in the 
 terrible cold of that year. A considerable number of 
 officers and gentlemen were gathered together near the 
 battery I have spoken of, looking out over the wintry 
 scene before them, and as my coming formed a little 
 incident in the somewhat monotonous life they had led 
 for the last' two days, five or six of those who knew me 
 came forth to shake hands, and to congratulate me on 
 my safe return. 
 
 “Well, fortunate De Cerons,” cried one, looking 
 somewhat earnestly at Louise, who had drawn the veil 
 down her whole head and face as we approached, “ you 
 have made a fair booty, as usual.” 
 
 He spoke with a smile, but I replied, “ I sent all that 
 I did get back to the camp the day before yesterday ; 
 but all that was found was in the tents, I believe. I 
 have been lucky enough, however, to rescue my fair 
 cousin Mademoiselle de Blancford, from the hands of 
 the Catholics, who had taken her prisoner, so I must 
 see where I can find some sort of comfortable quarters. 
 You have no idea, Monsieur de Luze, where my people 
 are with the baggage ? ” 
 
 ‘•Oh, the Prince de Conde has taken especial good 
 
166 
 
 THE MAH AT AEMS ; 
 
 care of you,” said the other, laughing ; “ he has given 
 you the house of a fat farmer there up at the end of the 
 village, and a cottage close by it for your people. Mont- 
 gomery wanted it, and half-a-dozen others, but he said 
 you had done him as much service that night by your 
 army of baggage waggons on the hill, as if you had 
 brought him up ten thousand men, and, therefore, 
 having sent you to follpw the enemy, he would be your 
 quarter-master him self. * ’ 
 
 I thanked him for his information, and was riding on, 
 but another stopped me, putting his hand upon the 
 bridle, and asking, “ Do you always go to war, brave 
 de Cerons, with a femme de chambre in your suite ? ” 
 
 My cheek began to glow, for I thought he had applied 
 that term to Louise : but he added immediately, “I do 
 not know whether you are aware of it, but there are 
 three or four femmes de chambre, with five or six old blue- 
 nosed serving men, and a good old clergyman, who 
 preached us an excellent sermon yesterday, have taken 
 possession of your quarters, right or wrong, though the 
 Prince refused them to me and to Montgomery.” 
 
 “ That is your father’s servants, and La Tour, and 
 your own women, Louise,” I said. “We must ride on 
 and find them out. They will all be right glad to see 
 you safe.” 
 
 But I was destined to be stopped once more, for one 
 of the officers I had just passed called after me as the 
 troop rode in — “ Hi, de Cerons ! Pli ! Where did you get 
 this, that the man is carrying ? Why, it is Martigue’s 
 own cornet ! ” 
 
 “ It is his no longer,” I answered ; “ but the fact is, 
 I beat up their quarters in their camp last night. They 
 came out after me, and we drove them back again, 
 taking their cornet.” 
 
 “ You are certainly the luckiest man in the camp,” 
 cried another. But without waiting for any more ob- 
 servations, I rode on as quickly as possible towards the 
 house which had been indicated as my quarters. It 
 proved, however, that eager eyes had been looking out 
 for my return, and before I had reached the farm-house, 
 
167 
 
 QE, HENBI BE CEBONS. 
 
 good La Tour was out, and through the little gate of the 
 court-yard, to meet me. The old man’s face sparkled 
 with joy when he saw me, but ten times more when he 
 saw Louise along with me ; and he exclaimed, embrac- 
 ing me as closely as my iron covering would permit, “I 
 should never do for a soldier, my dear Henri, I should 
 never do for a soldier. I have been more anxious than 
 you can conceive, every half hour. Every movement, 
 I thought that it was either you returned, or some one 
 to say that you had been killed or wounded.” 
 
 “ Oh, you would soon learn to forget such things, my 
 good friend,” I said. “But, dear La Tour, here is a 
 poor girl who wants not a little comfort and consolation, 
 so I will leave her with you for one hour to tell her own 
 story and mine, too, and go and repeat my proceedings 
 to the Prince de Conde.” 
 
 “Ay, you must do so quickly,” replied the old man; 
 “ for I hear he sets out for Niort either this night, or 
 early to-morrow morning. But I will take care of this 
 dear child till you come back, and — see, here comes 
 Marguelette to welcome her mistress.” 
 
 While Marguelette w r as literally shrieking with joy 
 and surprise, I gave orders to Moric Endem to lodge 
 the men, and to entertain the horse arquebusiers who 
 had been our companions, at my expense, and then, with 
 a boy to guide me, and one of my troop carrying the 
 cornet we had taken, behind me, I hurried on with all 
 speed to an old sort of chateau, called the manoir, where 
 the prince had taken up his quarters. There were peo- 
 ple hurrying about the place, preparing, it seemed, 
 for departure ; but on my being admitted, I found him 
 sitting calmly with De Luze, who had joined him, and 
 given the news of my return, before my appearance. 
 There were several others present, and amongst them 
 the famous Montgomery, better known for accidentally 
 killing Henry II., king of Prance, than for all the bold, 
 gallant, and chivalrous actions he performed, and one or 
 two other gentlemen, all of whom looked as merry as 
 might be. 
 
 “ You find us laughing on your return, and left ua 
 
168 
 
 THE MAH AT AKMS ; 
 
 laughing as heartily as we could, Monsieur de Cerons,” 
 said the prince, “ over the affair of the varlets and the 
 baggage-waggons, and your most excellent and suc- 
 cessful stratagem. One of Monsieur Coligny’s band 
 took an officer attached to the Duke of Anjou, and from 
 him we have learned that the sight of that third camp, 
 and a skirmish which took place in front of it towards 
 morning, was the absolute cause of the enemy decamping 
 in such haste. But how have you fared since you went ? 
 We have taken care of you, you see, in your absence.” 
 
 “ I have fared extremely well, sir,” I replied ; “ and 
 have brought you a cornet which we took, and which 
 some one says is Martigue’s.” 
 
 “ Oh, it cannot be Martigue’s,” cried the Prince de 
 Conde. “ He would have charged to regain it, if it had 
 cost him his life.” 
 
 “ But it was not taken in the pursuit,” I said, “it was 
 taken late last night. I determined to give them an 
 alerte on their right wing, and was in their camp for 
 some minutes.” 
 
 “ Are you mad, De Cerons ? ” exclaimed the Prince de 
 Conde. “ Why, gentlemen, I thought I was the maddest 
 man in the army, and this good youth is determined to 
 outdo me, it seems. Give them an alerte, too, with less 
 than a hundred and fifty men ! Pray, how many did you 
 bring back ?” 
 
 “Every one I took, your highness,” I replied; “and 
 with but one slight wound amongst them. It seems 
 lucky that I have brought back Martigue’s cornet, or 
 I should not get credit for my tale, however simple it 
 may be.” 
 
 “ Oh, you have full credit,” replied the Prince de 
 Cond6 ; “ and I was proposing now as the only reward 
 that could be given you for your service three nights 
 ago, to arm you a knight at once; but Montgomery 
 asked me to stop a day or two.” 
 
 “May I ask why?” I demanded, turning towards 
 Montgomery, with some surprise. 
 
 “ With no ill meaning, I can assure you, Mousieur de 
 Cerons,” replied Montgomery. “ I thought if you were 
 
OB, HENKI DE CEBONS. 16£ 
 
 knighted for that exploit, the wags of the court would 
 call you the knight of the baggage-waggons.” 
 
 “ They must give him another name now, however,” 
 replied the Prince de Conde ; “ there lie the spurs ; he 
 shall have them on his heels this night, and they may 
 call him the Chevalier Alerte, if they like.” 
 
 I thanked the prince, as may easily be supposed, for 
 I imagine the time never was, and am certain it never 
 will be, when any man of honour and courage could 
 feel the touch of the sword upon his shoulder without 
 sensations of joy and redoubled energy. I thought fit, 
 in the first place, however, to let his highness know 
 upon what occasion I had so boldly entered the enemy’s 
 camp, lest the personal object that conducted me there 
 might be considered as a diminution of any honour 
 attached to the act. I accordingly gave a full account 
 of the whole transaction, which seemed, indeed, rather 
 to augment than decrease the approbation of the prince. 
 He paused and mused for some time, however, over the 
 refusal of the Baron de Blancford to seize the oppor- 
 tunity of escape. 
 
 “ It has long been reported,” he said, at length, “ that 
 the baron is wavering in his faith both to God and to 
 his fellows in arms. On my honour ! it were but right 
 to detain this fair lady as a hostage for her father’s con- 
 duct. "What say you, De CeronsF” he added, with a 
 smile : “ will you be her guardian ? ” 
 
 “I beseech your highness,” I replied, “not to think 
 of such a thing. Indeed, I proposed to ask your high- 
 ness to send a flag to the Catholic camp, to inquire 
 whether the Baron de Blancford is detained there as a 
 prisoner or not; and to demand, that, if he be not 
 there a captive, a safe-conduct may immediately be 
 granted to his daughter and his domestics, now in this 
 camp, in order that they may join him without fur- 
 ther delay. I will at the same time write to him, ex- 
 plaining the cause of his daughter’s temporary absence, 
 and I trust that your highness will not refuse me this 
 request.” 
 
 “ Certainly not, De Cerons,” replied the prince. “ But 
 
170 
 
 THE MAH' AT AEMS ; 
 
 if I do, you must not expect me to spare your good 
 cousin ; for his conduct has been most base in the whole 
 of this affair, and he must hear that we consider it 
 such.” 
 
 “ Oh, in that matter, he it as your highness pleases,’ 
 I replied ; “ I have neither wish, nor reason to wish, that 
 he should he spared; though, perhaps, my lord, there 
 may bo causes for his conduct that we do not know ” 
 
 “ So shall it be, then, De Cerons. I will give the 
 order this night. But, by my faith ! you must see to the 
 execution of it yourself, for I set out to-morrow morn- 
 ing, two hours before daylight, for Niort, where I have 
 business enough to do, in all conscience, during the five 
 or six days that I shall be absent, to wring money from 
 hard-handed usurers, and assistance from that great, 
 but stony-hearted woman, Elizabeth of England, who 
 sees right willingly the internal feuds of France, but will 
 give no aid to those whose part she pretends to espouse, 
 till they are driven to the last extremity.” 
 
 “ I had hoped, sir,” I replied, “ from what I heard 
 from good Martin Yern, the merchant, that your 
 highness was likely to obtain some supplies more 
 easily.” 
 
 “He has done somewhat, he has done somewhat,” 
 replied the prince ; “ and he deals liberally himself ; but 
 he is obliged to deal, on my part, with J ews and Lom- 
 bards innumerable, and he has now gone to Paris, with 
 but small hope of getting their bills discounted, except 
 at exorbitant interest.” 
 
 The news of Martin Yern having quitted the camp 
 without giving me any acknowledgment whatever for 
 the money he had received from me, was, as may be 
 imagined, not very satisfactory to me ; and I remained 
 musing for a moment or two, while the prince wrote the 
 order that I had demanded, and made some memoran- 
 dums in regard to what was to be done in carrying it 
 into execution. 
 
 “ Come, De Cerons,” he said in a light tone, after he 
 had done, “ you seem sad, my good friend. Kneel down 
 here. We will make a knight of you before we part, 
 
OB, HENRI DE CERONS. 171 
 
 as young knights, they say, are always gay-hearted. 
 Conde shall strike the stroke, Montgomery shall buckle 
 on the spurs, and, lo ! here comes D’Andelot, who was 
 dubbed by the hand of the great Francis himself on his 
 first field of battle, to buckle on the sword.” 
 
 Certainly it could scarcely be by hands more distin- 
 guished that the ceremonies of knighthood were per- 
 formed ; and I might well go back to my quarters with 
 a heart rejoicing in having taken a step far higher than 
 any I had previously reached in the career which I had 
 chosen for myself. Out of the small stock that remained 
 to me, I gave a hundred crowns amongst the men, as a 
 largess on my knighthood, and then immediately sought 
 the room in the farm-house where Louise had remained 
 in conversation with good old La Tour and Dame Mar- 
 guelette. Their rejoicing upon her arrival had, by this 
 time, poured itself* forth, and they now all gathered 
 round me, with the strange mixture of feelings which I 
 knew existed in their bosoms. Those mingled feelings 
 caused an odd confusion of manner, which can only be 
 understood when we recollect that the persons who now 
 surrounded me remembered me chiefly as a boy, — even 
 as a child whom they had been accustomed to direct, 
 exhort, and to control ; and that now the very same 
 people found him commanding, providing for, and pro- 
 tecting them, with a tone of independence and authority, 
 and proof of power and right, strangely opposed to all 
 their former ideas. 
 
 The old pastor, though he certainly did not look upon 
 me still as a boy, could scarcely understand how the men 
 that he saw around me came to pay such instant defer- 
 ence to my orders ; how one waited for my casque, 
 another took off my cuirass, another asked me for one 
 direction, and another sought orders on something else ; 
 and Dame Marguelette, for her part, would, I believe, 
 willingly have patted my head when the helmet was 
 taken off, and she saw again the brown curls that she 
 used to twine round her fingers in my infancy. Louise 
 alone seemed fully to look upon me as a man and a com- 
 mander ; but we must remember, that on my arm had 
 
172 
 
 THE MAK AT ABACS ; 
 
 she leant from her own childhood ; that I had not only 
 been her companion, but her counsellor and her pro- 
 tector ; and that, side by side, with my greater strength 
 and powers, she had grown up, like a violet under some 
 taller shrub, shaded, but sheltered. 
 
 I found good old La Tour thoughtful, very thought- 
 ful ; and, at the meal which ensued, I remarked that he 
 frequently laid down his knife and spoon, and fell into a 
 deep reverie. Louise, on the contrary, was bright and 
 happy, full of joy and satisfaction at being once more 
 amidst those whom she loved best, though ever since 
 the preceding night a slight shade of timidity, — timidity 
 shall I call it ? no, it was not timidity, nor exactly ten- 
 derness, perhaps, but a depth, a profundity, a feeling- 
 ness of tone, — mingled with all she said to me. Though 
 the colour in her cheek became somewhat brighter, and 
 her eye acquired a calm intensity of look when she 
 spoke to me long upon any interesting subject ; yet it 
 was evident that the change in her feelings towards 
 me was, if I may use a paradox, less complete, even 
 though greater than with the two others. She beheld 
 me with sensations which were only the expansion of 
 what had gone before ; they saw me under a point of 
 view altogether altered. I discovered the change in her 
 perhaps more by one little trait than by anything else. 
 
 With natural vanity I happened, during the meal, to 
 mention that the Prince de Conde — at that time the 
 great hero of the Protestant party — had just conferred 
 upon me the order of knighthood with his own hand. 
 Louise started up with her eyes and her cheeks all glow- 
 ing, and with a look of joy and delight that can never 
 pass from my mind. The tears of deep satisfaction were 
 almost overflowing her eyes, and the words of congratu- 
 lation were almost too much for her lips ; but she sat 
 down again immediately, and only held out her hand to 
 me. The time had been when she would have cast her 
 arms around my neck and kissed me, while she wished 
 me joy. 
 
 After supper I went round the quarters which had 
 been assigned to me, and concluded all my arrangements, 
 
173 
 
 OB) HENBI DE CEBOKS. 
 
 and Louise, fatigued as she had been during the pre- 
 ceding night and day, retired to rest soon after my 
 return. Dame Marguelette and one of the maids who 
 had been with her, slept in the same chamber, and 
 retired at the same time, and good old La Tour and 
 I were left alone. I was certainly altogether unpre- 
 pared for the conversation that was to ensue. 
 
 “ Henri,” he said, as soon as we were quite alone and 
 the door shut, “ Henri, I am anxious for you and for 
 Louise, most anxious for Louise.” And as he spoke 
 there was a sad and foreboding look about his eyes which 
 showed that the anxiety he spoke of was deeper than 
 the lips. 
 
 “Indeed!” I replied, with a thousand vague and 
 unreal fears excited in a moment ; “ and what makes 
 you so anxious, my dear friend ? why are you troubled, 
 La Tour ? I have seen, indeed, that it is so, all supper 
 time, I knew not why.” 
 
 “ O Henri,” cried the old man, “ does not your own 
 heart tell you why? do not your own feelings at this 
 moment ? ” 
 
 “ Ho, indeed, my dear sir,” I replied ; “ I have no such 
 feelings at all, no such sensations ; I know not what 
 you allude to. It might, perhaps, be wrong to bring 
 Louise away, and I would not have done it if there had 
 been any choice. But she must have explained to you 
 that it was done without my knowing it, and once done 
 impossible to take her back.” 
 
 “ It is not that at all — it is not that at all, Henri,” re- 
 plied La Tour; “it is — it is,” he continued, hesitating, 
 
 “it is that you love Louise, Henri, and that ” he 
 
 paused for a moment or two, and then added, “ it is 
 useless to conceal it ; you know it already, you guess it, 
 you see it, even if she has not acknowledged it to you 
 with her own lips ; — it is that you love Louise, Henri, and 
 that she loves you.” 
 
 I might have replied that it was quite natural that it 
 should be so ; I might have replied that we had always 
 loved each other, and that he knew it ; but I would not 
 have equivocated with that straightforward, honest, kind- 
 
174 
 
 THE MAH AT AEM3 \ 
 
 hearted old man for the world, and I therefore answered 
 him, — “ Is that the cause, my good friend, why you are 
 so grieved ? In truth, I see not why it should so grieve 
 you ; nothing can he more natural than that it should he 
 as it is. I affect not to deny that I love Louise to the 
 full extent of your meaning. Whether she love me or 
 not, though I do believe, and hope she does, I can in no 
 degree tell, for we have never spoken to each other 
 on such a theme ; hut, even taking it for granted that 
 she does, where is the terrible evil which should make 
 our best and oldest friend look sad, and evidently feel 
 pained to behold two people, to whom he has been a 
 father, indeed, love each other mutually, dearly, and 
 well?” 
 
 “It is because I love you both,” replied La Tour. 
 “ You have been frank and houest with me, Henri, and 
 your confidence shall never be ill rewarded, shall never 
 be betrayed. But, oh, my son ! how little do you yet 
 know of the world’s ways ! You may have some small 
 experience in arms ; you may divine what other men 
 learn of the military art ; but of the world, Henri, of 
 the world, you as yet know little, or you would at once 
 see what it is that grieves me in your mutual love, — 
 what it is that will render it the source of nothing but 
 misery to you both. Say, Henri, what is it that you can 
 expect, but that you should see the hand of Louise be- 
 stowed upon some other man, when her heart is yours ? 
 What is then to be the result ? ” 
 
 “ But, my dear friend,” I replied, “let me ask you in 
 return one question. Why may I not obtain that 
 hand myself?” 
 
 “ You, Henri ! you ! ” exclaimed the good pastor ; 
 “ that, indeed, is a vain imagination. Can you entertain 
 it for a moment? Do you think her father, wealthy, 
 powerful, proud, will wed her to one who has nothing 
 but his sword to depend upon, however good that sword 
 may be ? Ask yourself, is such a thing probable ? is it 
 possible ? ” 
 
 “At present, certainly not,” I replied, “ but Louise is 
 still young, quite in her youth, I have already been 
 
175 
 
 OB, HEKIil DE CEBOKS. 
 
 successful in an extraordinary degree, wliy may I not, 
 step by step, advance in the same course, till a high 
 point, both of fame and of wealth, is obtained. Why 
 may not I, though without the birth of a Conde, indeed, 
 raise myself as high as he has done, who set out in life 
 poorer even for a prince than I am for a gentleman F 
 Why may not I build up a new house, like my great an- 
 cestor, the Count de Cerons, who founded the noble house 
 to which I belong, with nothing but his sword ? ” 
 
 “ True, he did so,” replied La Tour, “ and you may do 
 the same ; but recollect, Henri, that your grandfather 
 alienated the estates and barony of Elancford to a 
 younger brother, to support the cause for which he 
 fought ; that your father did the same, and that the 
 trade of war, like every other trade, is now great gain, 
 and now heavy loss, but with this difference, that acci- 
 dent in war mingles in a tenfold proportion. Remember 
 that here is a game in which there is always an impor- 
 tant and heavy chance against the player. But, grant- 
 ing that fortune favours you to the utmost and to the 
 end ; that you acquire wealth, honour, and distinction ; 
 granting too — which may well be granted — that Louise 
 would willingly wait till all this was accomplished, think 
 you that her father will wait ? think you that he will 
 patiently reserve his daughter for one towards whom he 
 cannot help feeling respect and esteem, but for whom he 
 has shown no great affection throughout the whole 
 course of his life ? Can you say, Henri — to put it in 
 one word — can you say that he will not, to-morrow, pro- 
 mise the hand of Louise to another ? Can you be sure 
 that he has not already promised it ? ” 
 
 There was something in the old man’s manner which 
 seemed to imply more than his words expressed; and, 
 determined to come to the point at once, I rose, and took 
 his hand in mine. 
 
 “ What is it you mean, La Tour ? ” I said. “ There is 
 something you would warn me of; there is something 
 upon your mind. Speak out— speak plainly. We have 
 always been honest and true towards each other j let us 
 be so, I beseech you, still,” 
 
176 
 
 THE MAH AT ABM S ; 
 
 “ There is no reason why I should not be so towards 
 you,’’ replied La Tour; “no pledge has been extorted 
 from me, no promise of secrecy has ever been asked. 
 The baron, then, does destine Louise’s hand to another. 
 He has even, I believe, promised it.” 
 
 His words fell like drops of molten fire upon my heart ; 
 they were agony to me ; they were beyond all agony I 
 had ever felt before. “ To whom ?” I said, “ to whom ?” 
 “ To the Seigneur de Blaye,” replied the good clergy- 
 man ; “ a Catholic, a persecutor, an enemy of the faith 
 that we ourselves profess, but wealthy, powerful, hand- 
 some, brave, nobly connected ” 
 
 I stamped my foot angrily upon the ground, exclaim- 
 ing, “A libertine, a debauchee, a sot, and a fool ! ” 
 
 “ Indeed ! ” exclaimed the clergyman. “But how do 
 you know all this, Henri de Cerons ? Let not jealousy, 
 my son, ever tempt you to take away the reputation of 
 another ; there is a great commandment against it. How 
 can you know all this, I demand, Henri ? ” 
 
 “ Because,” I replied, “ he was my prisoner and my 
 guest for several days; and during that time he lived a 
 life of folly, intemperance, and vice, which would have 
 shamed the lowest debauchee in the most corrupt capital 
 of Europe.” 
 
 “ Alas ! alas ! ” said the old clergyman, “ you now do 
 make me tenfold unhappy, indeed, Henri. I know you 
 would not pervert the truth on any account, and yet I 
 would fain believe that this terrible tale might be 
 untrue.” 
 
 “ It is as true as I live ! ” I replied, vehemently. 
 “ Does Louise herself know of this proposed marriage ? 
 Has she ever seen the man they seek to make her wed ? ” 
 “Never,” replied La Tour; “nor does she know 
 aught of it. He is distantly related to the baroness. 
 She, doubtless, has managed the whole, and all I know 
 is, that on the application of this young lord, the baron 
 replied, that his daughter was still too young to wed, 
 or even to think of marriage. What more he added 
 I know not ; but I understood that expectations, if not 
 promises, were given.” 
 
177 
 
 OB, HENBI DE CEBONS. 
 
 “ They are promises that shall never be fulfilled ! ” I 
 replied, seating myself more calmly at the table. “ He 
 shall never marry Louise de Blancford, were he as 
 wealthy as an Indian king!” 
 
 “ How so ? ” demanded the good pastor. “ Think 
 what you say, my son, think what you say. What 
 should stay him, Henri de Cerons ? ” 
 
 “ This right hand,” I replied, pressing it firmly on 
 the table ; “ and now, my good father, in this business I 
 must act without control. Willingly will I ask your 
 advice, willingly will I listen to your counsels, but I 
 must determine upon the results myself; and remem- 
 ber, in anything that passes between us on this subject, 
 or anything connected therewith, as a friend, as a pre- 
 ceptor, as a monitor, I expect and shall receive your 
 assistance, whenever it agrees with your own views of 
 right and wrong to give it, and as a Christian pastor 
 and an honest man, I expect the most profound secrecy 
 in all things. I know that with you I shall have no 
 double-dealing or prevarication — no pious frauds, as I 
 might expect amongst the priests of our enemies and 
 persecutors.” 
 
 “ But what do you propose to do, Henri ? ” demanded 
 the pastor. “ What am I to suppose are your inten- 
 tions ? ” 
 
 “ I know not as yet, good friend,” I replied, “ and I 
 even now hesitate whether to tell Louise at once what 
 are my changed feelings towards her, and to ascertain 
 what are her feelings towards me, or to leave matters to 
 take their course.” 
 
 “ Nor know I well what to advise my son,” replied 
 La Tour. “ It is woful and terrible to think that one 
 so beautiful, so pure, so innocent, should be forced to 
 wed one of a different creed, who in the very first 
 instance will, doubtless, pervert, or try to pervert, her 
 religious principles, and then, perhaps, the purity of 
 her mind ; who will ultimately neglect, abandon, per- 
 haps ill-treat her, and who will never, can never, make 
 her happy. It is a sad fate, De Cerons, a sad and 
 terrible fate, especially for one who loves another.” 
 
 12 
 
178 
 
 THE MAN AT AEMS ; 
 
 “ Can I feel certain that she loves me?” I said, more 
 musing than questioning the good man. 
 
 “ Enough to make her unhappy with another, am I 
 very sure/’ replied La Tour, “ and that is one reason, 
 Henri, why I am almost inclined to counsel you to 
 speak with her on the subject of your mutual affection. 
 She may feel it deeply that she loves you ; but she may 
 not discover how much till she has become the bride of 
 another. I, of course, can never counsel her to disobey 
 the commands of her father, unless I were to see, beyond 
 all doubt and casuistry, that her soul’s salvation was 
 endangered by it ; but I think there might be a safe- 
 guard in knowing her own feelings and yours towards 
 her, which might guide her rightly even where I dare 
 not counsel, and you scarcely dare act — I know not, 
 Henri — yet I know not.” 
 
 “ I will think of it, my good friend,” I replied, “ I will 
 think of it often during the night, and I will endeavour, 
 as far as possible, to cast by every selfish consideration ; 
 so, fare you well for this evening, for I have duties that 
 call upon me.” 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 I passed the most anxious and most restless night that 
 I ever yet had known in life ; new feelings had got pos- 
 session of my heart, strong, violent, irresistible ; and 
 thoughtful, watchful, unreposing, my mind remained 
 active, with many bitter and painful images, and with 
 many wild and anxious thoughts. My determination, 
 however, was taken ere I rose upon the following 
 morning, nor was it taken without full consideration of 
 the circumstances under which I was to act. Had my 
 cousin’s conduct towards me, I asked myself, been such 
 as to lay me under any bond of gratitude or tie of 
 honour, to sacrifice calmly all my own hopes of happi- 
 ness in life, while at the same time I saw sacrificed tka 
 
179 
 
 OR, HEtfRI EE CEKOFS. 
 
 peace, the comfort, the temporal, perhaps the eternal, 
 repose of the being I most loved on all the earth F 
 
 The answer was plain and straightforward ; there was 
 no such tie : and then again I thought of the baroness, 
 — not the second wife, but the first, — of her who had 
 been a mother to me — more than a mother, and I asked 
 myself, how all that I owed to her ought to affect my 
 conduct towards her child P That, too, was soon deter- 
 mined. I felt a consciousness that I could make Louise 
 happy, that I could secure her peace and comfort ; and 
 that, if fortune were but added, there could be no 
 danger or difficulty, no pain or anxiety within the 
 common range of probabilities that I could not guard 
 her from and protect her against. 
 
 Was there anything, therefore, in the deep feelings 
 of gratitude and love which I experienced towards the 
 dead, which should forbid my making the attempt so to 
 protect and shield the child of her who had conferred so 
 many benefits upon me? Was it not rather what I 
 owed her, to endeavour, as far as Heaven gave me 
 power, to prevent my poor Louise from being driven 
 into a union with one who could only make her 
 wretched, — the pure tied to the impure, the innocent 
 to the corrupt ? The answer was — Yes ! 
 
 IN’ o one can say when he argues with his own heart 
 on a question where all its deepest feelings are in- 
 terested, — no one can say that simple, straightforward 
 reason alone dictates the reply; nor can I say that it 
 was so in the present instance. But still I had done 
 my best to make it so. I believed that I was right g 
 I believed that there could scarcely be any further 
 question of what my conduct ought to be, and I deter- 
 mined, therefore, to tell Louise of how I loved her, — 
 to inform her of my hopes and wishes for the future, 
 not indeed to bind her by any promises, but to open 
 her eyes, and to satisfy myself as to the feelings of her 
 own heart, and then to leave her native strength of mind, 
 her resolution and her love, to do the rest. 
 
 With this determination I rose at daybreak on the 
 following morning. It was a clear, bright, cheerful day, 
 
180 
 
 THE MAH AT ABMS ; 
 
 and on my going my early rounds I found the soldier 
 charged to hear the flag of truce, and letter from the 
 Prince of Conde to the Duke of Anjou, waiting for my 
 further orders, I instantly sat down and wrote the 
 epistle, which I had promised to the Baron de Blanc- 
 ford, explaining, in a few and brief words, what had hap- 
 pened in regard to Louise, expressing my grief that she 
 had been subjected to some inconvenience and fatigue, 
 but offering no excuse or apology whatever for an event 
 which I did not think required any. 
 
 Having done this, and despatched the messenger, I 
 next made some inquiries concerning the state of the 
 army, as I perceived that a large body of troops were 
 moving to the left from the spot which had been 
 assigned to us for our quarters, leaving only five or 
 six hundred men in the hamlet. I now found that the 
 troops I saw marching were destined to take up their 
 quarters near Loudun, in order to strengthen the centre 
 of the position, as a violent fever had broken out 
 amongst the troops from Provence, which had occa- 
 sioned a mortality of nearly two thousand men within 
 a few days. 
 
 Our little hamlet was now comparatively deserted; 
 a number of the officers had gone to Niort, with the 
 Prince de Conde, and, though Montgomery remained 
 in the command, he was the only man of any conse- 
 quence left. 
 
 After occupying myself with various military avoca- 
 tions, I returned, and found the rest of my little house- 
 hold up, and waiting for me. Good old La Tour looked 
 at me with grave and thoughtful eyes, but Louise had 
 risen refreshed, and beautiful as the morning; and, 
 had there been any doubt or irresolution remaining in 
 my mind, I do not believe that it could have resisted 
 those bright looks. There was no irresolution, how- 
 ever, and immediately after our morning meal was over, 
 I said, — 
 
 “ Come, Louise, the day is most beautiful ; good 
 Marguelette, here, will doubtless find you some better 
 head-gear than that you travelled with through that 
 
181 
 
 OB, HENRI HE CERONS. 
 
 terrible cold night, and I will take you round the camp, 
 to let you see more of the military world than perhaps 
 you have ever seen yet.” 
 
 Marguelette assured me that almost all the young 
 lady’s wardrobe was within reach ; for that the baron 
 had gone off so hastily he had taken little enough for 
 the journey with him. Louise, therefore, was soon 
 r quipped for her ramble ; and, leaning fondly on my 
 arm, she went forth walking with me from post to post 
 for about half an hour. 
 
 Not knowing what was in my heart, she might well 
 wonder at the fits of silent thoughtfulness into which I 
 fell, and, beginning to think that all went not with me 
 as I could wish, she asked, in the sweetest and ten- 
 derest tones of her sweet and tender voice, what made 
 me so sad, and why I did not tell “my own Louise.” 
 I replied that I would tell her presently, and walking 
 forth out of the hamlet, I led her past the old manoir, 
 where the Prince de Conde had made his abode for a 
 time, up the slope of the hill, to a little wood of tall 
 fir-trees, whose evergreen tops spread out till they met 
 each other, although the bolls below, which were far 
 apart, suffered the clear rays of the low wintry sun to 
 stream in over the red and yellow leaves which had 
 fallen from the branches above, and thickly strewed 
 the ground. The day, indeed, was as bright as sum- 
 mer, and it was cheerful and refreshing, too ; but there 
 was something which told that it was not summer, 
 something in the aspect of the whole scene which gave 
 a shade of thoughtfulness, if I may so call it, even to 
 the brightness of the morning. The blades of grass 
 upon the sides of the hill were all shining as if they 
 had been hung with gems; but, as with the blaze 
 of light upon many another gem, one saw and felt that 
 the sunshine fell upon nothing but frost-work, and that 
 everything was cold and frozen underneath. There 
 was now no fog upon the ground, and through the 
 clear calm air the church of Loudun and various other 
 buildings in that small town were seen rising up in 
 the distance, and we paused, and gazed over the scene 
 
182 THE MAN AT ARMS ; 
 
 around, without one sound breaking the wintry silence 
 of nature. 
 
 “How far is it to that town?” demanded Louise, 
 after gazing for some time. 
 
 “ Nearly five miles, dear one,” I replied. 
 
 “ How near it looks ! ” she said: “I shouldn’t have 
 thought that it were two.” 
 
 “ It looks so, dear Louise,” I replied, “ from the clear- 
 ness of the wintry air; and so it is, Louise,” I said, 
 “ with future as with distant things. To the calm, cold 
 icy eye of experience and reason, the remote and distant 
 times, the five or six years hence, look as near as if we 
 could touch them ; the space between dwindles down to 
 nothing, and the rest of life seems but as a moment ; 
 while, in the warm and sunny days of youth, the airy 
 mist of passion, of fancy, and of expectation, throws 
 every future thing far, far away, and the five or six 
 years that may lie between us and happiness seem a long 
 age of wearisome expectation.” 
 
 She looked up in my face and smiled, saying, “I 
 suppose it is so, Henri. I know that since you have 
 gone away from Elancford, in thinking when I might 
 probably see you again, the space has seemed inter- 
 minable.” 
 
 “ And now that we have met again, Louise,” I said, 
 “ we are to part in a few short hours — to part, when to 
 meet again ? ” 
 
 She gazed down upon the ground, and sighed deeply, 
 and I added, “ You know, Louise, the messenger has 
 gone to the Duke of Anjou’s camp, to demand a safe- 
 conduct for you and the rest to join your father ? ” 
 
 “ So Marguelette told me,” she replied. “ Oh, I hope 
 he will not return immediately.” 
 
 “It will seem as but a moment to us, dear Louise,” 
 I replied, “ but as a short moment, and then you will 
 leave me, and it may be years before we meet again, and 
 perhaps by that time, Louise,” — my voice trembled, I 
 believe, very much, as I spoke, “ and perhaps by that 
 time you may be the bride of another.” 
 
 Louise started and dropped her hold of my arm, and 
 
183 
 
 OB, HENRI HE CERONS. 
 
 gazed up in my face with eager and intense looks, as if 
 she had been wakened from some sweet dream by the 
 horrible images that suddenly came across it. 
 
 “ Oh, no !” she cried, somewhat reproachfully. “ No, 
 Henri, — no — no.” Her voice dropped as she slowly pro- 
 nounced the words, and she fell into a fit of musing. 
 
 “ Louise,” I said, after having given her some time for 
 thought, “ do you know how I love you ? ” 
 
 “ Oh, yes, Henri,” she replied, looking up still very 
 pale, “ I know you love me.” 
 
 “ But do you know how well I love you, Louise ? ” I 
 demanded. “ Do you know that I love you doubly, that 
 I have loved you twice ? ” 
 
 “ Twice ! ” she said, musing. “ That is strange, Henri. 
 I think I know what you mean, too — and yet it is 
 strange.” 
 
 “ Scarcely strange, dearest,” I answered, “ scarcely 
 strange. You know I loved you well before I quitted 
 Blancford, dearly, most dearly, Louise. But I love you 
 differently now, better, more dearly, more warmly, more 
 tenderly.” 
 
 I heard her breath come very thick as I spoke, and 
 she leaned her hand upon my arm, still looking down, 
 and saying, as if for the first time scanning her own 
 feeling, “ Differently — oh yes — and I love you differently, 
 too.” 
 
 I threw my arm around her, and pressed her to my 
 bosom, saying, “ Thank you, thank you, dearest Louise, 
 for that word. Yet tell me, oh ! tell me, what it is you 
 feel towards me.” 
 
 “I cannot,” she said, pressing her glowing forehead 
 against my breast ; “ I cannot tell you, Henri ; I scarcely 
 know myself. I feel strangely, very strangely ; but it 
 seems as if to part with you again were the most terrible 
 thing that could befal me.” 
 
 Again I pressed her gently to my heart. 
 
 “Sit down here, Louise,” I said, “on these dry frag- 
 ments of the fir-trees, and let us speak more calmly. 
 Look here, dear girl ! This sword that you see, is the 
 sole inheritance of him who loves you better than life* 
 
184 
 
 THE MAH AT AKMS $ 
 
 Already, however, that sword has raised him to some 
 renown, and won him some wealth : on it he trusts for 
 more, he trusts to win with it higher rank and station, 
 fortune sufficient for a moderate ambition, and a right 
 to demand the hand of her he loves. That, that, Louise, 
 is the end and object of all my endeavours ; that is the 
 hope that animates me and will carry me on to great- 
 ness if I am permitted to indulge it ; it is that hope 
 which has made me what I now am ; it is that hope 
 which will make my efforts far greater : it is for your 
 love, Louise, that I strive ; it is that you may be mine 
 entirely, heart of my heart, and soul of my soul, that my 
 arms may be your resting-place for life, and that no one 
 may ever, ever tear you from my bosom. Oh, tell me, 
 dear Louise ; give me that one bright consolation, that 
 one surpassing motive for every kind of exertion ; tell 
 me, tell me, does the change which you admit has taken 
 place in your feelings towards me, does it tend to the 
 same as my own wishes ? does it make you feel that you 
 could be happy as mine — not as a sister, but as a bride 
 — not as a mere companion, but as the one united to me 
 for life, and through life, by every link of love in one, 
 being the sister, the companion, the friend, the wife ? 
 Oh, tell me, Louise, tell me. Is it so ? Does the change 
 in your feelings towards me speak to your own heart, 
 and say that you can love me with such love, ardent, 
 deep, intense, passionate as my own ? ” 
 
 Louise did not answer, she could not answer for some 
 time, for the tears were rolling over her cheeks, the 
 tears of strong emotion; but her hand was clasped 
 in mine ; her head leaned upon my shoulder, the 
 cheek burned, the eyes were bent down, and the lip 
 quivered. There was not a sign of all the many which 
 her demeanour gave that could teach me anything but 
 hope; and yet I was impatient to hear more. I re- 
 peated my question in a different form; I kissed her 
 cheek ; again and again I urged her to speak. It was 
 long ere she did so, however ; till at length, looking 
 up at me, she said, almost reproachfully, “ O Henri, 
 Henri, you know, you feel, you are aware, well aware, 
 
185 
 
 OB, HENRI DE CERON3. 
 
 that I love you as deeply, truly, fully, as woman 
 can love any man ; that had I my will, I would never 
 part with you, I would never leave you. What can I 
 say more ? ” 
 
 “Nothing, dearest, nothing,” I replied, “you have 
 said enough ; you have made me happy, most happy ; 
 happier than I almost ever fancied I should be. And 
 yet much remains, dear Louise, before we can he fully 
 happy together. I have to use every energy and every 
 exertion, to place myself in such a situation that I may 
 rightly and wisely ask your hand. You, Louise, may 
 have fully as much to do on your part. Ere you can 
 be mine, they will press you to give your hand to others, 
 
 • — they will command you, they will urge you ” 
 
 “ Never, never ! ” cried Louise, eagerly ; “ I will never 
 hear them, I will never listen to them for a moment ; 
 
 from this instant, Henri, I am yours, and I promise ” 
 
 “Nay, nay, dear Louise,” I said; “let me not bind 
 you by any promise ; that I have, as yet, no right to do.” 
 “ You bind me by no promise, Henri,” she said, “ but 
 I bind myself. I will never listen to such a thing even 
 for a moment : so let not that trouble your repose at 
 any time. Believe nothing that you hear of the kind ; 
 doubt not, fear not, dear Henri. I am yours, and none 
 but yours ; when first you began to speak just now, and 
 said you might perhaps find me the bride of another, 
 though I had not thought of all this as I now have, yet 
 I felt that it could never be so, and that never, never 
 would you find me the wife of any one.” 
 
 - We spoke longer upon the same theme, we dwelt upon 
 our thoughts and feelings; agitation and emotion and 
 timidity in some degree passed away from Louise’s 
 mind, and gradually she let me see more and more 
 
 - deeply into the recesses of her heart, and made me at 
 each instant happier by showing that I was beloved as 
 fully and deeply as I could wish. We lingered for a 
 considerable time under those fir-trees, and again we 
 walked down the hill to the hamlet, but turned before 
 we reached the camp, and walked some way further 
 round, and lingered still and turned again, and more 
 
186 
 
 THE MAH AT ABMS ; 
 
 than once hesitated, and paused, and spoke a few fond 
 words more before we went back to that world between 
 which and ourselves there was now drawn a thin and 
 filmy screen perceptible to none but ourselves, but yet 
 sufficient to be a perfect separation. It seemed as if 
 love was now at home in our mutual bosoms, and the 
 casements of the heart were closed. 
 
 Good La Tour was for a time our only confidant, if 
 I may so call it ; for in the evening he questioned me 
 closely as soon as he found an opportunity, and I told 
 him at once that I had spoken with Louise upon the 
 subject of my love, and with joy unutterable I had found 
 it was returned. I further added, that I had bound her 
 by no promise, that she was free from all but such en- 
 gagements as her own heart imposed upon her, but that 
 now to obtain her was the end and object of my exist- 
 ence, and that to him I trusted at least to throw some 
 impediment in the way of a union where misery was 
 the only fortune that she could expect. 
 
 He said, in reply, that he could scarcely blame me for 
 what I had done ; he could scarcely approve either, he 
 said ; for there were so many contending considerations 
 that he saw not which was the most fit plan to be 
 adopted. In short, it was evident to me, that the good 
 man’s sense of what was right towards Louise and to- 
 wards myself, were struggling against ideas precon- 
 ceived, of what was right to the baron as a father. He 
 saw to what the baron’s own conduct had led ; to what 
 consequences fatal to his own peace, and to the happiness 
 of his family ; and he evidently doubted the father’s 
 power and inclination to conduct his child to happiness 
 and to peace ; but still he dared not deny his right to 
 direct her. 
 
 The conversation was luckily soon terminated by the 
 entrance of other persons ; and the two days that fol- 
 lowed passed without any material discussion between 
 La Tour and myself, of the subject that was uppermost 
 in both our thoughts. With Louise those days passed 
 in joy, mingled with that kind of gentle sadness, which 
 the knowledge that our hours of happiness were destined 
 
187 
 
 OB, HENEI DE CEEONS. 
 
 to be few, was well calculated to produce. Each of us 
 felt drawn more and more closely towards each other, as 
 the moments grew few that we were to be together ; the 
 knowledge that we must soon part but increased the 
 desire to remain ; and gave at once delight and anxiety to 
 our short communion. 
 
 At length, however, the messenger arrived with the 
 safe-conduct ; there was no further time to be gained ; 
 the period of Louise’s departure for the camp of the 
 Duke of Anjou was fixed for the following morning 
 early ; and but a few hours remained, ere we were to 
 be parted for an indefinite length of time. It wanted 
 but such a state and such a prospect to bring forth all 
 Louise’s deep and fervid feelings. Her affection, her 
 love, were no longer concealed ; were no longer veiled 
 under any show of reserve. She wept at the thought of 
 parting from me long and sadly ; she felt it more diffi- 
 cult to bear than she had anticipated ; and the only 
 thing that seemed to comfort her was a promise, that, 
 by writing sometimes to her, and frequently to La Tour, 
 I would give her continual tidings of my proceedings, 
 and of my well-being. We passed a long evening, which, 
 as our days of pleasure had been mingled with pain, 
 now gave us hours of pain, not unmingled with pleasure. 
 
 At length the time came for her departure, and I 
 mounted with a small body of my men, to escort her till 
 we were met by the party appointed to receive her. 
 La Tour, Marguelette, and the rest of the old servants, 
 with the baggage, and all the other things they had 
 brought, followed in our train, and we rode slowly on ; 
 calmer, indeed, than we were the night before, but still 
 sad. We talked, however, of the joy we had in meeting ; 
 of the happy days we had spent together ; and we spoke 
 of hopes and pleasures for future years, even while fears 
 mingled with the hopes ; and dark images of pain crossed 
 the bright visions that we were inclined to indulge. 
 
 Thus we rode on, making the way which, if our 
 wishes could have had effect, would have been intermi- 
 nable, far shorter than it might otherwise have seemed ; 
 and, at length, before I thought that we could have gone 
 
188 
 
 THE MAN AT ABMS \ 
 
 above a quarter of the way, we saw upon the opposite 
 slope of the valley that we were crossing, a considerable 
 body of horsemen, bearing, like ourselves, a white flag 
 in the midst of them. They halted as soon as they saw 
 us, and halting my men likewise, I rode forward alone, 
 to make sure that we were right. The moment that this 
 was perceived, two gentlemen came forth from the other 
 party ; the one a man pretty well advanced in years, and 
 the other apparently a youth, whom, as he rode down the 
 hill, I naturally enough concluded to be Alfred de Blanc- 
 ford, Louise’s brother. I soon perceived that I was mis- 
 taken, however ; it was a young man whom I had seen 
 once before, but where, I could not recollect. The elder 
 of the horsemen I had never till then beheld ; but from 
 his dress and demeanour, he was evidently a person of 
 high distinction ; and when we met at the bottom of the 
 valley, he saluted me with much courtesy ; inquiring if 
 I were the Seigneur de Cerons, and had escorted thither 
 Mademoiselle de Blancford. I replied that such was the 
 case, and begged to know if he was empowered to re- 
 ceive her from my hands ; inquiring, at the same time, 
 to whom I had the honour of speaking. 
 
 “ My name,” he said, “ is Montpensier ; and in the 
 absence of the Duke of Anjou, I am commander-in-chief 
 of the army, with which the Baron de Blancford sojourns 
 at this moment. I took upon myself the task of meeting 
 Mademoiselle de Blancford for various reasons, but for 
 one especially. This young gentleman is my son, Mon- 
 sieur de Cerons. You have, I think, seen him before.” 
 
 “I remember him perfectly, monseigneur,” I replied; 
 “ but where I had the honour of seeing his face last, I 
 cannot recollect.” 
 
 “ Under your horse’s feet, I rather suspect, Monsieur 
 de Cerons,” replied the young gentleman, with a grace- 
 ful inclination of the head. “ My visor flew up, as that 
 vile brute I was riding stumbled and fell with me.” 
 
 “Oh! I remember you well,” I replied at once. 
 “ You are the young gentleman who made so gallant a 
 charge against us when we were pursuing, the other 
 day. I rather imagine you would have given me some 
 
OK, HENBI DE CEBOm 189 
 
 trouble,’* I continued, smiling, “ if your horse had not 
 fallen with you.’ 1 
 
 The young man coloured with pleasure, and the duke 
 replied for him. “ You speak too flatteringly, Monsieur 
 de Cerons ; but he is a brave boy, too ; and he told me, 
 the moment he came back, what had occurred, and how 
 generously you had behaved to him, for which we both 
 offer you our best thanks.” 
 
 “ God forbid, sir,” I said, “that I should strike one 
 blow at a gallant young gentleman when he is down.” 
 
 “But,” said the duke, “you might have made him 
 prisoner, and his ransom would have been no slight sum. 
 We cannot, therefore, thus rest your debtors, Monsieur 
 de Cerons, and I brought him here this day, that we 
 might both acquit ourselves to you of that which we 
 owe you.” 
 
 “ You are both more than acquitted already, my lord,” 
 I replied. “ The thanks which you have been pleased 
 to give me are sufficient recompense ; and, let it be 
 remembered always, that this young gentleman neither 
 surrendered nor demanded quarter, that what was done 
 was my own free doing ; and, perhaps, the time may 
 come, on some future day, when the little kindness I 
 showed may be returned by some other. Will you allow 
 me,” I added, to change the subject, “ to inquire whether 
 any of the relations of Mademoiselle de Blancford are 
 with your company above ? ” 
 
 “ No,” replied the duke. “ The truth is, Monsieur de 
 Cerons, that the Baron de Blancford has been somewhat 
 enraged by a letter from the Prince de Conde to the 
 Duke of Anjou respecting him, and by one which, I 
 understand, you wrote to him yourself. I, therefore, 
 undertook the task of meeting you here, to prevent any 
 unpleasant collision. I wished his two sons to have 
 accompanied me, but he replied, that, if he did not go 
 himself, none of his family should go. But I have full 
 authority to receive the young lady, you may believe 
 me.” 
 
 “ I doubt it not in the least, my lord,” I replied, “ but 
 I was in hopes that the two boys were there, who have 
 
190 
 
 THE MAH AT ARMS ; 
 
 been brought up beside me from their infancy, but whom 
 I have not seen for many months. However, Mademoi- 
 selle de Blancford shall be delivered into your hands 
 immediately, and I pray you to do your best to induce 
 her father to look differently upon my letter, and to 
 believe that, when I gave you the little alerte the other 
 night, my only view was to rescue him, if, as I suspected, 
 he was detained a prisoner.” 
 
 “ What, then, it was you,” said the duke, “ who 
 roused us in such a manner, and who carried off one of 
 the cornets. Take care how you come in the way of 
 Martigue, Monsieur de Cerons, for he has not forgotten 
 the loss of that cornet.” 
 
 “ I will treat it with all honour and distinction, my 
 lord,” I replied, smiling: “ I will carry it with me into 
 the very next field where I am likely to meet your army, 
 and there Monsieur de Martigue may retake it, if he 
 have the will and the power.” 
 
 “ I will tell him so, I will tell him so,” replied the 
 duke. “ We shall have the days of chivalry revived 
 again. But we must w r aste no more daylight, Monsieur 
 de Cerons, for we shall but have light enough to get 
 back to the camp.” 
 
 At this hint I immediately went back ; and, telling 
 Louise who it was that had come to meet her, I dis- 
 mounted from my horse, and led her forward by the 
 bridle rein. Grood old La Tour and the rest followed at 
 a little distance, giving us an opportunity of passing 
 those few' last moments alone. We said nothing, how- 
 ever, as we advanced. Her hand rested, for a moment, 
 in mine ; our eyes looked long and speakingly into each 
 other’s ; and thus we went on, till we approached the 
 Duke of Montpensier, who, dismounting also, took a 
 step forward to meet his fair charge. He asked her 
 some courteous question, of no great import, as he 
 approached, but Louise could not answer; her voice 
 was choked, her eyes were full of tears. The duke 
 looked to me, as if for an explanation. I had none to 
 give, and felt that the best way was to withdraw as soon 
 as possible. 
 
191 
 
 OB, HENRI HE CERONS. 
 
 “ Louise,” I said, approaching as close as I could, and 
 speaking in a low voice, “ Louise, my beloved, adieu ! 
 God be with you, and protect you, and give you courage, 
 and give you strength.” 
 
 Louise bent down over her jennet, let her arm drop 
 over mine, and her weeping eyes fell upon my shoulder. 
 After a moment, she made an effort, and raised her 
 head, saying, “ Adieu, Henri, adieu!” 
 
 As she did so, our lips met, and, turning hastily away, 
 I quitted a scene that was becoming too much for me, 
 in every respect. Ere I had taken ten steps, however, 
 some one touched me on the arm. It was the young 
 Prince de la Eoche, the Duke of Montpensier’s son, who 
 held out his hand to me, and grasped mine, saying, (< ¥e 
 shall meet again, Monsieur de Cerons, we shall meet 
 again.” 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 It may well be conceived that the first few miles of 
 my return were passed by me without any particular 
 observation of the objects around. Moric Endem was 
 not with me, to call my attention to this thing or that, 
 and to inspire me with the same remarking and com- 
 menting spirit as himself; and busy with the thoughts 
 and feelings of my own bosom, I saw, perhaps, the 
 things that I passed with the mere corporeal eye, but, 
 if I did so, the communication between the organ of 
 sight and the reasoning brain was altogether cut off for 
 the time. 
 
 Thus for about five miles I rode on, 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 
 
192 
 
 THE MAN AT ABMS ; 
 
 distance, and riding quickly on 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 consider- 
 able body of men, perhaps three or four thousand, 
 winding along at the distance of fully four miles. They 
 were marching on 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 should instantly have 
 endeavoured to cut off some stragglers from their rear, 
 in order to ascertain what was their object and destina- 
 tion, 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 changes that had taken place, 
 and found indications of the army moving by detach- 
 ments towards the Loire. Montgomery I could not 
 find, though I sent messengers seeking for him in dif- 
 ferent 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 plenty, 
 and if there was a possibility of seeing after nightfall, to 
 beat up the enemy’s quarters, and endeavour to gain 
 some information. 
 
 Giving order 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. 
 
193 
 
 OR, HEKRI EE CERONS. 
 
 “They are on foot again, are they?” he said, after 
 thinking over the whole for a few minutes. “ Thej 
 must have got information that De Pile is moving up 
 from Guyenne, with our reinforcements, 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 
 Duke of Deux Ponts, or Zweibrucken, as his own people 
 call him, and that were worse than missing De 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 P” 
 
 Of course I was glad to have 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. Prom him I gained a more thorough know- 
 ledge, too, than I had hitherto acquired, of all the exist- 
 ing places and circumstances of the Protestant leaders. 
 Their forces had been so greatly weakened by the sick- 
 ness which prevailed in Loudun, that reinforcements 
 were absolutely necessary to enable them to keep the 
 field against the Catholics. 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 Deux Ponts, was marching rapidly towards the 
 Loire, in order to join the Protestant army. 
 
 In the meantime, the Catholics had been reinforced by 
 large bodies of troops from every part of Prance, and 
 were eager to fight the Protestants before either 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 
 
 13 
 
194 
 
 THE MAN AT ASMS; 
 
 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 in order to facilitate the junction 
 of the Germans. 
 
 “ I trust,” said Montgomery, “ that the prince will 
 decide upon maintaining the Charente, in preference to 
 anything else. 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 once 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 explana- 
 tion, “ 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 further intelligence if possible ; 
 and in the meantime were it not better to send off at 
 once a messenger to the prince and the admiral to tell 
 them what has been already observed, and 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 pro- 
 posed, towards the village 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, who had been driven out 
 of their village by the enemy, on account of adhering to 
 the Protestant faith, and who thought themselves not 
 a little fortunate in having escaped with only a few 
 strokes from the staff of a lance to make them give up 
 their dwellings the 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, 
 
195 
 
 OB, HENBI DE CEBONS. 
 
 I bent my way thither, guided by one of the young 
 labourers. 
 
 Before we came near, I caused my men either to strip 
 off their white cassocks, 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 o 1 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 arquebuse. This did not scare us ; 
 but, as had been arranged before, while the arquebusiers 
 remained drawn up in line to support us, I dismounted 
 with my men at arms, and rushed forward to attack the 
 house. M'oric 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 on 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 afterwards, for 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 pro- 
 gress 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 sur- 
 render, 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 
 
196 
 
 THE MAN AT AEMS : 
 
 which I doubted not would give us full information re- 
 specting 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 which 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 from 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 accus- 
 tomed 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 from which I had first seen them on the pre- 
 ceding morning. There, perceiving by a strong glare, 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 further than the shoulder of the 
 heights, whence I could see the village which we had 
 
197 
 
 OK, HENKI DE CEKOKS. 
 
 attacked, and to my surprise, beheld it all in flames. 
 How it happened I do not know ; our people were 
 themselves inclined to believe that the Catholics had set 
 it on fire in their indignation at the peasants having 
 guided us thither ; but this opinion was evidently 
 founded upon party animosity, and I myself feel sure 
 that, in the confusion attending our attack upon the 
 farm-house, some light must accidentally have fallen and 
 set fire to the building. 
 
 Hurrying on as fast as possible, we reached my quar- 
 ters 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 con- 
 ducted 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 ; and, on entering my 
 room, I found him standing shivering by the fire. I ap- 
 proached 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 super- 
 ciliously, from head to foot, and sticking out from under 
 his furred dressing-gown a bare leg and 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 off 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 swal- 
 low 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 sup- 
 pose, the commander.” 
 
198 
 
 THE MAN AT AEMS ; 
 
 u 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 cele- 
 brated Count de la Biviere PuitaiUe. The young gentle- 
 man whom I had taken proved to be one of the gay 
 gallants of the Court, called Gersay, and my only con- 
 solation for having missed the commander was the pro- 
 spect 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 meantime, the absence of the prince at Niort, 
 though absolutely necessary in order to obtain money 
 and to treat with the Queen of England, was sadly detri- 
 mental to our military prospects. 
 
 Before full information of all that we had discovered 
 could be conveyed to the Prince de Conde, and before 
 the troops could be recalled from their movements 
 towards the Loire, or others marched to defend Jarnac, 
 La Biviere 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 ex- 
 cursions on every side. 
 
199 
 
 OB, RENRI RE CEROKS. 
 
 The burning of the village, 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 burnt therein ; and on the first 
 expedition which La Riviere entrusted to him he vowed 
 he would retaliate upon the Protestants. He accord- 
 ingly 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 designedly, we were assured, 
 set fire to the place, and burnt them to death therein. 
 
 An awful retribution fell upon him. As soon as a 
 sufficient force could be collected, the admiral com- 
 manded the Marquis de Briquemaut to attack La 
 Riviere in Jarnac. The town was taken by assault, but 
 as the inhabitants were our own people no outrages 
 were committed. The Catholics who surrendered re- 
 ceived quarter, and many made their escape: but Le- 
 spinette and his band took refuge in the old keep, 
 declaring they would hold it out to the last. Almost 
 at the same moment that they were making this decla- 
 ration, the lower part took fire, finable to find any 
 other means of escape, the commander 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 burnt to death in 
 their arms. 
 
 At this period the situation of the Protestant army 
 became every day more and more critical. The Catho- 
 lic force, nearly double in number 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 imme- 
 diate battle. The most important points of the Charente 
 were, it is true, in our hands; the admiral and the 
 Prince de CondS were once more at the head of their 
 
200 
 
 THE MAK AT AKMSj 
 
 troops ; and had their tactical skill been well seconded 
 by the zeal and obedience of the officers under their 
 command, we might have set the enemy at defiance till 
 sufficient reinforcements 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 to 
 which D’Andelot and the Prince de Conde contrived to 
 treat them on his advance. Scarcely a day passed with- 
 out some hundreds, sometimes thousands of our troops 
 being thrown unexpectedly upon some vulnerable point 
 of the enemy’s position ; sometimes we advanced abso- 
 lutely 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 Puy- 
 viault, we encountered close to Anville, 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 reinforced, 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 posts pushed across the river in different 
 directions, in order to guard against surprise. I myself, 
 no longer acting as a mere partisan, but attending im- 
 plicitly to the orders I received as a soldier, was sta- 
 tioned 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 Conde ; 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 
 
OR, HENRI HE CERONS. 201 
 
 and beating of drums, made me suspect at once that 
 their appearance was a mere feint ; and haying 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 intelli- 
 gence 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 
 having maintained 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 quar- 
 ters appointed me. 
 
 The house seemed pretty comfortable, and the stables 
 for the horses good, with a 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-stair 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, who was with me, 
 “you may think yourself lucky if you get a straw for 
 a horse, seigneur. These are 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 yes- 
 terday, there was a large farm I saw about a quarter of 
 a mile out there to the right. The man, Chemille told 
 me, would neither say whether he was Catholic or 
 
202 
 
 THE HAN A $ ARMS; 
 
 Protestant. But I must have forage whichever he is. 
 The admiral says we must not 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, Mon- 
 sieur 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 in the room on 
 my right hand, and I accordingly entered, 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 approached, 
 though bestowing no very soft benediction on the page 
 for pinching his leg with the genouillere, and exclaimed, 
 “ Welcome, welcome, De Cerons ! so I find you as I 
 hoped to find you, changed from little David the shep- 
 herd’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 wel- 
 comed 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 tne prince would very willingly 
 
203 
 
 OE, IIEKBI BE CEEOisS. 
 
 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 advanced guard ; for I have a strange notion 
 that we shall not he 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 5 
 disencumbering myself of my armour, for I had never t 
 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 pigs’ ears and 
 feet stewed 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 neces- 
 sary, 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 com- 
 panions 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 for- 
 ward 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 
 
204 
 
 THE MIN AT AEMS ; 
 
 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 Conde, having a sort of 
 presentiment in his mind, which, he said, had never 
 failed him hitherto, that a battle w r as 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 in 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, 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 Bordeaux was not much to 
 his 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 weigh- 
 ing it against another dagger, having a smaller hilt than 
 
205 
 
 OR, HENRI HE CERONS. 
 
 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 further con- 
 versation 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, 1 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. 
 
 CHAPTEK XV, 
 
 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, requiring 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 
 
206 
 
 THE MAH AT AHMS ; 
 
 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 neigh- 
 bourhood, and the approach of a speedy and sanguinary 
 conflict. We went on, talking of the position and situa- 
 tion 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 Chateau- 
 neuf would be frustrated in a moment. 
 
 “ There is Soubise , 55 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 
 the enemy dare not attempt it before the force which 
 the admiral can bring into the field . 5 5 
 
 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 by a bridge of 
 boats. I have myself seen ten or twelve cornets of 
 horse, with the great blue standard amongst them. 
 The whole vanguard has passed already, I am sure ; and 
 there is a bridge of boats built just below the other 
 bridge . 55 
 
 “ I fear this is some negligence on La Loue’s part , 55 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 ! 55 
 
 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 Conde, met me before I 
 ^each Triac, but passed without speaking, and just 
 
207 
 
 OB, HEIN'RI DE CEBONS. 
 
 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 cas- 
 socks lined the whole side of the river, while over the 
 bridge of Chsteauneuf, and over a bridge of boats, con- 
 structed 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 Catho- 
 lics were a number of squadrons of horse, charging 
 with levelled lances two or three small bands of Hugue- 
 nots, 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 Protes- 
 tant cavalry were 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 assist- 
 ance 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 the gallant and determined body of Pluviaut’s 
 arquebusiers, who advanced rapidly towards the cause- 
 way of the tank, and opened a sharp fire upon the 
 nearest 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 
 game direction as myself. Eecognising at their head 
 
208 
 
 THE MAH AT ARMS ; 
 
 one who’s skill and talents were already remarkable, 
 and who is now celebrated as La Noue, together with 
 Acier 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 abreast 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. Pluviaut, at the same moment, re- 
 newed 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 to 
 delay the enemy in the meadows by the river, so long 
 as to enable the admiral and the Prince de Conde to 
 gain a good position on the heights, La None gave the 
 order to wheel and keep upon the same line with the 
 infantry ; but on looking round we saw that Pluviaut, 
 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 energy worthy of admira- 
 tion : Martigue was within ten paces of me when I 
 turned my horse ; and, calling out, “ Ha, the cornet ! 
 the cornet ! — a moi, a 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 Pluviaut; 
 and their men were following by twos and threes as 
 they could disentangle themselves. After two or three 
 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. 
 
209 
 
 OE, HENHI DE CEKOKS. 
 
 u 1 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 Pluviaut, who with admirable skill and 
 determination was keeping the enemy at bay as long as 
 possible, maintaining every little edge and every little 
 wall w r ith his arquebusiers, taking advantage of each 
 rise and fall of the ground, and fighting every step as 
 he slowly retreated towards the village where I had 
 slept during the preceding night. To him, I cannot 
 help saying, more than to any one else, it is to be attri- 
 buted that the battle did not prove more disastrous to 
 the Protestants than it ultimately did. 
 
 In the meantime La Noue exclaimed to me, “ Betreat 
 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 Ca- 
 tholic 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 If oue and 
 the rest to retire in good order. 
 
 Acier 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, Acier, I fear,” replied I; “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 varlets and horse- 
 boys and baggage out at the other end of the town. 
 Ah, Master Martigue,” he exclaimed, seeing that the 
 
 14 
 
210 *HE MAH Al? ARMS; 
 
 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 continued, 
 “ but I have upset a waggon 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 waggon 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. 
 
 Pluviaut, however, was by this time safe ; and as we 
 issued forth from the other side of the village, with our 
 men 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 Conde would be in the field in 
 a few minutes. 
 
 The enemy perceived this at the same moment that 
 we did, and pursued no further ; 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 Acier ! 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 hi3 courage, 
 had, by this time, drawn out a part of his cavalry beyond 
 the houses, and we spurred forward upon them with 
 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 straight on 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 
 
211 
 
 OE, HENRI DE CERONS. 
 
 gauntlet of his left hand, which at the same time held 
 his reins. With that single blow he dashed up the 
 covering of his enemy’s face, while, at the very same 
 moment, with his right he pointed a pistol under the 
 helmet, and fired. The man fell dead from his horse, 
 and D’Andelot passed on at once through the line. # 
 
 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 
 forced 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 fire-arms, and 
 Martigue, finding himself supported by the Count de 
 Brissac, with a fresh body of cavalry and sixteen hun- 
 dred 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 the river, the Duke of Mont- 
 pensier advancing up the slope, with at least ten thou- 
 sand men, and the division of the Duke of Anjou fol- 
 lowing, 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 array, and the 
 admiral took care to seize the opportunity of restoring 
 confidence by wheeling with a small force as if to charge 
 
 * This curious trait of the famous D’Andelot is recorded by all 
 the other persons present, as well as by Monsieur de Cerons. The 
 person who was thus killed is said to have been the Marquis de 
 Monsalez, but there is every reason to think that this is a mistake. 
 I beg it to be remembered that all the facts here stated by M. de 
 Cerons are borne out by all the contemporary authorities. 
 
212 
 
 THE MAN AT AEMS J 
 
 Martigue. He did not do so, "however ; but, after looking 
 round him for a moment, as if seeking some one be could 
 trust, but whose absence would be no great detriment, 
 be beckoned me up to bim, and said, in a low tone, 
 “ Monsieur de Cerons, you fear nothing, I tbink ? ” 
 
 “ I trust not, sir,” I replied. 
 
 “ The battle must be general, I think,” be said ; 
 “ there is no avoiding it. I wish some one to ride 
 towards Jarnac, to the Prince de Conde, without the 
 loss of a moment, 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 one 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 hun- 
 dred 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 further, 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 
 
213 
 
 OB, HENRI HE CERON9. 
 
 fire at the chargers instead of the riders, not one of ns 
 would have escaped to bear the admiral’s message to 
 the Prince de Conde. 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 I saw, at the top of the hill, 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, the 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 Conde ? ” 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. “ Hearing some firing, we supposed 
 that some affair was taking place, and are marching up 
 towards Triac.” 
 
 “The whole van are engaged,” I replied; and with- 
 out more words, rode on, and met the prince at the 
 head of three or four hundred horse, almost all gentle- 
 men of high quality, and distinguished in arms. The 
 prince was speaking gaily, 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.” 
 
214 
 
 THE MAH AT AEMS J 
 
 “ 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 ad- 
 vance of the main battle. Chouppes, ride on with Lan- 
 guilliers to Soubise, and you three, with your men, 
 gallop as fast as you can towards Triac, to clear the 
 ground a little till 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 for- 
 ward, 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 Pluviaut, and his men, stretching out and 
 menacing the flank of Martigue’s troops, afforded us, 
 indeed, the means of joining our line to that of the 
 admiral ; and had the whole of the Prince de Conde’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. 
 
 Conde 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 pre- 
 vented the fatal results of that day’s field. Conde, 
 however, saw our auxiliaries arrive with joy and satis- 
 faction; not that he hoped to save the battle by the 
 rash and desperate conduct he was prepared to pursue, 
 but he thought that, all events, he should be enabled 
 
OB, HENBX DE CEEONS. 215 
 
 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 
 amongst 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 Conde 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 Eochefaucault was mounting a 
 fresh horse, to accompany him into the melee, 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 
 Kochefoucault 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 consternation, however, I beheld, on approaching, 
 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 
 
216 
 
 THE MAH AT ABMS ; 
 
 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. We all followed. There was an im- 
 mense body of men at arms before us, amounting, it is 
 said, in all, to two thousand ; 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 Conde did. There was not 
 one man of us that hour who then spurred on his horse, 
 that did not believe his life was at a close, and that 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 Vallette, the regiments 
 of Chauvigny and Nevers were cast into confusion, 
 and, to use the words of another eye-witness, “ In 
 brief, the prince and his troop seemed like a thunder- 
 bolt.” 
 
 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 
 the adversary who happened to be nearest to us. I 
 was cutting my way on, attending to little else, 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, and an instant 
 after, before any one could take advantage of my situa- 
 tion, my horse was killed under me, and fell at once tq 
 
 The translation of the words upon his standard# 
 
217 
 
 OB, HENEI DE CEEONS. 
 
 the ground, jamming firmly my right leg between the 
 saddle and the earth, so that having lost the use of my 
 arm on the same side, it was impossible for me to ex- 
 tricate myself. 
 
 The Catholic men at arms who were nearest to me 
 apparently conceived that I was killed, and one of them 
 passed over me ; but I was not only uninjured, except 
 from the wounds I have mentioned, but was also pain- 
 fully sensible of all the horrors that were passing 
 around me. 
 
 It is utterly impossible to give anything like an idea 
 of the scene that took place before my eyes. Some- 
 times 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, with 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, to a spot 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 still urged him 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, Conde 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 
 
218 
 
 THE MAH AT AEMS ; 
 
 his face to the gentleman to whom he had surrendered, 
 whose name I afterwards found was Argence. 
 
 The moment he saw the face of the prince, Argence 
 sprang from his horse, aided Conde to rise, and then, 
 seeing the state of his leg, bore rather than assisted 
 him to the foot of a small hawthorn tree, and placed 
 his hack against the hank that supported it. He was 
 now 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 closed, 
 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, 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 Conde, 
 there, Montesquieu.’ ’ 
 
 “ Taken him ! ” exclaimed the brute, in a furious tone. 
 “ Kill him ! kill him ! — Morbleu ! ” and, dashing forward, 
 he levelled his pistol at the head of the unfortunate 
 prince, and fired. Conde’s head first fell back against 
 the bank, and then, rolling over with a convulsive mo- 
 tion, he sank dead at the foot 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 cf 
 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 frank and generous- 
 minded, too ; and as he passed within about ten paces of 
 me, I called loudly upon his name. He did not hear 
 
219 
 
 OR, HENRI HE CERONS. 
 
 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, “ a gentle- 
 man and a knight, who wishes 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^friy 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, turn- 
 ing 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 XVI. 
 
 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 care and kindness, 
 from the ground. Eor 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 con- 
 tinued powerless, and the people who had me in charge 
 
220 
 
 THE MAN AT AEMS ; 
 
 led me away, according to Martigue’s orders, to seek for 
 a surgeon. The only men of skill, it seems, who accom- 
 panied the Catholic army, were to be found with the 
 division of the Duke of Anjou, and in searching for 
 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 Pro- 
 testant 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 harsh 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, Ifis 
 son. 
 
 They were no longer, however, occupying th© 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 hand- 
 some, and there was something commanding in his 
 figure and deportment; but there was also a sinister 
 expression about his eyes which was not pleasant, and 
 there was a peculiarity in his countenance, which, in the 
 
221 
 
 OR, UENRI DE CEROKS. 
 
 course of my whole life, I have only seen in two other 
 men besides himself. It was, that as long as he re- 
 mained grave and serious, though somewhat stern, the 
 expression was not so bad ; but the moment that he 
 smiled, it made ones blood run cold. After speaking 
 two words to the page, he turned to me, saying, sternly, 
 “Do you know whether the Prince de Conde 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 gen- 
 tlemen.” 
 
 “ It may he 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.” 
 
 “Ah!” 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, be- 
 
 fore 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 Conde, the Duke of Mont- 
 pensier urged his horse forward, and spoke a word or 
 tw r o 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, lies the 
 
222 THE MAtf AT AMS; 
 
 Prince de Conde ? 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 Coustoureau 
 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 an- 
 other gentleman rode on to see if they could discover the 
 body of the unfortunate Prince de Conde. While they 
 w r ere gone, the deepest stillness pervaded the whole 
 scene. There was a sort of awful expectation about 
 those who knew not whether I had spoken the 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 emotion* 
 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 crowd of people com- 
 ing forward in an irregular mass, with something carried 
 on 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 wore underneath, his shirt and person dabbled 
 with blood and dirt, was the body of the unfortunate 
 Prince de Conde, cast across an ass, wfith the head hang- 
 ing 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 points of the 
 locks, near the face, the blood, still streaming from his 
 death wound, dropped slowly upon the dusty ground, as 
 
223 
 
 OE, HEtfEX EE CEEOKS. 
 
 they bore him along, 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 ribbons which tied the sleeves of his 
 shirt, which I had remarked particularly as he was 
 putting on his casque, at the moment when the horse 
 had kicked him. 
 
 “Are you sure that it 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 knight- 
 hood 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 farm-houses,” cried 
 the Duke of Anjou, “ and carry the body on to Jarnac. 
 You have told 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 examined 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, and there brought me to a farm-house, where 
 they placed me in a small room, with several other 
 
224 
 
 THE MAH AT AEMS \ 
 
 prisoners, amongst whom I found La Noue, and tha 
 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, as he 
 might have defended it long; and certain it is, that, 
 even had the enemy forced the passage, the delay which 
 a struggle would have occasioned might have given us 
 a chance of victory ; for it was afterwards 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 
 Conde, was still unknown amongst 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 the prince had fallen by some 
 chance blow, or had been 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 that Argence would never have suffered Mon- 
 tesquieu 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 alone 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 imagi- 
 nation to conjure up. 
 
225 
 
 OR, HENRI BE CERONS. 
 
 At the end of that time the door of the room again 
 opened, and Stuart was brought in ; but, oh, how 
 changed since 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 grieve I 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 Henri of Anjou,” replied Stuart. 
 “But I know very well, De Cerons, that I have not 
 long to live. In my case, 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. 
 
 At 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 preci- 
 sion, he wrote down the acknowledgment, and gave it 
 to me. 
 
 15 
 
226 
 
 THE MAtf AT AltMS ; 
 
 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 seve- 
 ral 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 pre- 
 sence of the duke. At the door of our room we found 
 two or three guards, who led us up some dark steps, 
 and then through a door into a long and wide but low 
 stone gallery, with a large gray column 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 
 Conde, 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 further e£d of the hall we paused for tha 
 
OB, SEKBI m CftKOtfS. 227 
 
 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 apprehen- 
 sive for my poor comrade. 
 
 At length my name was called, and I passed on 
 through the door into a small passage which led to an 
 inner room ; it could scarcely be called the antechamber 
 of the duke’s apartment, for it was not above eight feet 
 long and five or six in width. It was tapestried, how- 
 ever, and there was a lamp against the wall, but the 
 door of the chamber beyond was partly open, and a great 
 light streamed forth. 
 
 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 boldly and fearlessly. 
 
 “ 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 has surrendered, merits by 
 every law of arms. I am no assassin : it is you who 
 butcher prisoners in cold blood. Eut 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 an 
 
228 
 
 THE MAN AT ASMS; 
 
 instant, as if he would have spoken to me in passing, 
 but in that moment I could see his features change. I 
 feel convinced that he recollected he might do me injury 
 by any token of friendship, and therefore it was 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 towards 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 never, in the course of my exist- 
 ence, 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 
 argue 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.” 
 
 Amongst the various 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 
 
OR, HENRI HE CERONS. 229 
 
 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, ad- 
 vancing 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,” 
 replied 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, J 
 should think, none to your highness either.” 
 
 “ I should think not, indeed,” said one of the gentle- 
 men 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 : be- 
 sides, 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 ; but at 
 all events, I had a very strong objection to hanging 
 from one of the spouts of the castle of Jarnac. The 
 duke looked towards me as he asked for the second 
 time, if I were not a marauder, and I replied, “Your 
 highness has been greatly misinformed. I am no ma- 
 rauder, 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 we have demanded one shilling of contri- 
 bution from any village in which we lodged. The bare 
 walls of the house in which I was quartered was all that 
 
230 
 
 THE MAH AT ARMS; 
 
 I ever required ; and my purse has always been ready to 
 pay for everything that I took. 5 ’ 
 
 “ That is more than his highness, or any one elsa 
 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 any 
 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, gaily, “ 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 high- 
 ness’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 
 
OR, HENRI HE CERONS. 231 
 
 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 too frequently 
 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 Lou- 
 dun, Monsieur de Cerons led those that pursued. My 
 son turned to drive them back. In the melee 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, not 
 only must I 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 a little 
 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 afterwards 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, 
 on their part, 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 
 
232 
 
 THE MAH AT ASMS; 
 
 like a string between two young dogs, pulled here and 
 there over every bush and hill and fence, through the 
 whole land. Ton my soul, I had hoped and trusted 
 that I should hear Martigue was 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 Conde were 
 rash and insolent.” 
 
 “ But were never applicable to your highness,” I re- 
 plied. “ 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 it 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 gra- 
 ciously granted my request?” 
 
238 
 
 OR, HEKEI DE CEROtfS. 
 
 The prince bowed his head, and Montpensier, passing 
 round the table, took me by the arm, nodding to Mar- 
 tigue, 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 Gerons 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 fol- 
 lowed through the door. In that little passage ante- 
 chamber, however, my first step was into a pool of dark 
 blood, and I was about to draw back with an exclama- 
 tion of horror, when the duke pulled me on sharply by 
 the left arm ; and after we had gone 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 XVII. 
 
 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 Conde 
 lay, to the lower story of the building, where we found, 
 not far from the room in which I had been at first con- 
 fined, a considerable body of my conductor’s 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 1 could name. Take him away with you, 
 
234 
 
 THE MAN AT ARMS ; 
 
 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 sur- 
 rendered 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 pri- 
 soner 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 magnificent dresses, there were lights 
 in all the rooms, and the prince led me into a 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 re- 
 ceived, spoke to me of the different events of the late 
 battle, and mentioned the death of the Prince de Conde 
 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 expres- 
 sion of those opinions, for there are dangerous men 
 around us all, and you might place yourself in situa- 
 
OR, HENRI HE CERONS. 235 
 
 tions from which it might be difficult, if not impos- 
 sible, to extricate you.” 
 
 I promised to follow his counsel ; and then, judging 
 from his conversation that he must have more experi- 
 ence in the ways of courts and camps than I had ima- 
 gined, 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 un- 
 presuming modesty, and all the frank, quick emotions ot 
 boyhood. I remarked afterwards 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 his son was a youth, flew always 
 to his succour in the battle-field, and seemed 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 insured 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. 
 
 We had not been long in conversation, when some 
 steps were heard in the other hall, and the voice of the 
 Duke of Montpensier 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, having been accompanied 
 by Martigue, who entered the little room with him, and 
 by several others, who remained behind in the supper- 
 room. 
 
 The moment he came in, Martigue seized me roughly 
 by the collar on both sides of my buff coat, and gave me 
 8, strong but friendly shake, exclaiming, “You young 
 
236 
 
 THE MAH AT ARMS; 
 
 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 ; 44 but here I and Monsieur de Mont- 
 pensier have been quarrelling for you. He says he will 
 keep you here at all events 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/’ 
 
 44 1 could not help it, Monsieur de Martigue,” I replied, 
 44 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 afterwards.” 
 
 44 What ! in the village ? ” cried Martigue. 44 Oh, I 
 never got near you there.” 
 
 44 No,” I replied, “but after that unfortunate melee, 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.” 
 
 44 By the Lord, you might have done worse ! ” cried 
 Martigue. 44 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, in- 
 stead of quiet people like ourselves, there is no knowing 
 what would have come of it.” 
 
 • The streets of Jarnac would haye flowed with blood, ,f 
 
OR, HENRI HE CERONS. 237 
 
 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, I will 
 beg you to remain with us for some few weeks, as I have 
 every reason to believe that ere long matters will 
 assume a more pacific aspect, and that the contentions 
 which now desolate France will be brought to an end 
 without your taking any further 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, on 
 account of my wounds, 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 inas- 
 much 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, to despatch three horses and two horse- 
 boys to join me immediately; and, carrying the small 
 chest, in which I had placed the ransom of Monsieur de 
 Jersay with the other money, to the admiral, to beg 
 him to open it, and divide a thousand crowns amongst 
 the men of my troop, requesting further that, after send- 
 ing me a thousand crowns, he 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 
 
238 THE MAH AT ABMS * 
 
 sewers 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 w r ith 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 on the back to Moric Endem, with 
 a few words stating that, if he was not to be found, it 
 was to be given to the admiral. I then followed to the 
 supper-table, at which the duke was now seated, sur- 
 rounded by a number of distinguished men, but with a 
 seat reserved for me amongst them ; and I must say that 
 I never in my life met with more kindness and courtesy 
 than greeted me at the Duke of Montpensiers table, 
 though but a prisoner. 
 
 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, fevered, 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 to during the 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 fix 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, ail the objects in the room 
 seemed to swim around me, and I fell back senseless 
 on the floor of the hall. 
 
 When I was 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 very vague recollec- 
 
239 
 
 6ft, IiENEI Dft CEBOKS. 
 
 ticrt, however, of what passed on that occasion, for J 
 was, during the whole night, in a state approaching 
 delirium, with wild, vague 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 Conde, 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 awoke just after the dawn, I 
 found the Prince d’Auvergne sitting beside me, and 
 speaking, in a low voice, 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 wake 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 inquire into 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 amongst the prisoners or the wounded 
 any men belonging to my band, I trust that you will have 
 them kindly treated for my sake. There is one poor 
 lad, indeed, for whom I am anxious to make inquiries. 
 13e is named Andriot, and followed me to the field, not 
 
240 
 
 $HE MAN AT ABMS $ 
 
 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 do come back ; and in 
 the meantime, I understand the surgeon has left espe- 
 cial 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 less whirling 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 peace- 
 ful slumber. 
 
 At length I woke, 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 Pro- 
 testant 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. Bemembering 
 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 foot-falls without, as if those of some lame 
 person approaching the chamber, and in a moment or 
 two after, not a little to my satisfaction, poor Andriot 
 
241 
 
 OR, HENRI HE CERONS. 
 
 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, at a later period 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 Montpcnsier. The duke and his son 
 both showed me the very 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 anyone comport himself 
 better in a hot melee 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 un- 
 pleasant thing that can happen to any gentleman adven- 
 turer. I dare say for a person 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 advan- 
 tage, too, of being able to get yourself killed another 
 time in case you like it. 
 
 “ In the meantime, I will do my best to lead the troop 
 as you have done, and I trust we shall have plenty of 
 plunder to give an account of when you come back 
 
 16 
 
242 
 
 THE MAN AT AEMS ; 
 
 again. The enemy are not so successful at that work 
 as we are, and you will be glad to hear that all the hag- 
 gage is quite safe. I have taken the chest to the 
 admiral as you commanded, and have distributed the 
 thousand crowns amongst the men, who are very grate- 
 ful, 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 deniers. 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 arquehuse halls 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 with- 
 out 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, 
 
 “ Mokic Endem/’ 
 
 With this curious epistle was a brief note from the 
 admiral, acknowledging the receipt of the monpy, 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, which 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 mor- 
 tified, annoyed, and thoughtful. After supper, he some- 
 what 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 
 
243 
 
 OB, HENKI EE CEE01STS. 
 
 army obliged to withdraw. Shortly after this period, 
 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 sur- 
 geon thinks it is 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 Cliampigny, 
 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 as you think fit, my lord,” I replied, 
 “ 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 interest nearly at heart. My son 
 and I are not 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 pri- 
 soner, though assuredly a prisoner in no very strict sense 
 of the word, rather 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 — rather than see 
 you, I say, 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, J 
 wish you well.” 
 
 I took his hand respectfully, I may say affectionately, 
 and I 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 calcu- 
 lations 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 ? If is of course im- 
 
244 
 
 THE MAH AT ABHS 
 
 possible for me to fight against those who maintain the 
 same religious opinions as myself, and, consequently, the 
 only field that is open to me in arms is the Protestant 
 cause.” 
 
 44 But the estate of Cerons ? ” said the duke, inquir- 
 ingly. “ I remember it a very fair property in the hands 
 of, I think, your father.” 
 
 44 Alas ! sir,” I replied, “ the estate of Cerons has 
 never been mine. My father, by the necessity of the 
 times in which he lived, was obliged to part with the 
 whole estate, except one rood of land, retained to pre- 
 serve the name to his son. The rest was bought by his 
 more fortunate cousin, the Baron de Blancford, with 
 whom it still remains. Thus, therefore, my lord, if you 
 keep me a prisoner, though your motives may be most 
 kind ones, you cut me off from every opportunity of ad- 
 vancing 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.” 
 
 44 What, love?” said the Duke of Montpensier, laying 
 his hand upon my shoulder, and gazing in my face with 
 a smile. 44 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. 
 
 44 1 had thought your circumstances were different,” 
 he continued ; 44 but, however, it will only make this 
 difference, that it will induce us to do at once what we 
 intended always to do ultimately.” 
 
 44 To set me at liberty, I trust, my lord?” I replied. 
 
 “No,” he said, with a smile ; 44 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 remem- 
 ber I only exact one thing ere we part. When you are 
 at Champigny, you are to make yourself as little known 
 by name as possible, and to keep yourself as much con- 
 cealed as you can. However, I will talk to D Auvergne 
 about it, and he shall tell you all. He sees me ten 
 
245 
 
 OR, HEKRI BE CEEOKS. 
 
 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, 
 to which place I fancied the duke was about to send me. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 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 J arnac, and certainly 
 a very different scene, indeed, was afforded by the gay 
 and glittering procession of the royal host from that of 
 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 
 
240 
 
 THE MAH AT ABM 3 ; 
 
 out. I found that the' prince * had gone to the quarters 
 of the Duke of Anjou, and such of his attendants as 
 were about to be sent from the army to Champigny 
 were waiting round the door with their horses and mine 
 ready to take their place as the troops passed along. 
 Determined to follow their example, I was waiting 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, a letter was suddenly put 
 into my hands, and I saw one of the most beautiful 
 girls I had ever beheld, whose features seemed not un- 
 familiar to me. The handwriting of the letter, however, 
 was far better known, for it was that of Louise de 
 Blancford, and, all eagerness, I was tearing open the 
 seal, 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 ?” 
 
 She seemed about thirteen or fourteen years of age, 
 not more; and after gazing upon her for a moment, 
 endeavouring to recollect where I had seen her, I said, 
 “ How can I befriend you, my good girl ? What is 
 your name?” 
 
 “You recollect me not,” replied the girl; “but my 
 name is Miriam Ahar.” 
 
 “ Oh, I recollect thee well,” I replied; “ now tell me 
 what I can do for thee, pretty one, and I will do it with 
 pleasure.” And as I spoke there was a look of real 
 pleasure, I believe, came over my countenance which 
 brought a smile upon the girl’s beautiful lips. 
 
 “ I was sure you would be kind,” she said, “ and you 
 can help us thus : My father is here in yonder house 
 with some rich merchandise. He is appointed to come 
 after the army with the rear-guard, which sets out at 
 
 * He was called the Prince Dauphin on account of his being 
 the Dauphin of Auvergne ; but we have given him the title of 
 prince only for fear of confusion. It has been attempted in these 
 pages to display his character as it really was, while we give a few 
 traits and anecdotes of his conduct in situations in which he was 
 actually placed. 
 
247 
 
 OB, HENRI HE CERONS. 
 
 four this evening ; but he has learned from a good friend 
 in this place, that six of the many men who do evil 
 deeds in such armies as these, have their eyes upon 
 him. Now you know what often happens to a Jew 
 when he travels with the rear-guard of an army.” 
 
 “ No, I do not,” I replied : “ I never heard of any 
 injury befalling them.” 
 
 “Ay, who hears of such things befalling them hut 
 their own nation?” said she, “Who hears that the 
 dead body of a Jew, murdered and stripped, is found by 
 the road-side? and all that are with him, what becomes 
 of them ? They fly if they are permitted, and some 
 are killed to prevent them from bearing witness, and 
 the rest are silent through fear, and the murderers go 
 away enriched.” 
 
 There was reason to believe that the girl’s tale was 
 too true ; but it was difficult to know how to serve 
 her. 
 
 “ My poor child,” I said, “ what can be done for you? 
 I am a prisoner and wounded myself ; but if you would 
 point out what could be done, I would gladly do it, for 
 I remember you were kind to me long ago.” 
 
 “You can do much for us,” she said. “We knew 
 you were a prisoner, for we have been in the Protestant 
 camp and inquired for you. But still you can do much 
 for us ; for they say that you are loved by some of the 
 great amongst these people, and we have only the pro- 
 tection of those who would devour us. Get us permis- 
 sion to go this very hour in the train of the main battle 
 with which you go, and let one of your people accom- 
 pany us ; if so, we are safe ; if not we are altogether 
 lost.” 
 
 “ I will do my best for you, Miriam,” I replied. 
 “ Here comes the Prince d’Auvergne ; I will apply to 
 him. Stand by me ; do not go back. — My lord,” I 
 said, “ here is a petitioner to me. She and her father 
 were kind to me long ago. They are Jews, but without 
 their help I could never have appeared in the field at all. 
 They are now appointed to go with the rear-guard ; but 
 you know what is likely to happen to a Jew, in a 
 
248 THE MATT AT ARMS; 
 
 march, partly in the night, amongst the stragglers of 
 the army.” 
 
 “ Let them follow us if they can get ready,” replied 
 the prince, in evident haste; “ one of your people can 
 go with them, De Cerons.” 
 
 “But give them some sort of safeguard, my lord,” I 
 said ; “ one word under your hand.” 
 
 “ Here, a pen and ink, Arnon !”said the prince, in the 
 same hasty tone ; and tearing a leaf out of his tablet he 
 wrote, “ Suffer to pass ”■ — “ What is the name? ” 
 
 “ Solomon Ahar,” I replied. 
 
 “ Oh, Solomon Ahar, the usurious villain!” he said; 
 “ I have heard of him. Well, nevertheless — ” and he 
 went on writing — “ Suffer to pass Solomon Ahar, his 
 people and horses, with the baggage of Francis d’Au- 
 vergne.” — “ There,” he said, “ these vermin will do no 
 great credit to my baggage, De Cerons : but if you wish 
 it, so let it be:” and as he spoke he looked upon the 
 exquisitely beautiful form and features of poor Miriam 
 Ahar as if she had been a speckled toad. Such is 
 prejudice ! 
 
 “ I will be back instantly, De Cerons,” he continued, 
 “ and then we will join the regiment.” 
 
 Thus saying, he turned into the court of the hotel, and 
 I gave the paper to the girl, saying, “ There, Miriam : 
 that is all I can do for you. Andriot, you go with her, 
 and take one of the grooms : I want only one with me. 
 See them safe, and join me after the march.” Miriam 
 took the paper, and for her only reply kissed the hand 
 that held it to her; and running away so fast that 
 Andriot — though very willing to accompany the pretty 
 Jewess, it seemed — could scarcely mount his horse in 
 time to follow her, she disappeared under the doorway 
 of a house higher up the street. 
 
 In a moment or two after the Prince d’Auvergne made 
 his appearance again, and, following him to the park of 
 the chateau, where his regiment, and several others, 
 were drawn up, I was soon plunged into all the bustle 
 of a march with a large army. For some time orders 
 and counter-orders and arrangements of various kinds 
 
OB, HEKBI BE CEEOtfS. 249 
 
 Came so thick, that the prince had no time for conversa- 
 tion with me; but, after the lapse of about an hour, 
 everything fell into regular order again, and as there was 
 no chance of any attack, he left the conduct of his regi- 
 ment to the inferior officers, and civilly getting rid of 
 several noblemen and gentlemen who seemed inclined to 
 attach themselves to his person, he rode on with me, at 
 once opening the conversation with the subject on 
 which his father had spoken to me on the preceding 
 night. 
 
 “ My father,” he said, “ was so hurried yesterday 
 that I did not clearly understand whether he had told 
 you, De Cerons, what we intended to do, or not?” 
 
 I replied that the duke had not done so, but had 
 referred me to him ; and I went on to say, “ You know 
 well, Monsieur d’Auvergne, that protracted imprison- 
 ment must be very painful to me, and I trust that it is 
 vour father’s intention to admit me to ransom.” 
 
 I was proceeding to repeat what I had said to his 
 father the day before, when he interrupted me with a 
 smile, saying, “You need not give me reasons why, De 
 Cerons ; though I look so young, I am old enough to 
 have felt ; and though I am older than you think me, I 
 am not too old to have forgotten such feelings as I saw 
 upon a certain parting between a lady and her lover. 
 Your secret was well kept both by my father and myself, 
 and your sour cousin of Blancford heard nothing of it 
 from us. But with regard to setting you free I have 
 nothing to do; and I feel very sure that one of my 
 father’s reasons for sending you to Champigny is, that 
 you may be near your fair lady, and not by a lengthened 
 imprisonment lose the opportunity of advancing your- 
 self in the favour either of herself or her father.” 
 
 “ Good God !” I exclaimed; “ I had not the slightest 
 idea that the baron had gone to Saumur.” 
 
 “ Oh ! you mistake, you mistake,” said the prince. 
 “ My father did not speak of sending you to Champigne- 
 le-sec, which, as its name implies, would be a dry 
 residence for you enough, but to Champigny, near Paris, 
 where we have estates, and an old chateau of which we 
 
250 
 
 THE MAH AT ABMS : 
 
 are all fond. But still I must say it is not in my power 
 to affect at all my father’s determination about your 
 imprisonment. Indeed I must confess I think it best 
 for you that it should be as it is ; and at all events, I 
 have no authority in the matter. What I alluded to was 
 something quite different. The day before yesterday, as 
 we were riding down towards Cognac, my father and I 
 were talking of you, and we determined, in memory of 
 the day when you and I first met, to make you a present 
 of a little farm that we lately bought for the purpose of 
 giving it to an old friend of ours. He was unfortunately 
 killed, however, in the first skirmish of this campaign. 
 It lies close to our own place at Champigny, and is 
 called by his name, which was the cause of our buying 
 it for him. That name is Les Bois. It remains just as 
 we had it all arranged to give him. The old chateau, 
 though but small, is, I think you will admit, as sweet a 
 spot as well could be chosen to repose in after the toils 
 of war. We have had it tapestried and furnished afresh 
 throughout in the very last mode, and the annual rent 
 amounts to about five thousand livres per annum.” 
 
 “ Oh, my lord, my lord, mention not such a thing to 
 me,” I cried. “Although your rank and mine might 
 well permit me to accept your bounty, yet such a gift as 
 that I am utterly undeserving of.” 
 
 “ Not at all, De Cerons, not at all,” replied the 
 prince. “ You must recollect the circumstances under 
 which it is offered. If, on the occasion of the retreat 
 from Loudun, you had chosen to kill me, you might 
 have done so ; but you were too generous for that. 
 You might equally have made me your prisoner; but 
 the truth was, you thought me a mere boy, and let me 
 escape. I have no objection, De Cerons, to remain 
 under obligations to you ; and even in offering you this 
 little gift, both my father and myself are still your 
 debtors. You forget what would have been the ransom 
 of the Prince d’Auvergne. I know well what it would 
 be if Montluc had to fix it. Certainly not less than 
 fifty thousand gold Henris, or a hundred thousand crowns 
 of the si in. The estate we give, in all, cost but a third 
 
OB, HEtfBI BE CEBOKS. 25 % 
 
 of that sum ; and, therefore, my good friend, as the mer- 
 chants would say, I still bear a great portion of my 
 ransom to the credit of gratitude. The deeds of the 
 estate my father has left with me to make over to you, 
 and, if we can find a notary within ten miles of our 
 halting-place, they shall be made your own this very 
 night.” 
 
 It may be easily conceived what were my feelings 
 upon the present occasion. The tone in which he spoke, 
 his whole manner and look, left no opportunity of 
 refusing, even with courtesy, had I been so inclined. 
 But when I looked upon his offer, and thought that this, 
 which was given so generously, might be but the foun- 
 dation of my future fortunes, I felt no inclination to 
 refuse. I thought of Louise, too, my own bright Louise, 
 and I felt the letter which she had sent me, and which 
 I had placed in my bosom to read when alone, grow 
 warm upon my heart when new hopes and expectations 
 entered into it. 
 
 The eye of the prince was upon me as I thus thought, 
 and he seemed to read all the feelings that were passing 
 in my bosom, for a smile came upon his countenance, 
 and he said, “ Come, De Cerons, you accept it. Prithee, 
 not a word more. At Champigny you will have the 
 opportunity of visiting your new estate, or even of dwell- 
 ing there if you so will, for the limits of the two pro- 
 perties touch, and of course you may reside at which 
 you will. It is better, perhaps, however, that you should 
 go to Champigny at first, where everything is prepared 
 and ready for you ; and, in the meantime, as it is some- 
 what dangerous just now for a Protestant to appear in 
 the neighbourhood of Paris, you may take with all safety 
 the name of Les Bois, as you have made that of De 
 Cerons somewhat too well known.” 
 
 Thus conversing, we went on our way, and in the 
 evening arrrived at the camp under the walls of Angou- 
 leme. Persons were waiting for us at the quarters 
 marked out for the Prince d Auvergne, inviting us to sup 
 with the Duke of Montpensier, and not a moment was 
 
252 THE MAH AT AEMS « 
 
 allowed me to read the letter of Louise till I retired to 
 rest for the night. 
 
 In the meantime, however, two circumstances hap- 
 pened which I must notice briefly. The first was the 
 actual transfer of the chateau and property of Les Bois 
 to myself, which was executed that night in the presence 
 of a notary, both the Duke of Montpensier and the prince 
 signing the act. The next occurred as we were pausing 
 round the table for a moment after supper. There was 
 no one in the chamber but the duke, his son, and 
 myself, and we were about to separate, when an attend- 
 ant announced that the Jew, Solomon Ahar, waited 
 without. Probably each of the three thought that the 
 business of the Jew was with himself; but the duke 
 said, “It is only that usurious Jew, who comes to tell 
 me, I suppose, that the Duke of Anjou cannot have 
 the money that he wants. In fact, I saw it would be 
 so last night ; and I suppose that the man is afraid 
 of telling the duke himself, lest he should lose his ears, 
 so comes to put the unpleasant task on me. Send him 
 in, however. 5 ’ 
 
 In a moment after poor Solomon Ahar entered, cring- 
 ing and bending down to the ground. 
 
 “ Well, Solomon,” said the duke, “ you have come 
 sooner than I expected to see you ; and I suppose this 
 promptitude shows that you have no very good news to 
 bring me.” 
 
 “ Not so, my most gracious lord,” replied the Jew, 
 bending again to the very ground. “ On the contrary, 
 I come to say, I think it can be done. I trust it can be 
 managed. I have good hope that we can accept the 
 terms of the noble prince ; for as I came along but now, 
 I have had much talk and conversation with some of the 
 gentle leaders, about arms, and spoil, and ransoms, and 
 what not, and I have done a little commerce by the way, 
 so that I think the matter can be done to the prince’s 
 contentment ; and I came to tell you first, monseigneur, 
 because I thought it vould do you a pleasure to tell his 
 highness yourself.” 
 
253 
 
 OR, HEHRI RE CERONS. 
 
 ** On my life, it does !” cried the duke, “ for there is 
 many a thing I want the prince to do, which I dare not 
 even ask, when he is in such a humour as at present.” 
 
 “ It is all owing, my very good and excellent lord,” 
 said the Jew, “ it is all owing to these two noble gen- 
 tlemen, my excellent good lord, your son, and that very 
 respectable knight who sits by him ; for had it not been 
 for their protection, and my lord the prince’s permission 
 to come with the main battle, I should never have seen 
 these worthy traders, and done the little commerce that 
 enables me to pleasure the prince.” 
 
 “ It cannot be a little commerce, good Solomon,” said 
 the duke, “ which enables you to furnish a sum of two 
 hundred thousand crowns, when you declared you could 
 not find it in all Paris.” 
 
 “ On my life and soul ! ” cried the Israelite, “ it will 
 but pay the interest of the money, in case I be a loser.” 
 
 But both the duke and his son laughed, and Solomon 
 himself grinned silently, as if he did not in the least 
 degree expect to be believed. He produced from under 
 his robe, however, two small packets, one containing 
 the most exquisitely beautiful pair of gloves for a lady 
 that I ever beheld, being formed of peach-coloured velvet, 
 embroidered on the back with gold and pearls, which he 
 laid before the Prince d’Auvergne, begging his accept- 
 ance of them as a present for any lady that he loved. 
 The other was a small plain dagger, about two hands’ 
 breadths in length, the haft of which was as plain as it 
 well could be, being distinguished by nothing but a few 
 lines of gold inlaid in the steel. The blade, which he 
 drew from the plain steel sheath, was thick and dull in 
 colour, as if it had once been rusty and ill-cleaned. 
 Nevertheless, this somewhat coarse-looking implement 
 he laid upon the table before the duke with great rever- 
 ence, saying, “Let me beg your noble acceptance of that 
 which, though it looks but a poor gift, may be con- 
 sidered as invaluable. That dagger is made of one cake 
 of pure Damascus steel. It will pass through the finest* 
 tempered corselet that can be produced in the camp, 
 ev.en when struck by a weak arm ; and with that dagger 
 
254 
 
 THE MAK AT AKMS ; 
 
 the Emperor Hassan, Caliph of the Moors, killed no 
 less than ten Spanish cavaliers at the great battle of the 
 Salado.” 
 
 The Duke of Montpensier seemed to value the gift 
 highly, and the Jew then turned towards me, bowing 
 low, and saying, “ I have not forgotten to he grateful to 
 Monsieur de Cerons.” 
 
 “ The only gratitude I wish, good Solomon,” I replied, 
 “ is, that you will find for me a certain dagger that you 
 know of, and which I fear may he lost to me for ever, by 
 the death of the person to whom you delivered it.” 
 
 “ I feared so, I feared so,” said the Jew; “ but it shall 
 be found, if it be on this side of Constantinople. I 
 have heard, good sir, that you are going towards Paris, 
 so Monsieur Amon, the Intendant of my good Seigneur 
 d’Auvergne, told me ; and I would fain travel in such 
 safe company, especially as I go on the business of his 
 highness of Anjou,” he added, looking at the duke. 
 
 “ Be it so — be it so,” said the Duke of Montpensier; 
 “ and the sooner you arrive in the capital the better.” 
 
 “ On the twenty-fifth day of the present month,” said 
 the Jew, “his highness may draw on me bills of ex- 
 change through any of the merchants of Poitiers. They 
 will not refuse him the money when they see the name 
 of Solomon Ahar.” 
 
 The duke seemed not a little pleased with this intelli- 
 gence, and, a few more words having passed, Solomon 
 retired from the room, and the duke hastened to com- 
 municate the news he had received to the Duke of 
 Anjou. 
 
 In the meantime, the Prince dAuvergne and I 
 returned to our quarters, and bidding me, kindly, adieu, 
 as I was to depart early on the following morning, he 
 left me, as he thought, to repose. Sleep, however, was 
 not destined to visit my eyes that night. It was with 
 difficulty — my right hand and arm being still bound up 
 in its wooden case — that I was able to open the letter 
 of Louise ; and oh, when I did open it, what pain did it 
 inflict ! The letter has been since destroyed, so that I 
 cannot give it accurately ; but it informed me that the 
 
OR, HENRI HE CERONS. 
 
 255 
 
 baroness had notified to her that her father had con- 
 cluded upon a marriage between her and the Lord of 
 Blaye. Her consent, she said, had never been asked, 
 and the baroness had immediately left her, stupified 
 and thunderstruck. The only consolations she had, the 
 poor girl said, were, in the first place, that the man him- 
 self was absent with the army, and likely to be absent 
 long ; and, in the second, that La Tour assured her 
 the baron himself had fixed that the marriage should 
 not take place for some time. To give me some comfort 
 in such circumstances, she said, “ You know me, Henri ; 
 and know that 1 would rather die. But oh, that I could 
 see you, and speak with you now, if it were but for a 
 few hours I ” 
 
 It may well be conceived that the time now appeared 
 to lag : and wdien I, at length, set off upon my journey 
 towards Champigny, every league seemed extended to 
 two or three, every minute was protracted into days. 
 I was the first in the saddle in the morning, the last 
 to feel fatigue at night. But still, as all the various 
 military movements had disturbed the posts, and we rode 
 our own horses, our journey was in reality slow, and 
 seemed to me still slower. 
 
 There are but few events in that journey which I 
 need dwell upon. The persons who went through it 
 together were divided, by their particular circumstances, 
 by their religion and their habits, into three parties, and 
 each kept much apart from the other. T, belonging to 
 the higher class of the land, was separated from the rest 
 both by my rank and by my faith ; and my servants, 
 being Protestants, were, of course, not sought by the 
 attendants of the Duke of Montpensier. The Intendant, 
 indeed, of the Prince d’Auvergne, generally rode by my 
 side, a step further back, endeavouring to beguile the 
 way with different stories of the many scenes which 
 he had witnessed in a long life, and the descriptions of 
 objects which I had never beheld. He told a tale 
 pleasantly enough, and his descriptions were vivid and 
 accurate. I showed a sufficient degree of interest in 
 
256 THE MAH AT ARMS; 
 
 what he said to flatter his vanity a little, and induce him 
 to go on. 
 
 But he saw that I was deeply melancholy, and some- 
 times appeared to suppose that his conversation wearied 
 me, and ceased it for an hour or two. Thus, then, some 
 little communication took place between the Catholics 
 and Protestants ; but it was very different with the Jews, 
 who formed the third division of our party. They were 
 spoken to, indeed, by both the Catholics and Protestants, 
 from time to time, and were treated with great kindness 
 and with substantial courtesy, having every protection 
 and assistance given to them whenever they needed it ; 
 but the servants, like their masters, looked upon them 
 evidently as an inferior race, and kept up as little com- 
 munication with them as possible. To insure that they 
 were well treated, and had nothing to complain of, — for 
 the Prince dAuvergne had given me authority to regu- 
 late such matters on the march, — I generally made 
 Solomon and Miriam come and sit with me for an hour, 
 after our day’s journey was over, somewhat to the 
 scandal, I believe, of good Master Arnon, the Intendant, 
 who thought it strange that a French nobleman should 
 permit a Jew to sit in his presence. 
 
 By this means took place an intimacy — if that can be 
 so called which consisted almost altogether in tokens of 
 respect and reverence on the one side, and protection on 
 the other — between me and the Jew and his daughter. 
 They clung to me as the only being that treated them 
 with real kindness, and Miriam used to strive to amuse 
 me with a thousand little engaging youthful w T ays : she 
 would dance to me to the sound of her own singing, 
 which was very sweet, though in a tongue that I did not 
 understand ; and she would play to me, at other times, 
 either upon a small instrument, which she called a 
 cithern, or upon a lute, with a skill and perfection that 
 I had never heard before. She used to watch my looks, 
 too, as if to see whether she amused me ; but she seemed 
 to me too young for idle thoughts to enter into the head 
 of any one with regard to her ; and I do not think I 
 
257 
 
 OB, HENBI DE CEBOFS. 
 
 was of a character, even if she had been two or three 
 years older, to fancy that she was in love with me, be- 
 cause she had a grateful regard for me. 
 
 The Jew himself, I believe, would have trusted her 
 anywhere with me, as, by this time, he would have trusted 
 me with any jewel of his store; and, one evening, when 
 he himself had arrived at the inn, weary and somewhat 
 unwell, he sent his daughter to amuse me, and to tell 
 me that he himself had retired to rest. Well might he 
 do so ; and yet the conversation that we had together 
 was as tender and as full of thrilling interest as it is 
 possible to conceive, I had been musing sadly over my 
 fate and that of 'Louise, and my eyes were buried in my 
 hands when her entrance roused me, so that it was 
 evident enough to her that she had just recalled me 
 from a painful dream. 
 
 “ You are sad, seigneur,” she said, drawing a seat 
 close up beside me, and laying her small, clear, olive 
 hand upon mine. “ You are sad, and you do not tell 
 Miriam what you are sad about.” 
 
 “ Oh, you would not care to hear, Miriam,” I replied; 
 “ and could do me no good if you did hear.” 
 
 “ Oh, but I should care to hear,” she said, “ for I love 
 you very much, seigneur. I loved you from the first 
 moment I saw you, almost as much as — no, not so much 
 as I love — him.” 
 
 “ Were you going to say your father, Miriam?” I 
 asked. 
 
 “ No,” she said, “ not him. I was going to say — as 
 Martin Vern.” And the girl coloured a little as she 
 spoke ; but added, immediately, “ But he loves you, too, 
 and told me how kind you had been to him when he was 
 at the siege of Angouleme, and how you had given him 
 your hand to help him up into the breach, and how you 
 had carried him down in your arms when he was wounded, 
 and saved his life, and been to him like a brother; 
 which, for a lord and a soldier like you, he thought very 
 kind indeed.” 
 
 “ You seem to have talked very much about me, 
 Miriam,” I said. “ When was all this ? ” 
 
 17 
 
258 
 
 THE MAH AT ABMS J 
 
 “ Oh, it was when we were last in Paris,” replied the 
 girl ; “ when we were staying at the house of Levi, my 
 father’s cousin, who has become a Christian, you know ; 
 and then I would go and see the lady that you had 
 written to, which he told me about, and who had written 
 to you again, and sent it to my father’s house at Bor- 
 deaux, for the old merchant. So when the Baron de 
 Blancford wanted the Persian silver brocade for his wife, 
 I went with Martin Yern, that is, with the old merchant, 
 and saw the young lady, too, and spoke with her in the 
 cabinet behind the great saloon. I told her then, that 
 if she would write you a letter, and send it to Levi’s 
 house, it should be conveyed to you ; but I did not think 
 then that I should carry it myself.” 
 
 “And was it so the letter came to me?” I demanded. 
 “ I had fancied, Miriam, that your father had got it when 
 he was in the Protestant camp.” 
 
 “ Oh, no,” she replied ; “I carried it all the way in 
 my bosom. And now I wish you would tell me why 
 you are so sad, and why she looked so sad, too. Per- 
 haps I could do more than you know.” 
 
 “ Oh, no, Miriam,” I answered, “ you could do nothing, 
 my poor girl. That which makes me sad would need 
 a more skilful surgeon than you are to cure.” 
 
 She looked in my face for a moment as if to see 
 whether I was speaking plainly or metaphorically, and 
 she then cried, “ Ah, now I understand you. You love 
 her, and she loves you, and they will not give her to you 
 in marriage.” 
 
 “Ay, Miriam,” I answered, with a sigh, as she came 
 so near the truth, — »“ and they talk of giving her to 
 another.” 
 
 “To whom? to whom?” cried the girl, eagerly. “I 
 heard something once which makes me suspect.” 
 
 “Oh, no,” I replied, “you know him not,* Miriam. 
 His name is the Seigneur de Blaye.” 
 
 “ I hate him ! ” cried the girl, bounding up from her 
 seat, as if I had pronounced some talismanic word, — 
 “ I hate him ! ” He dared to take hold of me when my 
 father was gone to get him the money he wanted from 
 
250 
 
 OB, HENRI EE CEEONS. 
 
 the other room ; and he asked me if I would go and 
 live with him ; and when I told him no, I would rather 
 be waiting wench to a butcher’s wife, he struck me on 
 the face with his fingers, and called me by a name that 
 I must not speak. I never told my father, or I believe 
 he would have stabbed him ; but I hate him, and I 
 shall ever hate him. Oh, seigneur ! ” she continued, 
 turning towards me and clasping her hands together, 
 “ you have been very good and kind indeed to me and 
 mine, and to all that I ever heard mention your name. 
 It is such people as you who make us know what good 
 people there can be ; and I will try to show you that 
 there can be gratitude in a poor Jewish girl. I told 
 my father, when he knew the people intended to mur- 
 der him on the march from Jarnac, that if he would 
 let me go and speak to you, you would be kind to him. 
 He would not believe me for a long while ; but he said 
 that if you were, you would be the first Christian that 
 ever looked upon a Jew as anything but a dog. My 
 father, however, can be grateful, too, seigneur ; and, 
 though you may think that poor little Miriam has no 
 power, yet in this business she may have more power 
 than you know of.” 
 
 Our conversation went on for some time ; and the 
 girl, young as she was, spoke with a depth of feeling, 
 a tenderness, an experience of the world and the 
 world’s ways, which was very extraordinary, mingled 
 as it was with a sort of eager and imaginative wildness 
 of manner and language which, probably, she had 
 acquired in the somewhat wandering and irregular life 
 to which her father’s pursuits subjected her. I looked 
 upon the hopes and expectations that she tried to fill 
 me with, of being able to do something in my behalf, 
 as quite idle and vain ; but still the gratitude that she 
 showed was something pleasant to meet with, and I 
 sent her away with thanks, and many a kindly speech 
 in return. 
 
 At the village of Berny, a short distance from Paris, 
 the Jew, his daughter, and the innumerable packhorses 
 which followed him, were to part with their compa- 
 
2 GO 
 
 THE MAH AT AEMS ; 
 
 nions of the way, he proceeding to the capital, and we 
 by a side road to Champigny. He now, however, con- 
 sidered himself quite safe ; and when I had mounted 
 my horse to depart, he came up to the side of my 
 horse, followed by Miriam, and prayed a blessing from 
 God upon my onward journey. 
 
 “I have heard from Monsieur Arnon,” he said, in a 
 low voice, “ that the estate of Les Bois is yours, and 
 that for the time I am only to call you Monsieur Les 
 Bois; but whether you be at Champigny or at Les 
 Bois, I hope you will not refuse to let me within your 
 gates ; for you have shown me kindness such as I have 
 seldom found, and such as I shall never forget.” 
 
 Thus saying, he kissed my hand after his fashion, 
 and Miriam coming up did the same. There was some- 
 thing in the poor people’s gratitude that made my eyes 
 glisten, though they were Jews; and bidding them 
 adieu, I rode on. As I turned my horse into the road 
 to the right, I looked back, and saw that they were 
 standing before the inn-door gazing after me still. 
 
 CHAPTEB XIX. 
 
 I was well pleased to arrive at Champigny, and cer- 
 tainly a very beautiful and charming spot it was ; but 
 of course the sight of Les Bois was still more agreeable 
 to me as its proprietor. The chateau was a small 
 house built in the antique fashion, but still in the 
 most perfect repair ; certainly very much less than the 
 duke’s own mansion at Champigny, yet large enough 
 for my ambition. It was seated on a hill in the midst 
 of fine old woods, from which it derived its name ; 
 and there was an aspect of peace about it and calm 
 ancient tranquillity which was pleasant to the eye and 
 to the heart, after the scenes of anguish, care, and 
 excitement which war had lately presented to my 
 sight. The interior of the chateau was, as the Prince 
 
261 
 
 OR, HENRI EE CERONS. 
 
 d’Auvergne had told me, well furnished, and newly 
 furnished, throughout. To my eyes, indeed, it was 
 splendid; for in those days there was, perhaps, even 
 more than now, a marked difference in the grace, taste, 
 and execution of everything in the neighbourhood of 
 the capital, and in the remote provinces. 
 
 The good intendant of the Prince d’Auvergne in- 
 sisted upon taking me all over the chateau, and showing 
 me every hole and corner, though I was most anxious, 
 I confess, to go into Paris itself, and employ some 
 means for obtaining an interview with Louise. I did 
 not know well how to explain my inclinations to my 
 worthy companion, and to break the subject to him I 
 made some inquiries regarding the capital; but the 
 moment he heard that I had never seen Paris, nothing 
 would serve him but that I must go there immediately. 
 To his imagination it was the chief wonder of the 
 world, and, after descanting upon its merits, beauties,, 
 and excellences for half an hour, he said, “If it were 
 not presuming too far, my lord, I would propose to 
 accompany you thither immediately, and show you 
 some of the beauties of the place, though even to 
 notice them all would require many weeks, I might 
 say months.” 
 
 I instantly caught at this proposal, and mounting 
 fresh horses at Champigny, we rode on into the city, 
 where, giving our horses to the boys, we proceeded to 
 walk through the streets of the capital. At any other 
 moment, when my mind was not so occupied by one 
 predominant subject, everything that I saw would have 
 been a matter of interest to me. The long ranges of 
 shops covered over with awnings to keep the merchan- 
 dise there exposed from the sun and the air, the people 
 reading aloud pieces of poetry and satire at the corners 
 of the streets, the different shows and exhibitions that 
 attracted the sight at every step, — all would have 
 amused, detained, and interested me, but now my 
 great desire and object was to discover the abode of 
 the Baron de Blancford, and obtain some means of com- 
 municating with her I loved. The multitude of houses, 
 
262 
 
 THE MAH AT ABMS ; 
 
 and streets, and people, that increased upon me at every 
 minute, confused and puzzled me, and made me fancy 
 the attempt almost impracticable, not knowing the 
 address, and having no clue in such a labyrinth as 
 that. 
 
 Suddenly, however, I called to mind that from Miriam’s 
 account Martin Vern was still in the custom of visiting 
 the house of the Baron de Blancford ; and judging that 
 he as a great merchant must be known to everybody, I 
 asked Arnon the intendant if he could lead me to his 
 dwelling. 
 
 “ I do not know him,” said the intendant. “ Is he a 
 Huguenot? ” 
 
 “No,”! replied, with a smile at the expression of 
 horror that came over the man’s countenance on the 
 very idea of visiting a Huguenot in Paris. “ No, Mon- 
 sieur Arnon, he is a Catholic, and a great merchant, who 
 has money of mine in his hands.” 
 
 “ Oh, then the case is very different,” replied Arnon. 
 “We will inquire after him immediately.” And entering 
 a large goldsmith’s house by the door close to the shop, 
 he asked for Martin Vern, the merchant. 
 
 We had now no difficulty in finding the dwelling, 
 which was up a flight of steps, the goods not being ex- 
 posed in the streets as amongst the ordinary shopkeepers, 
 but spread out in rooms within doors. Neither good 
 Martin Vern, however, nor his son was to be found at 
 home, and I left a message under the name of Les Bois, 
 asking to see one or both of them at the chateau of 
 Champigny. 
 
 Although by this time the days had lengthened, and 
 we were in the height of summer, it was now time that 
 we should turn our steps homeward, as the distance we 
 had to go was nearly four leagues, and during the whole 
 of the following day I waited in anxious expectation for 
 the appearance of one of the two merchants. No one 
 came, however, and another and another day succeeded, 
 during which I scarcely stirred out, and left directions 
 for finding me whenever I did so. At the end of the 
 third day my patience became quite exhausted, and on 
 
0±t, HENBI 3)E CEBOtfS. 263 
 
 the following morning I begged Arnon to send off one 
 of the prince’s servants who knew the capital well, to ask 
 why Master Martin Yern had not been to Champigny. 
 Arnon did as I directed immediately ; and, on bearing 
 me the answer, which was that neither Martin Yern nor 
 his nephew had yet returned from Blois, where they 
 had gone to attend upon the king, he added, in order to 
 set my mind at rest upon the subject which he thought 
 troubled me, that I might make myself quite easy about 
 the money ; for that, having made inquiries, he found 
 the house of Martin Yern was one of the most wealthy 
 and respectable in Paris. 
 
 I could not help exclaiming, “ Pshaw ! it is not the 
 money, my good friend.” And it was evident from that 
 moment that Arnon’s curiosity was not a little excited 
 to find out what it could be that I sought with the mer- 
 chants, if it were not the money that they owed me. 
 My determination, however, was now taken to seek the 
 house of the Baron de Blancford myself ; but not all my 
 efforts could discover it, and it was equally in vain that 
 I attempted to find the abode of Solomon Ahar. That 
 he was going to lodge at the house of his cousin Levi, I 
 knew; but this cousin Levi was not to be discovered, 
 and on making inquiries concerning him, I was always 
 met by a demand of “ Levi who ? ” there being a thou- 
 sand persons in Paris of the name of Levi, but all with 
 some surname attached. 
 
 In the meantime, the news that daily came in from 
 the scene of war was anything but such as to give me 
 gratification. The feeble attack on Poitiers by the 
 Protestants ; the gallant defence of the young Duke of 
 Guise ; the siege of St. Jean d’Angely ; the death of 
 poor Martigue, whom I could not help regretting; the 
 fatal battle of Moncontour, which — although the defeat 
 of the Protestants was as complete, and the success of 
 the Catholics as surprising, as well need be — was mag- 
 nified in Paris in a very great degree ; all these things 
 grieved and pained me, while week after week went by 
 in fruitless inquiries; and, at length, with a sort of scorn 
 vf myself — which is a true part of misanthropy — for 
 
264 
 
 THE MIX AT AHMS; 
 
 giving a moment’s credit to the Jew’s professions of 
 gratitude, I sat me down, in bitterness of spirit, and tried 
 to fancy that I hated the whole human race. 
 
 The autumn of the year was now approaching ; there 
 could he little or no doubt that, during the ensuing win- 
 ter, the young Lord of Blaye would be free to return to 
 Paris, and pursue the project of marriage which was held 
 out to him ; and the thoughts of poor Louise, and the 
 vexations to which she would be subjected, tormented 
 me like an army of fiends, and reinforced themselves by 
 every power of imagination. 
 
 The news that St. Jean d’Angely had been recaptured 
 by the Protestants, and that the Prince d’Auvergne, 
 who had held it out for some time against them, had 
 been forced to capitulate for want of supplies, had 
 reached us some days, when, as I was sitting one 
 night in the cabinet at Champ, igny, I heard the clatter- 
 ing of horses’ feet in the court-yard below ; and in a 
 moment after, to my great astonishment, the prince 
 himself entered the room. He embraced ipe kindly ; 
 and after a few minutes’ conversation upon general 
 things, remarked that I neither looked well nor happy. 
 
 “ Come,” he said, “ De Cerons, tell me what is the 
 cause of this. I think by this time you may fully con- 
 fide in your friend.” 
 
 Before I could answer, one of his officers had entered 
 for some directions ; and while he gave them, I made up 
 my mind to unbosom my whole thoughts to him. In 
 the course of the evening I accordingly did so ; and, as 
 was much the character both of his father and himself, 
 he heard me out with scarcely any observation or reply. 
 
 When I had completely done, however, and he had a 
 complete view of my past life and present situation, he 
 said, “There are a good many strange parts in your 
 tale, De Cerons ; but neither you nor I, I fancy, know 
 so much of the laws as to be sure whether these acts of 
 your father and your cousin were legal. However, I 
 see it is not that which pains you now. It is the matter 
 of your fair cousin, and I grieve to say that any news I 
 may have for you is not calculated to soothe you. No 
 
265 
 
 OB, HENEX DE CEBONS. 
 
 wonder that you haye not found them at Paris, for they 
 are all still at Blois with the Court, which gladly keeps 
 your cousin from joining the admiral and the Prince de 
 Bearn. I saw them all there at a grand fete given by 
 the king, and talked for some time with Mademoiselle 
 de Blancford. I talked of you, De Cerons, so you may 
 suppose that she heard me willingly; and, indeed, it 
 was impossible to mistake her looks, ay, or even her 
 words, w r hen you were mentioned. If Monsieur de Blaye 
 were to marry her, he would certainly wed a woman, * 
 knowing that she loved another man. However, when - 
 the baron came ( up, too, I mentioned you to him, also, 
 and somewhat startled him, I believe, by calling you my 
 dear and most intimate friend. But he did not look 
 displeased, De Cerons, nor do I think that he bears any 
 ill-will towards you in his heart, though he be wayward 
 and moody, and entirely -ruled by that worst of all 
 women, his present wife.” 
 
 “ Was Monsieur de Blaye there ?” I demanded, some- 
 what sharply. 
 
 “ He was,” replied the prince ; “ and giving himself 
 out rather more decidedly than Monsieur de Blancford 
 seemed to like, I thought, as the promised husband of 
 your Louise.” 
 
 I started up with an exclamation and a threat that I 
 am now ashamed of. 
 
 “ Hush, hush,” cried the prince, with a reproving 
 smile : “ do not give way, my good friend. By this 
 conduct, he is doing himself more harm than good, with 
 the baron at least, for I heard him questioned upon the 
 subject; and, turning upon his heel with a sort of sneer, 
 he replied, ‘ Monsieur de Blaye is somewhat sanguine in 
 his nature.’ However, I did not forget you, De Cerons, 
 and I told the whole story to my father, who, of course, 
 is more competent to act than I am. I do not very well 
 know what my father did ; but I see the result, which 
 is, that Monsieur de Blaye has received a high appoint- 
 ment which he solicited more than a year ago, namely, 
 to go with our military embassy to the court of the 
 sultan. This was done, I am sure, for the purpose of 
 
266 
 
 THE HAH AT ABMS j 
 
 removing him for a time from the scene, and of allowing 
 
 you to have a fair opportunity ” 
 
 “ But how, my dear prince,” I said, “ can I have a 
 fair opportunity when I am held a prisoner here, un- 
 able to advance myself, or signalize my name ? ” 
 
 “You shall hear, De Cerons, you shall hear,” replied 
 the prince. “ My father was not a man to forget any 
 point under such circumstances. He empowered me to 
 offer you your liberty freely and without ransom, upon 
 one condition, that you should go to join the Prince of 
 Orange or Prince Ludovic, who are now waging war in 
 the Low Countries, my father undertaking to obtain for 
 you a high command in their army. You would thus 
 be enabled to distinguish yourself in a Protestant cause 
 without bearing arms against your native country. 
 You would not be further from Mademoiselle de Blanc- 
 ford, nor even so far, as in carrying on this fatal con- 
 test in Guyenne or Poitou ; you would be serving the 
 king rather than opposing him, for it is his wish to give 
 some support to the Prince of Orange ; and my father 
 only requires you to remain in the Low Countries till a 
 peace is established in the internal affairs of France, 
 which, we trust, will soon be the case ; he, at the same 
 time, promising to you that you shall have permission 
 to return to France freed from all restriction, the 
 moment that it is ascertained that Monsieur de Blaye 
 is about to return from the East.” 
 
 “ Your father, my lord,” I said, “ is most noble, gene- 
 rous, and considerate; and, foreseeing everything that 
 I could desire or wish, of course, not only prevents the 
 possibility of my refusing such an offer, but binds me 
 to him by gratitude for ever.” 
 
 “I told him that such would be the case,” replied 
 the prince ; “ but, alas ! De Cerons, an unexpected 
 event is likely to obstruct all our proceedings. The 
 embassy was to set off in ten days, and everything was 
 arranged. Monsieur de Blaye, though looking very much 
 mortified when he heard his appointment, of course 
 could not refuse it; and I proposed to stay another 
 week at Blois, and then come to you and confer with 
 
OB, HENBI DE CEBOftS. 26? 
 
 you regarding the whole affair, when, suddenly, one 
 evening, as I was returning home, I met with three 
 women in the street, the principal of whom, — for the 
 other two were evidently servants — asked to speak with 
 me without taking off her mask. I had a number of 
 people about me, but it was close to the door of the 
 hotel; and bringing her into the porter’s chamber, 
 asked her to explain what it was she wanted. As soon 
 as we were alone, she took off the mask and showed me 
 the face of the Jewish girl, Solomon Ahar’s daughter, 
 whom I found talking with you one day at Jarnac. She 
 told me at the same time that she came to speak to me 
 about you, and seemed to know your whole history, and 
 every secret of your heart. But to the facts that she told 
 me : they were these, that Monsieur de Blaye had gone 
 straight to the king, and had asked and obtained leave to 
 remain six weeks in Paris before he set out, for the ex- 
 press purpose of concluding his marriage before he went. 
 The baron, the girl said, had not given his absolute con- 
 sent, but made it dependent upon his daughter’s incli- 
 nation, but the baroness had positively promised that 
 the baron and herself would at least sign the contract of 
 marriage, even if their daughter, as she said, preferred 
 waiting till the return of Monsieur de Blaye. Should 
 they sign it,” D’Auvergne continued, “you may consider 
 your Louise as lost to you for ever ; for her father puts 
 it out of his own power to dispose of her hand, or with- 
 draw his consent. The Jewess w T as really agitated about 
 the whole business ; and she made some wild exclama- 
 tions, declaring that she would stop it, if I could get 
 permission for her father and some persons who have 
 been trading in partnership with him, to quit the Court, 
 where they have been detained for several weeks in 
 regard to negotiations now going on for loans of money. 
 This was easily done, as the thing was nearly con- 
 cluded; and, as soon as I had seen this arranged, I 
 came away hither, with my father’s consent, to consult 
 with you in regard to what can be done.” 
 
 “You are most kind,” I said. “How can I ever 
 
288 
 
 THE MAK AT ABM 9 ; 
 
 thank you, D’Auvergne? but, alas! I fear that I am 
 doomed to misery and to despair.” 
 
 “Not so, not quite so,” replied the prince. “As I 
 came hither from Blois, I considered the matter ma- 
 turely; and we have to recollect that you, as a near 
 relation of the lady, have every right to oppose the sig- 
 nature of the contract, if you think fit so to do. In the 
 first place, you must make perfectly sure that she herself 
 is brought to yield by no means of persuasion or intimi- 
 dation that can be used towards her, and, at the same 
 time, things must be suffered to take their course till 
 the contract is on the very eve of being signed by the 
 baron. You must then, by some form of law, which I 
 can inquire into, give him formal intimation of your 
 opposition, which will consequently be brought before 
 the courts. The fact is, you are fighting for delay ; for 
 your opposition against her own father cannot of course 
 be successful, and you may, perhaps, be fined in some 
 small sum for having made it; but long before that 
 time this young libertine, for such he is, must be in 
 Constantinople, and the matter secure.” 
 
 I mused for a moment in thought, the intensity of 
 which approached to agony ; I saw before me the blast- 
 ing of all my best hopes, and I felt at that moment 
 more than I had ever yet done, not only how deeply, 
 how truly, how ardently I loved my poor Louise, but 
 how completely and thoroughly, without my knowing 
 it, her image had been mingled with all my dreams and 
 aspirations, — how intimately the thought of winning her 
 had mingled with all the motives for energy, exertion, 
 and endeavour. I felt at that moment that to lose her, 
 was to lose my whole hold of life — my whole induce- 
 ment to struggle onward in the course I was pursuing. 
 There was no scheme so wild, so improbable, so daring, 
 that I would not have undertaken at that moment to 
 frustrate machinations that could but tend to her misery 
 and my own : there was no step so dangerous to myself, 
 even had it been planted on the crumbling edge of an 
 open grave, that I would not have taken to make her 
 
OK, HEHBI EE CEBOtfS. 269 
 
 mine. Yet, as I mused, I could not help thinking, — 
 I may say I could not help being convinced, — that the 
 scheme of the Prince d’Auvergne was likely to be 
 frustrated by some impetuous act of the Baron de 
 Blancford. 
 
 “ With many men,” I said, “ the whole might succeed 
 admirably; but I, who know his determined and pas- 
 sionate character well, feel perfectly certain, that, if 
 there be a way of frustrating us, he will find it.” 
 
 ‘‘I see none,” replied the prince dauphin, “if we can 
 by any means insure that the signing of the contract is 
 put off to the last moment. However, De Cerons, the 
 whole party are coming to Paris immediately ; the J ew, 
 and the merchants who are with him, will most probably 
 arrive to-morrow morning, and your cousin w r ith his 
 train on the morning after. Obstacles of various kinds, 
 I am sure, w T ill keep this Monsieur de Blaye for a day 
 or two behind them ; and let us do the best we can in 
 the meanwhile. At all events, we shall gain some in- 
 telligence ; and what I should propose is, to ride out 
 the day after to-morrow on the road to meet them, and, 
 bringing them to your chateau of Les Bois, give the 
 baron a little entertainment and repose ere he goes into 
 Paris.” 
 
 I smiled at the thought, saying, “ I much fear, my 
 excellent friend, that you will find the baron would 
 neither accept the invitation, nor thank the giver.” 
 
 “ Pshaw ! De Cerons,” replied the prince; “ you are 
 older than I am in years, but younger a great deal in 
 experience of the world. The baron undervalued and 
 undervalues you simply because he thought and thinks 
 you poor. He thought you the creature of his bounty ; he 
 will now come here and find you the creature of your 
 own sword, renowned in arms, independent in fortune, 
 and seeking no aid from him or any man. His view 
 will be quite different now, depend upon it. As for the 
 arrangements of your little regale, leave that all to me : 
 you, on your part, cast off the rough and somewhat 
 negligent apparel in which your despondency has brought 
 you to remain, trim your beard, bring forth your best 
 
270 
 
 THE MAN AT ABMS ; 
 
 brocade, and look as gay and gallant as if you were 
 going into the tiltyard.” 
 
 It is needless to pause upon all the minute incidents 
 which took place at this time. Martin Vern and his 
 nephew had scarcely arrived in Paris, before they were 
 at Champigny, bringing with them Miriam, who seemed 
 to have her own will with ail of them. Not knowing 
 that the prince was there, I found that his high rank 
 and connection with the royal blood of France somewhat 
 abashed and confounded the two merchants. He, on his 
 part, did not so much unbend as, perhaps, I had ex- 
 pected ; but he treated them kindly and without haugh- 
 tiness, though with dignity : but he soon left them alone 
 with me ; and a few words showed me that both the 
 elder and the younger Martin Vern — what between all 
 they had observed of the conduct of myself and Louise, 
 and the information of the young Jewess — were per- 
 fectly aware of how we stood towards each other, and 
 took a kindly interest in my fate. Miriam, for her part, 
 seemed to me to have gone quite mad. She said it was 
 just what she had wished, all that she could wish, that 
 had happened and would happen ; and seemed quite as 
 happy and elevated, as I was grieved and depressed. 
 Her conduct somewhat annoyed me ; and, after some 
 short conversation about the money, which I still deter- 
 mined to leave in the hands of Martin Vern, I saw 
 them depart without any effort to detain them. 
 
 On the following morning, with a splendid train, com- 
 prising at least tw r enty persons, dressed, as far at least 
 as the prince himself was concerned, in the height of 
 the then existing fashion, D’Auvergne and myself set 
 out upon the road towards Blois ; and after riding for 
 some eight miles on a fine autumnal morning, we came 
 within sight of a large party advancing slowly ; which 
 proved, as we expected, to be that of the Baron de 
 Blancford. 
 
 Putting spurs to our horses’ sides, we rode up at a 
 quick pace ; and the baron thought fit, in those dan- 
 gerous times, to halt his troop upon seeing such a body 
 of horsemen coming down upon him. His surprise 
 
OB, HENEI DE CEB02STS. 271 
 
 when he beheld me and the prince dauphin, however, I 
 shall not easily forget ; nor need I say much more of 
 this interview, as far as it regarded him, than that I 
 readily perceived that the prince’s view of the baron’s 
 character was correct ; and that I had grown wonder- 
 fully in his opinion since I had ceased to need his assist- 
 ance. The fete at Les Bois was accepted at once ; but it 
 required some private persuasion on the part of the 
 prince dauphin, to make him believe that I was really 
 the lord of the estate to which he was now conducted. 
 The baroness, on her part, gazed at me with some sur- 
 prise ; and throughout the day, I forced myself to show 
 her as much civility and attention as possible : but 
 there were some others in that group, where there were 
 deeper interests at work. Louise met me with eyes 
 full of deep and intense affection ; and with a manner 
 from which the sudden surprise seemed to have taken all 
 confidence, but not all tenderness ; while her two bro- 
 thers, whom I had not seen for a long time, clung 
 round me as if their affections had found no object 
 since we parted. 
 
 In the course of the day I had an opportunity erf 
 speaking more than once with Louise alone ; and, in a 
 few brief words, I gave her an account of all that was 
 taking place, regarding our plans and purposes. Her 
 only reply was by words of affection that can never 
 pass from my heart ; and by the solemn assurance, that 
 no power on earth should ever make her consent to 
 become the wife of the Seigneur de Blaye. The day 
 went over, in short, as brightly as it was possible under 
 such circumstances ; and during the three weeks that 
 followed, everything seemed to combine to favour the 
 plan which the prince had laid down for me. 
 
 It fortunately occurred that I never met with the 
 Seigneur de Blaye during the whole of that period. 
 Such a meeting could but have been followed by one 
 result, and that result must have been fatal to myself,— 
 for it must be remembered that I was a Protestant, and 
 he was a Catholic ; and the survivor in a duel, under 
 
272 
 
 THE MAN AT AEMS ; 
 
 such circumstances, could only expect death. My visits 
 to the hotel of Monsieur de Blancford were generally 
 short; for I soon saw that, if I did not find Louise 
 when first I went, means were takeft.to prevent her 
 appearing while I was there. The barofi, however, wa$ 
 all condescension, and declared that he was proud of 
 his cousin. The baroness, on her part, seemed to me 
 to <make herself somewhat more tender and amiable 
 than was needful. 
 
 • But at length the fatal minute, which was to dissipate 
 such a state of things altogether, arrived; and jil'st on 
 the day preceding that which was fixed ^ultimately as 
 the last for Monsieur de Blaye’s stay in France, a mes- 
 senger from the baron invited me in courteous terms, 
 to come and witness his signature of the ^pntract ;of 
 marriage between my cousin, Louise, and the Seigneur 
 de Blaye. We had already ordered a notary to prepare 
 in due form my opposition to the baron’s signature, 
 upon the plea both of relationship, and never having 
 been consulted ; and of having a prior claim to the hand 
 of Mademoiselle de Blancford. The note requested the 
 honour of the prince dauphin’s company on the same 
 occasion, as my friend ; and, on reading it, he exclaimed, 
 “ Oh, certainly, certainly ! I will go, De Cerons ; and 
 not only that, but we will take a sufficient body of re- 
 tainers with us to guard against all chances ; and we 
 will have likewise our own notary, to take act of your 
 opposition.” 
 
 All this being settled, we set out and reached the 
 house at the hour appointed. I was somewhat sur- 
 prised to find, going up the stairs, good Martin Vern, 
 accompanied by a boy carrying several packages, and 
 another man not so burdened. On entering the great 
 saloon, we found the baron, with Monsieur de Blaye, the 
 baroness, and some of her kindred, both male and 
 female ; besides whom, the room contained Louise, with 
 the tears already in her eyes, and several notaries and 
 lawyers. Immediately on our entrance, Monsieur de 
 
OB, HEKEI EE CEEOHS. 273 
 
 Blaye came forward with his hand extended towards 
 me, as if imagining that we were the best possible 
 friends ; but I drew myself up and bowed stiffly, and he 
 fell back with a heavy frown. 
 
 The baron looked somewhat surprised; but the 
 presence of the Prince d’Auvergne acted as a restraint 
 upon him, and he welcomed his distinguished guest 
 with courtesy, if not with so free and unrestrained a 
 demeanour as usual. He looked two or three times 
 suspiciously at the notary who accompanied us, and 
 who, as one of the most distinguished of his class, re- 
 ceived far more attention and marks of reverence from 
 his brethren, than either D’Auvergne or I wished or 
 expected. Sweetmeats and some choice wines, however, 
 were handed round before the destined explanation be- 
 gun ; but at length the baron, prefacing the matter by a 
 little eulogy upon Monsieur de Blaye, which had well 
 nigh made some of those who knew him laugh, directed 
 the contract to be read. 
 
 That document began by setting forth that, “ as an 
 alliance was intended at a future period, between the 
 Seigneur de Blaye and Mademoiselle de Blancford, it 
 had been judged expedient that the Baron de Blancford 
 should sign the contract to that effect, previous to the 
 departure of the said seigneur for foreign lands ; and 
 therefore,” &c. It went on to express the usual agree- 
 ments in such cases, but took care to omit the express 
 consent of the bride ; and also made no provision for 
 the freedom of her religion. She was declared heiress 
 of the lands of Blancford and Cerons, in the event of 
 her two brothers’ death without children; and the baron 
 promised with her a dowry, which to me, who knew his 
 habits and expense, and in some degree the true nature 
 of his property, seemed enormous. 
 
 As soon as the whole was read, he took the pen to 
 sign the contract ; and I could see my poor Louise dtasp 
 her two hands together, and raise her eyes to me, with 
 a look of anguish and supplication. 
 
 At that moment, the notary we had brought, who had 
 hitherto been consulting with the others, stepped for* 
 
 13 
 
274 
 
 THE MAN AT Aft MS ; 
 
 ward, and laid his hand upon the spot where the baroa 
 was about to sign, saying, — 
 
 “Your pardon, Monsieur le Baron de Blancford; I 
 think that Monsieur de Cerons has something to say in 
 this matter, and a short paper to read, to which I beg 
 your attention ; and of which, gentlemen, you will all 
 bear witness.” 
 
 He then handed me the paper, saying at the same 
 time in a whisper, “Neither more nor less.” 
 
 I followed his directions to the letter, and read the 
 paper of objections through, without pause. When I 
 came to the end, however, and found there stated that I 
 would sustain my right upon the grounds mentioned, 
 and upon several other legal grounds of objection, to all 
 and sundry parts and clauses of the said contract, in 
 warranty of which I produced as my surety the Prince 
 Dauphin d’Auvergne, I laid, I know not well why, con- 
 siderable emphasis upon the words “ several other legal 
 grounds of objection.” 
 
 At the same time I remarked the baron turn very 
 pale ; but he recovered himself immediately, and with 
 an angry gesture exclaimed to the notary, who had con- 
 tinued to hold his hand on the paper, “ Remove your 
 hand, Maitre Jean! I will sign it at all risks.” 
 
 “It is useless, Monsieur le Baron,” replied one of the 
 other lawyers ; “ after this solemn protest in due and 
 legal form, no act that you can do in this matter is law- 
 ful until the parliament shall have considered the 
 matter to render justice therein.” 
 
 “ But I shall take care to render justice to myself,” 
 exclaimed Monsieur de Blaye, advancing towards me 
 furiously : “we all know that you lawyers love to see 
 things plunged into the quagmire of the courts, round 
 the edges of which you toads sit and croak at leisure ; 
 but gentlemen have a shorter means of settling such 
 transactions, and to such, Monsieur de Cerons, do I 
 appeal. Nor, sir, must there be delay of any kind. 
 To-morrow I depart from Paris : the rest of this day is 
 ©ur own.” 
 
 “ Oh ! no, no ! ” cried the voice of Louise, while, with 
 
OH, ftENM DE CERONS. 275 
 
 her arms extended towards me as if for protection, she 
 ran forward. 
 
 But ere she reached me, she fell fainting on the 
 ground, and the baroness, with other ladies present, 
 prevented my approach. All was now a scene cf con- 
 fusion ; the gentlemen of the party came forward— each 
 talking, each offering his opinion — towards the spot 
 where De Blaye and myself stood face to face, and the 
 baron seemed divided between us and his daughter, for 
 whom I saw that he was not without feeling, though he 
 struggled not to show it. 
 
 In the midst of this Babel, however, the clear fine- 
 toned voice of the prince dauphin suddenly made itself 
 heard, saying, — 
 
 “ Your pardon, gentlemen, your pardon ! I have one 
 word to say ; but that one word is an important one, 
 which must settle all this matter between my excellent 
 good acquaintance, Monsieur de Blaye, and my friend, 
 Monsieur de Cerons.” 
 
 All were instantly silent, except De Blaye himself, 
 who repeated more than once, in a tone of authority, a 
 command to keep silence, and let the prince speak. 
 When he stopped and bowed, D Auvergne went on, 
 “ What I have to say, De Cerons, is, that you will be 
 good enough to remember you are my father’s prisoner, 
 and, therefore, can lie under a challenge from no man.* 
 Monsieur de Blaye, I must call upon you to retract 
 your challenge, as no man of honour can offer one to a 
 gentleman incapable of accepting it.” 
 
 De Blaye, who was both really enraged and really 
 brave, blustered a good deal at this notification, and 
 said something rather offensive to the prince about his 
 father, the duke, being afraid of losing my ransom. 
 D’Auvergne answered coolly, however, saying, “ That 
 is not his fear or mine, Monsieur de Blaye ; but our 
 apprehension might well be lest the Catholic army might 
 lose a very tolerable soldier and brave young gentleman 
 in yourself ; because, as we all well know, Monsieur de 
 
 * Such was the law of arms. 
 
276 The Mak at arms; 
 
 Cerons would kill you like a rat. Come, De Cerons, 
 I must beg you to accompany me.” 
 
 If the first part of the prince’s speech had pleased 
 Monsieur de Blaye, and made him simper and look 
 modest, the unpleasant simile in the latter part caused 
 him to swell and colour with anger. But D’Auvergne 
 took no further notice ; the fact of my not being at 
 liberty was without reply ; and, after one look to my 
 poor Louise, I quitted the room. Martin Vern was at 
 the door, and to him the prince whispered a word as we 
 passed. The merchant made a lowly inclination of the 
 head, and, mounting our horses, we rode away. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 I had remarked particularly, in the painful interview 
 just past, that neither good old La Tour, nor the two 
 dear boys, who were daily growing up more and more 
 like their angel mother, had been present ; but I learned 
 afterwards that many painful efforts had been previously 
 made to induce Louise to wed a man she abhorred, and 
 that her brothers had broken forth with somewhat rash 
 expressions of indignation, while La Tour had remon- 
 strated in milder but as forcible terms. The conse- 
 quence had been that the baron had sent them all three 
 to a distance ; and probably was not a little glad, wdien 
 the scene terminated as it did, that he had taken that 
 precaution. I received from him that night a threaten- 
 ing note ; but it was so worded as evidently to court a 
 lengthened reply ; and, after pondering over it for some 
 moments, I showed it to the prince, who came in at the 
 time. He read it attentively; but wise beyond his 
 years, he returned it, saying, — 
 
 “ Keep that note, De Cerons ; and if you will take 
 my advice, reply but vaguely, and still as shortly as pos- 
 sible.” 
 
 I did take his advice, and to all the haughty demands 
 
277 
 
 OB, MENEI BE CEKONS. 
 
 of how I dared to offer opposition to his disposal of his 
 own child, and his own property, I replied merely that 
 I had acted as I doubted not would be found just in a 
 court of law ; but, at the same time, I added — as it was 
 my first wish not to irritate the father of her I sought to 
 obtain — all that was kind and deferential towards him- 
 self. 
 
 D’Auvergne approved highly of my note ; but as he 
 gave it back to me, he placed his hand kindly upon my 
 arm, and said, “And now, De Cerons, remember our 
 compact. You must, after all this business, go imme- 
 diately into the Low Countries, upon the conditions I 
 stated. For your own safety I say you must, for your 
 stay in Paris as a known and marked Pluguenot will be 
 most dangerous ; but you must also do so for our sake. 
 My father, as well as myself, wishes you every success in 
 your suit ; but remember, we must not be found taking 
 any undue advantage either of De Blaye or Monsieur de 
 Blancford ; all that we wish is to give you a fair chance, 
 and as soon as we have the positive assurance that the 
 former is fairly gone from Paris, you must go and win 
 honours and renown with the bright hope of obtaining 
 her you love.” 
 
 I felt myself bound in honour to follow his injunc- 
 tions to the letter, and only required one day to prepare, 
 and to ascertain that the Seigneur de Blaye had actually 
 departed. Much business, however, remained to be 
 done in the meantime. I had to write to the Admiral 
 de Coligny, giving him information of the conditions 
 that were imposed upon me, and begging him to trans- 
 mit whatever money of mine remained in his hands, 
 when convenience served, to good Martin Vern. I had 
 to write to Moric Endem, giving him, as far as it was 
 needful, orders to command my troop in the service of 
 the Protestant princes, and I had to buy all those neces- 
 sary equipments for my journey and for active service, 
 few of which I now possessed. The attendants that 1 
 had brought with me were all I could expect to obtain, 
 as few in Paris were willing to own themselves of the 
 poor and persecuted sect 
 
278 
 
 THE MAH AT AEMS ; 
 
 On the following morning early, then, I rode into 
 Paris, and went straight to the house of Martin Vern ; 
 but there I was directed to seek him at the dwelling of 
 Levi Judi, the great goldsmith. When I reached the 
 house, I found a number of persons whom I knew col- 
 lected together, and talking earnestly, in a small dark 
 room. There were the two Christian merchants, Solo- 
 mon Ahar, and his daughter Miriam ; but, besides 
 these, was Levi, himself, the converted Jew, who was 
 speaking when I came in, and suddenly stopped. They 
 w r ere all evidently rejoicing over some event, which I 
 afterwards found was the success of my opposition to 
 the young lord of Blaye ; and I now learned that he 
 had been obliged to depart by daybreak that morning, 
 letters of rebuke having been sent from Blois for having 
 already lingered too long. 
 
 I thought Miriam’s satisfaction would have exceeded 
 all bounds; and a slight degree of discomfort which I 
 remarked in the demeanour of the younger Martin Vern 
 at the sight of her evident regard for me, first gave me 
 a suspicion of matters which were going on in their 
 hearts, perhaps as yet unknown to either. 
 
 After some conversation upon the chief topic of all 
 my thoughts, I took the good merchant aside ; and, 
 telling him the destiny that awaited me, I begged him 
 to procure, as reasonably as possible, all I stood in need 
 of before night. I also told him, that, with the excep- 
 tion of what my equipment might cost, I should leave 
 all T had in his hands, having plenty by me for my 
 journey; and I then besought him, if he obtained any 
 speech with my sweet Louise alone, to tell her that I 
 loved her ever, and would never cease to seek her hand 
 so long as I had life. 
 
 He mused for some time over what I said, committed 
 all my orders to a note-book, and then said, in his calm 
 and business-like tone, “I will do all this as far as 
 possible, seigneur, and will be at Champigny with you 
 to-night ; but I have a request to make which you may 
 think a strange one for a poor merchant like myself. 
 It is, that if ever you be placed in difficulties again, 
 
279 
 
 OK, HE3TEI DE CEKONS. 
 
 regarding this transaction between your noble cousin, 
 the baron, and Monsieur de Blaye, you would give some 
 of us instant and full intelligence ; for, though we be 
 merely citizens, we have some say in many families ; and 
 perhaps, had not your opposition of yesterday morning 
 been successful, Martin Yern might not have been upon 
 the stairs for nothing.” 
 
 I pressed him much to explain what he meant, bufe 
 he would not ; and promising, in return for the interest 
 he showed in me, to place the confidence he required in 
 him, I left him and went back to Champigny. I found 
 the prince dauphin busily writing when I arrived, with 
 several other letters before him sealed with various 
 different seals. When he had ended those that he him- 
 self was employed upon, he gave them all to me. 
 
 “ These, De Cerons,” he said, “ are letters from my 
 father, and from some of the ministers of the king, to 
 different princes and nobles in the Low Countries and 
 on the Khenish frontier of Germany ; two amongst them 
 being to the Prince of Orange. They will, beyond all 
 doubt, procure you every opportunity, and you will do 
 the rest to raise yourself still higher than you yet have 
 done. This, which I have written, is to the Count de 
 Bergh, to whom I once did some kindness ; and this, in 
 case of extreme need, is to the Duke of Alva. I mean 
 by extreme need, that you should use it in case your 
 life is in danger from some of Alva’s proceedings. He 
 is a nobleman of a high heart and gallant character ; 
 but the streams of Toledo which harden steel to such 
 a temper, have not left his heart altogether untouched 
 by their influence. At the sight of this, however, he 
 will free you, as he is bound to do ; and now, De 
 Cerons, if I can at any future time serve, aid, or befriend 
 you, call upon me instantly as you would upon a 
 brother ; and depend upon it that I will give you in- 
 formation, even should you be at the other end of the 
 earth, the moment there is a whisper of your rival’s 
 return.” 
 
 I thanked him, as may be supposed, and the conver- 
 sation that thus coipmenced went on to touch upon a 
 
280 
 
 THE MAN AT ABMS ; 
 
 thousand things, in regard to all of which his kindness 
 of heart and soundness of judgment made me but ad- 
 mire and love him more and more. 
 
 At night, nearly at ten o’clock, Martin Vern himself 
 arrived with horses loaded with all that I required, but 
 there was one small note amongst the rest of the things 
 delivered to me, far more valuable to me than anything 
 else that he brought with him. It was from Louise, 
 and very short ; but, oh, how sweet it was to me to read ! 
 
 “Dear, dear Henri! a thousand thanks, a thousand 
 blessings on your head for saving me from distraction. 
 I am better now— -I am well now. They know your love 
 for me — they now know mine for you, and they will find 
 neither fail I am sure. The worst is over. They can- 
 not shake me. I am yours for ever. 
 
 “ Louise.” 
 
 The account given me by Martin Vern was even 
 more cheering than the letter of Louise herself ; he had 
 seen her, he said, and spoken with her long in her 
 chamber. During the whole of the preceding day she 
 had been so ill that the baron had become alarmed and 
 grieved, and, in order to make some atonement, had sent 
 for jewels and rich clothes as gifts to his daughter. It 
 showed how little he knew her nature. With Louise, 
 one kind word would have been worth all the jewels 
 upon earth. 
 
 After speaking of her for some time, the good mer- 
 chant turned to other matters, and not only gave me 
 the long-delayed acknowledgment of the sums of mine 
 he had in hand, but pointed out means by which I 
 might be enabled to obtain money, should I need it, in 
 any of the great towns which I was likely to visit. My 
 equipment was now complete, and on the following 
 morning at daybreak I began my journey, proposing in 
 the first place to seek the Prince of Orange. The kind- 
 ness of the prince dauphin showed itself to the last 
 moment, and he was up and out to see me depart, em« 
 
OB, HENBI DE CEBOKS, 281 
 
 bracing me ere I mounted my horse as if he had been 
 my brother. 
 
 I found the Prince of Orange labouring hard to gather 
 a sufficient army on the German side of the Khine, to 
 support the insurgent Protestants of the Low Countries ; 
 and as he himself, and his brother, Count Ludovic, had 
 been much with our own troops in France, my name 
 was not unknown to him. He received me kindly and 
 gladly ; but there was about him a sort of cold and sus- 
 picious reserve, which, doubtless, was very needful, but 
 which had a tendency to check attachment in the out- 
 set ; and, had it not been for his great wisdom, skill, 
 courage, and determination, which were already well 
 known, one would have been inclined to say that he was 
 less calculated than almost any other man on earth to 
 sustain the character of a popular leader. 
 
 The great difference, however, which exists between 
 the mere capricious outbreak of popular discontent, and 
 the determined resistance to insufferable oppression, is 
 shown in nothing more strongly than in the choice of 
 leaders. The fiery, impetuous, loud-tongued demagogue 
 does well enough for the one, but the calm, cool, 
 powerful-minded statesman must be sought for the 
 other. 
 
 The Prince of Orange gave me authority and com- 
 mand, but it was long ere he trusted me ; and I could 
 often see, that, in conversing with me upon any in- 
 different subject, he watched every word that fell from 
 me, every look, every gesture; but it was the same 
 with others ; and till he was perfectly satisfied with his 
 own knowledge of the man, he never trusted at all ; nor 
 even when he was, did he trust entirely. 
 
 The first proof of the degree of confidence that he at 
 length placed in me, was rather diplomatic than military. 
 His movements had been retarded by a thousand adverse 
 circumstances, and he sent me on into Holland to com- 
 municate with Sonnoy, and to do as much as possible 
 to keep up the spirits of the Dutch malcontents. From 
 Holland I had to make a tour through Utrecht, Guel- 
 derland, and Friesland, and was, on the whole, far more 
 
282 
 
 THE MAN AT ABMS ; 
 
 successful than I had expected. On my return t!) the 
 prince I found him well pleased with what I had done, 
 and on making my report of some of my proceedings I 
 saw a quiet smile curl his lip, which made me stop 
 suddenly. 
 
 “ You wish to know why I smile, De Cerons,” he 
 said : 4 ‘ it is because you have done exactly what I ex- 
 pected, and what no hackneyed diplomatist would have 
 done. I have often remarked that in rapid negotiations 
 a man of strong natural sense but little experienced in 
 intrigue, puts to fault a w T hole host of old politicians. 
 If they had time to discover his true character, the 
 result would be lost ; hut, as it is, they attribute to expe- 
 rience that which is merely the result of good sense, and 
 puzzle themselves to discover motives, overstepping the 
 true ones that he lays before them. However, De 
 Cerons,” he continued, “I have good news for you — 
 news which, as a Protestant and a Frenchman, you 
 will be glad to hear. Peace is concluded in France ; 
 and the secret assurances of support from King Charles 
 which you brought me, and which I did not trust, are 
 thus confirmed.” 
 
 He then went on to give me a full account of all the 
 events which had taken place in France since I left him ; 
 events which had reached me only in rumours during 
 my journey. 
 
 We were all deceived by the fair aspect of events. 
 The military preparations of the Protestants of the Low 
 Countries went on rapidly ; town after town revolted 
 against the tyranny of Alva. Where leaders and assist- 
 ance were wanted, the Prince of Orange despatched 
 them with all speed from his camp, and my military life 
 again began. 
 
 On it, however, I need not dwell ; the general events 
 of the times are written in general histories, and my own 
 individual career offered nothing but the usual occur- 
 rences in the life of a soldier who, not naturally timid, 
 has every motive to daring exertion. I was not less 
 active or less brave than others, and there was no one 
 more fortunate than myself. Honours, rewards, and 
 
283 
 
 OB, HE5BI BE CEEO^S. 
 
 recompenses flowed in upon me rapidly ; the news that 
 I daily received from France was most joyful ; the Pro- 
 testants were not only treated with gentleness, but with 
 especial favour ; the admiral ruled the court of France, 
 and a regular French army was promised to co-operate 
 with the Prince of Orange. So far, indeed, was this pro- 
 ceeding carried, that by one and the same courier I 
 received news that Count Ludovic had been sent to 
 maintain a correspondence with the Protestants of 
 Flanders, tidings that he had captured Mons, and a 
 commission for myself under the hand of the King of 
 France, to raise a regiment of Protestant soldiery for 
 the service of the Flemish insurgents. 
 
 It was now full spring in the year 1672, and as soon 
 as I showed the commission I had received to the Prince 
 of Orange, he exclaimed,— 
 
 “ If this man is deceiving us, De Cerons, he forgets no 
 means to blind the eyes of all. However, we must take 
 advantage of the opportunity, at all events, whether it 
 be afforded for the purpose of deceiving us or not. Are 
 you willing, De Cerons, to take the risk of a hazardous 
 journey to join my brother in Mons, to tell him that the 
 Duke of Alva will certainly besiege him, and that I as 
 certainly will march to his relief without the loss of a 
 moment ; then to hasten on yourself into France, and, 
 raising a regiment, to bring it to our aid ? ” 
 
 It may easily be supposed that I did not hesitate ; 
 and, with a train which had now been increased again 
 to about twenty men, I set off for Mons. I reached it 
 some time before the siege commenced, and was received 
 with joy by the gallant and enterprising Prince of Nas- 
 sau, who that very day took me round the fortifications, 
 and entertained me at supper ; perhaps making a little 
 more of my arrival than the event warranted, in order to 
 raise the spirits of the garrison and inhabitants. 
 
 After supper, torches were waiting to light me home 
 to the quarters prepared for me ; and, accompanied by 
 one of the count’s officers, I was proceeding through the 
 streets, when we were met by a small party of soldiery, 
 who stopped to look after us. The next moment I 
 
284 
 
 THE MAH AT ABMS ; 
 
 heard my own name pronounced aloud, and a young 
 officer, running after us, cast his arms affectionately 
 round me. What was my surprise to behold my young 
 cousin, Charles ! He followed me to my quarters ; and 
 I now learned that Albert, as well as himself, unable 
 any longer to bear the tyranny of their step-mother, 
 and the daily disgrace of their father, had quitted their 
 paternal roof, and, with the young Prince of Nassau, had 
 thrown themselves into the city of Mons. There they 
 had met with a part of my old band, commanded by 
 Moric Endem ; and when I told them that I was about 
 to raise a regiment to join the Prince of Orange, they 
 besought me eagerly to let them serve under me. 
 
 That matter was settled easily ; Moric was sent for, 
 and I thought would have gone mad with delight at 
 seeing me again. He was evidently not in such good 
 circumstances as when I had left him, and he declared 
 that fortune had quitted my band when I was taken at 
 Jarnac. Only six of the men had survived Moncontour 
 and Arnai le Due ; and on the following morning I 
 begged Count Ludovic* to permit me to take these six, 
 with Moric and my two young cousins, to form a sort of 
 nucleus for my future regiment. He hesitated ; for, to 
 say truth, he had no men to spare ; but the difficulty 
 was removed by my offering to leave an equal number 
 of those who had accompanied me to Mons. 
 
 I was eager to proceed on my journey; but my adven- 
 tures in Mons were not yet over. It was necessary to 
 procure money for raising the force I intended to levy, 
 as I had transmitted to Martin Vern all the wealth I had 
 acquired during my absence. It luckily happened, how- 
 ever, that I had a letter from the good merchant to one 
 of the wealthy Catholic bankers of Mons, and to him I 
 hastened as soon as I had given Moric and my two 
 cousins notice to prepare for departure. 
 
 I found the old man I sought in a dressing-gown of 
 rich brocade, a black velvet cap on his large head, and a 
 pen in his mouth. He listened to me, read the letter. 
 
 * Better known in modern history as Count Louis of Nassau, 
 
Ob, henbx de ceboks. 285 
 
 tod looked me all over in silence somewhat offensive ; 
 and at length I told him that I was in haste, and begged 
 that he would attend to my demand. 
 
 “ You are not like him here described,” said the old 
 man, drily; “ how shall I know, if you be in such haste, 
 that you are the right person ?” 
 
 I answered, I believe, somewhat angrily, and he 
 rejoined, “ Ha, ha ! Frenchmen are always prompt ; but 
 it so befalls, young gentleman, that there is in this very 
 house, at this very time, a partner of the house of Martin 
 Vern and Company.” 
 
 “ What, his nephew? ” I cried. 
 
 “Not so, young gentleman,” answered the merchant; 
 “ but he shall be called in, and you shall soon have your 
 answer.” 
 
 Thus saying, he rose, and, opening a door behind him, 
 spoke a word to some one in the neighbouring room. 
 The next moment appeared in the doorway the figure of 
 my old acquaintance, Solomon Ahar. The good Jew 
 started forward, and, in his Oriental fashion, fell upon 
 my neck embracing me. 
 
 “ How I have longed to see thee, my son ! ” he said; 
 “ how delighted my poor Miriam will be to hear that 
 thou art here in safety ; but stay not in this town till 
 they bring the armies round it and lay siege to it. It 
 is well to be here while one can come and go ; for there 
 is always much traffic in gold and silver and light goods, 
 when a place is likely to be assaulted from without ; 
 but no wise man should stay after there be gates shut 
 against the goers out as well as against the comers in. 
 Stay but till I go, my son, which will now be in a few 
 days, and then journey with me to Paris, where a certain 
 gold-hilted dagger, with seven fine jewels in the haft, is 
 laid up safely for thee ; and thy money has been put out 
 to interest, and used in traffic, and has brought thee, I 
 think, well nigh fifty for the hundred.” 
 
 There was now no further question in regard to the 
 money, and having informed the Jew, w T ho was really 
 grateful and kindly-hearted, what were my purposes, 
 X received some valuable information from him as to 
 
286 THE MAN AT ARMS; 
 
 where I was likely to procure men. I then took what 
 money I wanted, and, bidding Solomon Ahar adieu, was 
 soon once more beyond the walls of Mons, and on the 
 high road towards France. 
 
 There were parties of the enemy about between 
 Mons and Cambray, and it was with some difficulty 
 that we reached the French frontier. There, however, 
 I soon increased my force to between three and four 
 hundred men, and was thinking of beginning my march 
 with that number, to join the Prince of Orange, when 
 I received letters from the admiral and from the Prince 
 d’Auvergne, to both of whom I had written, advising 
 me to join a considerable force under the gallant, but 
 wrong-headed, Genlis, who had raised, by a commission 
 from the king, a force of nearly six thousand men. 
 At the same time the admiral informed me that the 
 king, at his request, had raised the estate of Les Bois 
 into a lordship for me, under the title of Count les 
 Bois and de Cerons. 
 
 This was indeed very joyful news ; and though the 
 newly- acquired influence of the admiral at the court 
 of France seemed to me almost inconceivable, yet I 
 obeyed his desire at once, and prepared to join Genlis, 
 though determined to act independently of him if his 
 rash vanity should render it necessary. The admiral’s 
 letter had distinctly stated that Genlis was about to 
 march to join the Prince of Orange ; but when I, at 
 length, met that officer at Noyon, I found him deter- 
 mined to advance direct upon Mons. 
 
 As, by this time, the siege of that place was formed, 
 and as I had heard, on good authority, that the Duke 
 of Ascot was marching to swell the forces of Alva’s 
 army, the idea which Genlis had taken up, that he 
 could deliver Mons with a force of less than six thou- 
 sand men, seemed to me so absurd, that I told him at 
 once I would not accompany him, my intention and 
 duty being to join the Prince of Orange. He answered 
 at first by a sneer; but shortly after begged me at 
 least to accompany him as far as St. Quentin, as he 
 had learned that the peasantry on the frontier had been 
 
OB, HENRI EE CERONS. 287 
 
 armed by the Duke of Alva, and were in force in that 
 neighbourhood. 
 
 On the following day we made a short march towards 
 Ham, but we soon learned that Don Ferdinand de 
 Toledo was before us, with a regular army, equal to 
 our own, instead of a troop of ill-disciplined peasantry. 
 The enemy was now within ten miles’ march of us ; a 
 battle was inevitable, and, of course, it was impossible 
 even to think of retiring at that moment. Yet, ere the 
 sun went down, I had only one desire, namely — to 
 mount my horse and ride to Paris at full speed. At 
 Guiscard, where we halted for the night, a courier 
 reached me from the prince dauphin. The words of 
 the letter were so few and prompt that they evinced 
 how eagerly and hastily my friend had written. 
 
 “ If you can with honour,” so the letter went, “ give 
 up your command and come to Paris, do so without a 
 moment’s delay. Your rival, without warning or notice 
 of any kind, has returned — is in Paris, and in the house 
 of the Baron de Blancford. You will blame me for this, 
 but I can endure the blame ; for, on my honour, I do 
 not deserve it. His journey has been concealed with 
 care ; and, though I watched anxiously, I have been 
 deceived. Come quickly, then, De Cerons, for you 
 Protestants now carry everything at the Court before 
 you, and if you delay an hour, Monsieur de Blancford ’s 
 influence may have overborne all. Think well, too, 
 what must be your course ; for remember that, as we 
 both foresaw, your late opposition to the will of the 
 father in the marriage of his own daughter, was de- 
 clared vexatious by the parliament, and you were fined 
 a hundred crowns. If you resolve on letting the sword 
 decide between you and your rival, forget not your friend, 
 D ’Auvergne.” 
 
 Scarcely giving the messenger time to refresh himself, 
 I despatched him with two letters, one to the Dauphin 
 d’Auvergne, informing him of the position in which we 
 stood with regard to the enemy, and telling him I would 
 but stay to fight, and then hasten back to the capital ; 
 
288 
 
 THE MAK AT ASMS | 
 
 and the other to good Martin Vern, whose parting words 
 in regard to my love of Louise gave me the only glimpse 
 of hope that could now visit me. To him I told all that 
 had occurred as briefly as possible ; but besought him, 
 at all events, to use the utmost exertions to stop any hasty 
 steps on the part of the baron. 
 
 It may easily be imagined that the tidings I had 
 received did not reconcile me greatly to the mad folly 
 ©f Genlis, and I began the march on the following 
 morning, out of spirits and out of humour; but the 
 movements of the whole force, and the negligence and 
 vain confidence with which Genlis conducted it, made 
 a great addition to my discomfort. At length we came 
 to a small stream, over which it was necessary to con- 
 struct a bridge, and seeing* from the disarray of the 
 troops, that if attacked at that moment by an enemy 
 one half of our strength, we might be absolutely cut 
 to pieces, I caused my men to seize upon the tower 
 of an old church, which had before been pierced for 
 musketry, and which, while the rest were busy at the 
 bridge, I took some pains to strengthen, having an 
 impression on my mind that we should meet with a 
 check. 
 
 When the bridge was concluded, we again began our 
 advance, and entered a little wood through which we 
 straggled rather than marched. We had scarcely passed 
 it, however, when a party which had been thrown for- 
 ward, was driven in with a strong body of men at 
 arms at their heels. I charged and broke the Spanish 
 men at arms. But it now became evident that a trap 
 had been laid for us; a tremendous fire was opened 
 upon my men from a bed of osiers that flanked the 
 ground ; charge after charge of the enemy’s cavalry 
 took place; and, overwhelmed by numbers as well as 
 taken unawares, after maintaining a hopeless combat for 
 nearly an hour and a half, we were obliged to fly as best 
 we could. Genlis, it must be said, did all that courage 
 and skill and coolness could do to remedy his former 
 faults, but in vain. He himself was taken in endeavour- 
 
289 
 
 OS, HENRI DE CERONS. 
 
 in g to cover the retreat of the infantry, and all I could 
 do was to bring off a part — a very small — part of my 
 own men, with one piece of artillery. 
 
 I was hotly pursued, however, and had no time to 
 destroy the bridge. My only resource was to throw my- 
 self into the church, and defend it as long as possible. 
 What I had done to strengthen it in the morning now 
 proved my salvation. The cavalry who followed kept us 
 blockaded during the whole of that night and a part of 
 the next day, but they could not remain long enough to 
 starve us out ; we kept them at a distance with our fire- 
 arms, and a small body of musketeers which joined them 
 were driven back with loss. 
 
 At length I offered to capitulate, as I found the men 
 beginning sadly to feel the want of water; and the 
 terms granted me were certainly far more favourable 
 than T dared hope. We were permitted to march 
 out with our arms, but it was exacted from us that we 
 should swear not to fight against the King of Spain 
 for two complete years ; and, well satisfied with the 
 result, we retired from our post and made the best of 
 our way back to Noyon. It was there that my young 
 cousin Charles first complained of a wound in the 
 shoulder, but he represented it as slight; and leaving 
 the men we had brought off under his command, I set 
 out for Paris with Moric Endem and one or two others, 
 determined to obtain, if possible, through the interven- 
 tion of the admiral, some reward for the gallant fellows 
 who survived our defeat. 
 
 Albert de Blancford remained with his brother ; but I 
 afterwards found that the wound of my poor cousin 
 Charles had that very night assumed so unfavourable an 
 appearance, that he was obliged to relinquish the com- 
 mand to Albert, who, terrified at the state to which he 
 soon saw his] brother reduced, divided the greater por- 
 tion of the money I had left with him amongst the men, 
 and suffered the shattered remnant of the regiment to 
 disperse. He then placed his brother in a litter and 
 returned to Paris, seeking his father’s house immediately, 
 but finding nothing there but sorrow and confusion. 
 
 19 
 
290 
 
 THE MAH AT ABM 8 | 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 The distance was considerable, but our horses were 
 good ; we were in the month of August, when days are 
 long, and we accomplished the journey from Noyon to 
 Paris in one day. We entered the capital just as the 
 shades of twilight were beginning to fall, and I paused, 
 for a moment, to consider in what direction 1 should first 
 turn my steps. I had resolved, however, not to go to 
 the prince dauphin, as I knew that, in case of my rivalry 
 with De Blaye ending in our settling the dispute with 
 the sword, D Auvergne would insist upon accompanying 
 me to the field, and I could not endure the thought of 
 seeing the hope and strength of that noble house run 
 the risk of such an encounter for my sake.* My hesi- 
 tation, therefore, only was whether I should first seek 
 the admiral, to inform him of the fatal result of Genlis’ 
 expedition, or go at once to good Martin Yern, to hear 
 news of my poor Louise. Love had well nigh triumphed; 
 but I did resist, and, turning my rein towards the Rue 
 de Bethisy, where I had been informed the admiral 
 resided, I found his abode, which was in a handsome 
 inn. There, however, I learned that he was himself at 
 the Court; and, having satisfied myself by doing my 
 duty, I turned my horse’s head towards the dwelling 
 of the merchant. 
 
 Martin Yern and his partners, though they had taken 
 many risks during the war, had been enriched in an 
 extraordinary degree, by the restoration of peace, and 
 the favour which all the Protestants had so speedily ac- 
 quired. Debts, which had appeared almost hopeless, 
 had been paid with long arrears of interest ; and though 
 
 * It was the custom in France, at that time, for the seconds to 
 fight, as well as the principals. 
 
291 
 
 OR, HENEI DE CEEOtfS. 
 
 many others remained, yet the good merchant was now 
 one of the most wealthy men in Paris. His house 
 showed it, but not himself ; for, on being ushered into 
 the room where he sat at supper with his wife, his bro- 
 ther, his nephew, and his children, I could certainly 
 discover no change of demeanour from the good, plain 
 merchant that I had first seen on my journey to An- 
 gouleme. They were all delighted to see me ; and, 
 unwilling to disturb them, I sat down to partake of their 
 meal, while Moric Endem, and the rest of my followers, 
 obtained a lodging in an inn hard by. 
 
 During supper, Martin Yern was grave and thought- 
 ful, but not sad : his nephew had become a fine and 
 noble looking young man, and there was in his whole 
 appearance an air of smartness and manly dignity which 
 bespoke a change of thoughts and feelings since we had 
 last met. 
 
 Ere supper was well concluded, the latter rose, saying 
 to his uncle, “ I will go to Monsieur Ahar, and bring 
 what he has got for the Seigneur de Cerons,” and as 
 soon as he was gone, the elder merchant added, “ You 
 know, I believe, Monsieur de Cerons, that your old 
 acquaintance, Monsieur Solomon Ahar, has become a 
 partner of ours : but, doubtless, you know not how his 
 conversion was brought about.” 
 
 “ Converted !** I exclaimed “ Do you mean to say 
 that he has become a Christian ?” 
 
 “ He could not otherwise have become a partner in 
 our house. He is a good Catholic Christian, thank 
 God ! But I was going to tell you how this was brought 
 about. My nephew, having got over some of the follies 
 of his youth, learned to love and esteem those qualities 
 of mind and heart which are really worth love, and he 
 found them combined with beauty and affection in 
 Miriam Ahar. There was one objection, — her religion ; 
 but that Martin found means to remove ; and the good 
 Jew declared that, as all things were reversed nowa- 
 days, the father might as well follow the religion of the 
 child, instead of the child following the religion of her 
 father. He accordingly made his abjuration, as his rela- 
 
292 
 
 THE MAN AT AHMS ; 
 
 tion, Levi, had done, and was received into the bosom of 
 the Church. Miriam becomes my nephew’s bride in a 
 few weeks, and in the meantime this conversion has 
 obtained for him so much celebrity amongst the Catholic 
 divines, that I do believe they would make him a bishop 
 if they could. But that would prevent his marriage, 
 you know, seigneur, and therefore he remains a mer- 
 chant.” 
 
 As soon as supper was over, the wife and the children 
 of Martin Vern left us, and he immediately turned to my 
 letter, and to the business that brought me. 
 
 “ I have much to tell you, seigneur,” he said, “ and 
 much advice to give you. In the first place, you are 
 saved but by one day ; and you owe that to the scheme 
 which our little Miriam devised for you before you went. 
 The baron, your cousin, is indebted in a large sum to 
 Solomon Ahar, and in a lesser sum to me, and as he pro- 
 mises this Seigneur de Blaye a large dowry with his 
 child, Miriam proposed that the whole debt, which com- 
 prises more than all his movable wealth, should be 
 claimed at once. I was unwilling to do as she wished, 
 except in case of absolute need ; and accordingly when, 
 on a former occasion, you found other means to stop the 
 signature of the contract, I held "back. Now, however, 
 I knew there was no time to be lost, and even had your 
 letter not reached me, I would have acted as I have 
 done, for I have been almost daily at the baron’s house, 
 as there is every day need of money for the husband, or 
 jewels and rich stuff for the wife. By this means I 
 heard and knew that the baron had sworn his daughter 
 should consent to marry the young Lord of Blaye, or 
 that he would declare himself a Catholic, and use those 
 means which our religion gives, to force her to obey. 
 It is not, however, that he loves this Lord of Blaye, for 
 he abhors him ; but it is, my good lord, that his wife 
 has power over him, of some kind which we know not. 
 Some secret is in her hands, depend upon it, which puts 
 him wholly in her power. However that may be, the 
 day for signing the contract was named as yesterday, 
 and the hour, noon. The whole had met when I pre- 
 
293 
 
 OS, HE^SI EE CEEONS. 
 
 sented myself. I knew that the money to pay the 
 dowry was prepared. X had armed myself with all legal 
 forms, and went, accompanied by those who knew each 
 turn of law. The money was paid to me instead of the 
 Lord of Blaye ; and the baron, with a proud air, said, 
 ‘ It mattered not ; that he was ready to sign, and that, 
 in order to pay the dowry he had promised, and not to 
 fall in one tittle of his word to Monsieur de Blaye, he 
 would sell the estate of Cerons even by auction in the 
 halls of the Palais de Justice, and discharge the amount 
 before the week was over ’ ” 
 
 “ Good Heaven! has he done so?” I cried. “ It was 
 always my ambition to recover that land.” 
 
 “He has not done so yet, seigneur,” replied Martin 
 Vern ; “ but this is Friday — to-morrow is the last day 
 of the week : his word is pledged ; the sale proclaimed, 
 and he will not retract ; though, when the Seigneur de 
 Blaye coldly declared it would be better for none to sign 
 the contract till the dowry was ready, I could see the 
 blood mount into the baron’s cheek and forehead, till I 
 feared the veins would burst. He turned towards his 
 wife, but that fierce lady held up her finger to him, and 
 he was cowed in a moment. Unless you, sir, can stop 
 the sale, — unless you can prove that the estate of Cerons 
 cannot be sold— the estate will be sold, and the contract 
 signed. Nay, more, the young lady must become the 
 wife of one she abhors, or be plunged into the imprison- 
 ment of a convent, from which you can never deliver 
 her.” 
 
 “ Alas, alas ! my good friend,” I said, “ I can prove 
 no such thing. I know the estate can be sold, for my 
 own father sold it. It is not hereditary, and depends 
 upon the baron’s will. There is only one means, and 
 that must be tried at once. Louise must fly with me. 
 Under such circumstances it is quite justifiable to do so.” 
 
 “ Before you form any determination, let us consider 
 for a moment, Monsieur de Cerons,” replied the mer- 
 chant, in his cool, calculating tone ; “ what would you 
 grant that man who would first prove to you that the 
 lordship of De Cerons cannot be sold in perpetuity, and 
 
294 
 
 THE MAH AT ARMS ; 
 
 in the second place point out a way by which you 
 may perhaps fly with the lady that you love; but fly 
 with her as your wife, and with her father’s own con- 
 sent?” 
 
 t( What would I give?” I exclaimed. “ What would I 
 not give? you should say, my good friend.” 
 
 “ Well, then, Monsieur de Cerons,”said the merchant, 
 somewhat more rapidly than was his wont, “ I must be 
 quick with my conditions, for I hear Martin’s steps on 
 the stairs. First, you shall forgive fully and entirely a 
 girl’s curiosity. Secondly — hut this is a harder task— 
 you shall take a piece of advice without asking a ques- 
 tion. Thirdly, you shall put yourself entirely under my 
 guidance for the next three days.” 
 
 “ Willingly ! ” I said, “ willingly ; ” but as I was speak- 
 ing, and Martin Vern was turning to his brother, and 
 begging him to witness our contract, his nephew entered 
 the room with Solomon Ahar himself and Miriam, now 
 become a lovely woman. 
 
 “ O false merchant !” cried the girl, addressing Martin 
 Yern, Ci you have told him ! I see it in his face ! You 
 have told him ! ” 
 
 “ No, indeed, Miriam,” replied the merchant, “ I have 
 told him nothing.” 
 
 Miriam was about to proceed, it seemed, but her 
 father bustled forward, saying, “A truce to nonsense, 
 girl. Let us to business first. Seigneur de Cerons, 
 here is the dagger which is your property, on account of 
 
 which you are in my debt the sum of ,” and he was 
 
 taking out his inkhorn to calculate, when Martin Vem 
 motioned him to be silent, saying, “ Hold me responsi- 
 ble, my good brother, for capital and interest according 
 to law and justice. We have other matters now in hand. 
 Examine your dagger well, Monsieur de Cerons. Do 
 you see nothing to attract you further?” 
 
 “ I know,” I replied, “ that the hilt is hollow. My 
 poor friend, Stuart, assured me that it was so, and that 
 there were papers therein. — I cannot unfasten it, how- 
 ever,” I added, trying to do so impatiently. “ We had 
 better have a hammer brought,” 
 
295 
 
 OB, HENKI DE CEB05TS. 
 
 “ Less violent means will do,” replied Martin Yern. 
 “ If you will give it to that fair lady, she will open it.” 
 
 Miriam took it from my hand, saying, with a look of 
 graceful deprecation, “ Will you, my noble count, par- 
 don me for an act which I could be well ashamed of, did 
 not these gentlemen tell me that my curiosity may prove 
 of use to you ? I first discovered that the dagger’s hilt 
 was hollow. I too have opened it, and have read that 
 which it contains. Forgive me— I know, I am sure you 
 will.” 
 
 And as she spoke she unscrewed the massy ring of 
 gold which encircled the haft, just where the blade was 
 inserted. A large emerald, which was at the top, also 
 unscrewed without difficulty, and the blade then, with a 
 much smaller haft of solid steel, was drawn out from the 
 false case of gold. Found the real haft was wrapped a 
 roll of fine vellum, which encircled it six times, and on 
 opening it, I saw at the bottom the handwriting of my 
 cousin, the baron. It was his name attached to an ac- 
 knowledgment and covenant duly drawn up in legal form, 
 whereby he deprived himself of the power of ever sell- 
 ing either the lordship of Cerons, or the barony of 
 Blancford, settled the succession of the first-named pro- 
 perty on me in case of his death without male heirs, and 
 the other, also, in case of his death childless. The 
 vellum still further set forth that he made this settle- 
 ment in consideration of receiving the estate of Cerons, 
 and another farm belonging to my father, below their 
 real value, my father being unwilling that they should 
 depart from a race to which they had belonged for cen- 
 turies. It was witnessed by a personage of the name of 
 Des Chappes ; and Martin Yern, pointing to that name 
 as I stood thunderstruck gazing on the paper, said, — 
 
 “ He is still living, and revered by the whole parlia- 
 ment, of which he is one of the most honourable mem- 
 bers. I have myself asked him if he remembers the 
 transaction, and can tell you, that having a deep regard 
 for your late father, he can swear to every line, though 
 he be past eighty years of age.” 
 
 These are, indeed, great and extraordinary tidings,” 
 
296 
 
 THE MAH' AT ASMS; 
 
 I said, grasping the good merchant’s hand : “ but I fear, 
 my friend, that by exercising the rights that this paper 
 gives me, I shall but make the separation between my- 
 self and my proud cousin the more complete. How 
 shall I by any means here presented to me, gain his 
 regard or his affection.” 
 
 “ Did you never in life observe, Monsieur de Cerons,” 
 said the merchant, “ that men often treat haughtily and 
 harshly those they love, while they are courteous and 
 yielding to those they fear ? The baron loves you far 
 better than any one but his owm children : he respects, 
 he esteems you, and at the same time he hates, contemns, 
 and fears your rival. If you assist and support him 
 against this Lord of Blaye, while you maintain your own 
 rights with kindly firmness, you will cause him to rest 
 upon you, and give way to his own better feelings. Let 
 us first stop the sale : that, depend upon it, will stop 
 the marriage. Then, if we had time, we could leave 
 time to do its work. But,” he added, musing,— “ but 
 I will not trust to what time may bring forth. Every- 
 thing is a matter of merchandise in this world : what 
 will you give for a wife you love, Monsieur de Cerons ? ” 
 
 “ All that I have on earth,” I replied, smiling. 
 
 “ Nay, nay — not so much as that/’ answered the mer- 
 chant. “Will you give sixty thousand livres?” 
 
 “ If I had it, I would,” I answered; “ but I have it 
 not.” 
 
 “ Very nearly in my hands,” replied the merchant. 
 “ Twelve thousand crowns at fifty-seven sols Parisis 
 make — But it matters not ! you shall have it. Do you 
 consent to give it ? ” 
 
 “ I do,” I answered : “ but how, my good friend, am 
 I to- ” 
 
 “ Look here, Monsieur de Cerons,” said the merchant, 
 taking out a portfolio, and placing in my hand a note or 
 bill of exchange, “ you see here, one Augustus, Seigneur 
 of Blaye, agrees and promises to pay on demand to 
 Martin Vern, the sum of sixty thousand livres, being 
 the remainder of an account between them. If Martin 
 Vern transfers this bill to you, and you in consideration 
 
OB, HENRI HE CERONS. 297 
 
 of certain concessions, transfer it to a certain Baron de 
 Blancford — What say you ? ” 
 
 “ That there is hope,” I replied, “ that there is hope ; 
 hut yet, my good friend, there is much to be thought of.” 
 
 “Not much of which I have not thought, sir,” re- 
 plied the merchant. “ You have already agreed to put 
 yourself entirely under my guidance for the next three 
 days ; but you have promised also to take a piece of 
 advice without asking a question, — are you ready so 
 to do? ” 
 
 “ I am always ready to keep any promise,” I replied. 
 “What is the advice ? ” 
 
 “ It is a somewhat harsh one,” answered Martin Vern : 
 “ neither more or less than to execute a bill of sale to 
 me, this night, of your chateau and estate of Les Bois, 
 in consideration of which I will give you bills, money, 
 or credit, for sixty thousand crowns.” 
 
 He spoke gravely, even sadly, and with a frowning 
 brow ; and when I commenced my reply with “ But — ” 
 he stopped me, saying, — 
 
 “You promised, Monsieur de Cerons, to ask no 
 questions. Hear me,” he said, in a lower voice, and 
 drawing me somewhat aside, “I know little — indeed, 
 I know nothing, — but I suspect and I fear much, Mon- 
 sieur de Cerons ; and think that if you can obtain the 
 hand of your fair Louise with her father’s consent, and 
 fly with her at once far from Paris, you will do well and 
 wisely. Follow my advice in this ; take my note for 
 the money ; let me become the apparent proprietor of 
 Les Bois, till better times, and I will explain your con- 
 duct to those who gave it you. If you never need the 
 money, you shall be free to give it back, and keep the 
 land. At all events you shelter yourself against the 
 danger of confiscation.” 
 
 What he said was so true that I should have been 
 foolish to neglect it, suspicious as I still was of the 
 sudden change in the feelings of the Court, which had 
 so completely taken in the admiral and the Queen of 
 Navarre. Accordingly, while his nephew, his brother, 
 and Solomon Ahar, were still present, the papers were 
 
298 THE MAH AT AEMS ; 
 
 drawn up between the merchant and myself, leaving 
 him the nominal, though not the real, proprietor of the 
 estate of Les Bois. 
 
 Not long after this, Martin Yern and myself were left 
 alone, hut the business of the day was not yet over. 
 He insisted that his house should be my home for 
 the time ; but ere he suffered me to retire to rest, he 
 "kept me in conversation for two or three hours more, ex- 
 plaining to me all his views, with mercantile brevity and 
 accuracy ; and my conduct during the following day, 
 which I am about to detail, was the result of the con- 
 sultation that we then held. 
 
 At length, tired and exhausted, I went to the room 
 prepared for me ; and no prince’s palace could, certainly, 
 have afforded me more comfortable or luxurious accom- 
 modation. I was too much fatigued, however, to sleep 
 for some time; and ere I had enjoyed any real repose 
 for more than two hours, young Martin Yern entered my 
 room, and took his seat by my bed-side. He remained 
 for more than half an hour, and his conversation was 
 not, like that of his uncle, devoted entirely to business. 
 He talked of the affairs of the day, and discussed some 
 light, some serious topics, with which my readers would 
 be but little edified. It seemed to me, however, that 
 there was something labouring in his mind all the time 
 while we conversed ; and, as he rose to depart, he put 
 his head close down to mine, saying, in a whisper, — 
 
 “ Whenever you hear the great bell of St. Germain 
 l’Auxerois ring at an unusual hour, set off out of Paris, 
 if it be day; and fly to me, if it be night.” 
 
 Then, laying his finger on his lips as an injunction to 
 secrecy, he left the room without waiting for further 
 question. 
 
OB, HENEI PE CEKONS. 
 
 2S9 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 I need hardly here detail my visit to the Admiral de 
 Coligny, which was my first act after rising the next 
 inorning, as that visit had no results either affecting 
 myself or the Protestant cause. I had, in the meantime, 
 however, written to my cousin, giving him tidings of his 
 sons, and asking to speak with him on matters of deep 
 importance to us both. I said all that was kind, all that 
 was affectionate; and I besought him to give me an 
 interview alone, if it were but of a few minutes, before 
 mid-day. 
 
 On my return to the merchant’s house, I found an 
 answer. It was not in his handwriting, though an 
 attempt had evidently been made to imitate it ; and the 
 reply, though given in an affected tone of courtesy, was 
 tantamount to a refusal. 
 
 The Baron de Blancford, it said, would be very happy 
 to see me, as well as any other of his near relations, 
 and would receive me whenever I chose to call upon 
 him; but, at the same time, to save me unnecessary 
 trouble, it might be as well to let me know that he 
 should not be able to entertain me till after the follow- 
 ing Monday. The letter went on to add some unmean- 
 ing compliments on my valour and distinction, and some 
 heartless thanks for the care and attention I had shown 
 his sons. 
 
 After I had read it, I handed it to good Martin Yern, 
 whose only comment was, “Well, then, we must go to 
 the halls of the parliament, where everything is already 
 prepared for us. Come, seigneur, I am at your service.” 
 
 It was, I confess, most painful to me to enter into 
 oper contest with the father of Louise de Blancford, and 
 
300 
 
 THE MAK AT AEMS ; 
 
 I determined that nothing should draw from me one 
 angry word or rash expression. We were upon the 
 ground first, however, and as I walked up and down in 
 the hall of Lost Steps, Martin Yarn somewhat reassured 
 me by telling me that I should find my cousin a com- 
 pletely altered being. 
 
 In about ten minutes, there was a slight movement 
 amongst the crowd of petitioners and others at the further 
 end of the hall, and an old man advanced from the 
 door which they surrounded, with an upright carriage, 
 hut slow step, towards the entrance of the great chamber. 
 He was pale, and much shrivelled with age ; but, though 
 small in stature, he was dignified, and his eye seemed 
 to have lost none of its fire. On seeing Martin Yern, 
 he stopped, and turned his eyes on me for a moment ; 
 but the next instant, he advanced, and took me by the 
 hand. 
 
 “ I cannot be mistaken,” he said. “ This must be 
 Monsieur de Cerons. My dear young friend ! I rejoice 
 to meet you once, before I go to meet your father again 
 in those mansions which, I doubt not, he has reached, 
 and which I humbly trust in Christ that I may be also 
 permitted soon to enter.” 
 
 I needed no other words to tell me that this was the 
 President des Chappes, of whom Martin Yern had 
 spoken ; and after a few words more of inquiry and 
 retrospect, the worthy magistrate turned the conversa- 
 tion to the subject which had brought me thither. 
 
 “ I have come myself,” he said, “ though not very 
 well, to prohibit the sale of this property, not knowing 
 whether you would arrive in time or not. No one can 
 know so well as I do the terms on which the transfer 
 was made to your cousin, as I drew the very paper I 
 see now in your hands. I was at that time a lawyer in 
 the royal court of Bordeaux ; and, though not exactly 
 in my line of business, I put the matter in order for 
 your father with my own hand. Alas! I knew not that 
 I should never see him more after I witnessed the sig- 
 nature of that deed. — But here, I think, come our oppo- 
 
301 
 
 02, HEN2I DE CEEOM. 
 
 nents ; I will not call them enemies, for I love not to 
 see a breach in families. This must he either the Baron 
 de Blancford, or some other person who thinks himself 
 of importance.” 
 
 I turned to see, and perceived the baron, followed by 
 several other gentlemen advancing rapidly up the hall, 
 and speaking — it seemed to me angrily — with the young 
 Seigneur de Blaye. At all events, their brows were 
 frowning, and their cheeks were heated ; and not 
 knowing whether the sight of my attendants, whom I 
 had left without, might not have produced all these 
 signs of indignation, I remained, taking no further 
 notice, that the storm might burst. To my surprise, 
 however, the baron advanced, and took my hand. 
 “ Henri,” he said, in a voice that trembled with emotion, 
 “ my poor boy has arrived, I fear dying of the wound 
 you mentioned in your letter. T see you feel for me,” 
 he continued; “and no one shall prevent me expressing 
 my thanks for the kindness and — and — and ” 
 
 While he spoke, his eyes had rested on the pale and 
 withered countenance of the President des Chappes ; a 
 look of doubt and surprise came into his face ; he 
 turned white ; he hesitated, and then added, confusedly, 
 “ Charles is eager and anxious to see you. He thought 
 you would have come this morning, — Who is that beside 
 you — the old man? ” he asked, in a lower tone. 
 
 “ That,” I replied, “ is an old friend of my father’s, 
 Monsieur des Chappes, formerly of Bordeaux.” 
 
 The baron trembled excessively; and, as far as pos- 
 sible to let him recover himself, I went on to say, “ I 
 would have been at your house long ago, but you your- 
 self refused to receive me till after Monday.” 
 
 “ I ! ” cried the baron, “ I said no such thing. I said 
 I would receive you whenever you chose to come — 
 I ” 
 
 “My fair cousin, I have your note 1 ” I replied; 
 “ there it is ! ” 
 
 He took it and read it through, and certainly, never 
 did I behold the cheek, even of a timid girl, change its 
 
302 
 
 THE MAH AT ASMS; 
 
 hue so frequently. At length, however, he tore it to 
 atoms, and trampled it under his feet, saying, “ I am 
 fooled ! It is the production of a lady, Henri de Cerons, 
 and therefore I must say no more.” 
 
 He paused, and gazed round him for a moment or 
 two in silence, as if uncertain how to proceed, while the 
 Seigneur de Blaye remained playing with his sword- 
 knot, and maintaining a determined silence ; and the 
 rest, who had followed the baron, conversed together in 
 a low tone. 
 
 “Now speak with him alone,” whispered Martin 
 Vern, who had been talking to Monsieur des Chappes, 
 and I immediately followed the suggestion, saying, “ As 
 it appears, my noble cousin, that the interview which 
 I asked this morning for the purpose of communicating 
 to you a most important fact, was only prevented by a 
 mistake of the baroness in regard to your intentions, 
 perhaps you will give me five minutes’ conversation 
 with you alone ; the proclamation of sale will not take 
 place for a quarter of an hour.” 
 
 “Where can we speak alone?” said the baron, with 
 
 a furtive look at Des Chappes. “ I fear that ” 
 
 “Oh, in one of the bureaux,” said the president, who 
 had heard all that passed ; “I will wait here for you, my 
 young friend. Huissier, lead these two gentlemen to 
 some cabinet where they may confer.” 
 
 “And pray,” said the Seigneur de Blaye, “am I to 
 remain here idling my time away till you return, 
 baron ? ” 
 
 “You came, good sir, to see the sale, I think,” replied 
 the baron, sharply, “ not to enjoy my conversation, 
 which, I suppose, could not be very entertaining to 
 you ;” and thus saying he followed the huissier, who 
 led us to a small room, where we were left alone. 
 
 The moment the door was shut, the baron seized me 
 by both hands, and gazed in my face with a wild and 
 haggard eye, “Henri!” he exclaimed, “what are you 
 here for ? What is the meaning of this ? ” 
 
 “ The meaning, sir,” I answered, calmly, but firmly, 
 
303 
 
 OB, EE1STBI DE CEBOKS. 
 
 “ the meaning is simply that the estates of Cerons can- 
 not he sold. Make me not say anything painful to you, 
 but you know, as well I do, that they must not, and 
 cannot be sold.” 
 
 “Henri! Henri!” burst forth from the baron, “do 
 not drive me to despair ! ” 
 
 “ God forbid ! ” T cried, earnestly ; “I seek anything 
 but that. On the contrary, turn, my lord, to those 
 who really love and can really serve you, and amongst 
 the most zealous count myself. I have raised myself, 
 unsupported and alone, from nothing. With your sup- 
 port, and in your defence and aid, I can do far more ; 
 and if you will let me, I will in ten minutes chastise yon 
 empty coxcomb, who seeks your sweet child’s dowry, 
 not her hand. The estate of Cerons cannot be sold ; 
 but still I will enable you to ” 
 
 “ You cannot, — you cannot,” replied the baron, inter- 
 rupting me vehemently. “ You do not know that I 
 have bound myself to him in a large sum that I cannot 
 pay. The money I borrowed to pay the poor child’s 
 dowry is gone. I have nothing to give with her. He 
 will claim the bond I gave him. If the sale be stopped, 
 I am dishonoured.” 
 
 “ Nay, nay,” I said; “ all this may well be amended.” 
 
 “ Impossible ! impossible ! ” he said, in a low tone. 
 “ I am ruined, disgraced. Why, your very opposition is 
 enough. I cannot stop the sale without calling his 
 claim upon me. You cannot stop it without exposing 
 all.” 
 
 “ But hear me,” I said ; “but hear me. I know all 
 — you have nothing to explain. If you will consent to 
 my marriage with Louise, dowerless, portionless, I will 
 allow you to stay the sale without one word regarding 
 the cause — hear me, hear me ! — and I will instantly put 
 it in your power to quash this man’s claim with a single 
 word, and render him your debtor. I know he cannot 
 pay that debt, and therefore ” 
 
 “ Can you do this ? Can you do this ? ” cried the 
 baron, with his whole face brightening. 
 
804 
 
 THE MAN AT ASMS; 
 
 “ Ay, my cousin, I can,” I replied, “ and will this 
 moment ; and if he dare but sneer, I will lash him 
 from that hall like an unruly hound.” 
 
 “ That is needless ! that is needless ! ” replied the 
 baron, a look of triumph coming over his countenance. 
 “Tie will be my debtor — I not his; that will be suffi- 
 cient. But, O Henri,” he added, while his look fell 
 again, and his cheek became pale, — “ 0 Henri ! — there is 
 another! — there is another! — Perdition is on either hand, 
 and if I snatch at the aid you nobly and generously 
 offer, I fall into another abyss, perhaps worse than that 
 from which you snatch me ; and yet if the sale do not 
 take place, it is double destruction. What can I do ? 
 what ought I to do ? Tell me !— tell me, if you pity 
 me!” 
 
 “ I will tell you, sir, if you will listen to my advice,” 
 I replied ; “ but you must decide speedily, for time 
 wears. The most pressing evil is the one before you. 
 The President des Chappes will instantly forbid the sale 
 if it be proclaimed. The cause of the prohibition must 
 then be put on record. Nothing can ever erase that. 
 Then comes upon you this Lord of Biaye ; and, unprin- 
 cipled libertine as he is, think you he will spare you in 
 any shape ? At all events, sweep this away, and let us 
 meet whatever other risk or difficulty may be in store 
 as best we may. Will you consent, sir ?” 
 
 “You know not, Henri de Cerons, — you know not 
 what those difficulties are. But what you ask must be 
 done. Louise shall be yours ; — but you promise to aid 
 me — to save me if you can?” 
 
 “ To the very utmost of my power,” I answered ; 
 “but I know or guess more than you suppose, sir. 
 You are threatened with danger if you give your child 
 to any but this libertine,” he bowed his head in token 
 of assent, — “ and it is the baroness you fear?” I went 
 on, but he interrupted me, exclaiming, “ Not her ! — not 
 her ! ” 
 
 “ But the secrets she possesses,” I rejoined ; and he 
 turned deadly pale., 
 
305 
 
 OB, HEKBI DE C'EROKS. 
 
 “ The only way,” he said, after a pause of some 
 minutes, — “ the only way will he for you to conceal your 
 marriage.” 
 
 “No, my lord,” I replied, “that cannot be; but I 
 will conceal your consent. — Hear me ! ” I continued, 
 seeing him about to grasp at the proposal eagerly with- 
 out any conditions, — “ hear me out. I will conceal 
 your consent during your whole life, unless compelled 
 by any process of law to reveal it, or driven to do so by 
 any attempts to annul our union. If you agree to that, 
 draw up at once in your own hand your formal appro- 
 bation of our union upon those conditions ; and then if 
 ever I produce that paper without need, the dishonour 
 will fall on me. I will in return assign this bond to 
 you; and, walking forth together from this room, we 
 will at once forbid the sale, and set yon braggart boy at 
 defiance. There are paper and pens upon that desk.” 
 
 “ Be it so, — be it so ! ” cried the baron, seeming to 
 revive from the tone of confidence with which I spoke ; 
 and taking the pen he wrote the words I put into his 
 mouth. He read it over, and then gave it to me, and 
 imagination can scarcely do justice to the feelings with 
 which I received it, 
 
 I then assigned to him the bond ; and while I wrote 
 he remained with his eyes fixed musingly upon the 
 ground. 
 
 “Henri,” he said, taking it when I had done, but 
 scarcely looking at the signature, “ you think that I am 
 either weak to be so swayed by a woman, or criminal 
 that I should fear her. But believe me when I swear to 
 you that she holds her power over me by a gross false- 
 hood. A few unfortunate words, written thoughtlessly, 
 and seeming, as she has turned them, to countenance a 
 deed that I abhorred, have bound me to misery and 
 slavery.” 
 
 “I grieve, sir, most truly,” I replied; “but I hope 
 the time will come when you will trust me more fully, 
 and I doubt not then to be able ” 
 
 At that moment, however, one of the huissiers opened 
 
 20 
 
306 
 
 THE MAH AT AEMS ; 
 
 the door, saying, “ Monsieur le Baron, the sale is about 
 to he proclaimed. ” We both hurried to the hall where 
 it was to take place ; but ere we reached it the procla- 
 mation was made, and the President des Chappes was 
 in the act of saying, “ I prohibit the sale in the name of 
 Henri, Count de Cerons and Les Bois.” 
 
 “ Speak ! — speak, sir ! ” I whispered to the baron ; 
 “ forbid it also, that no cause may be entered on my 
 part.” 
 
 44 1 prohibit the sale, also,” he said, raising his voice 
 aloud, — and then added, in an ordinary tone, “I have 
 just received intelligence which alters altogether my 
 intentions.” 
 
 “You have, sir?” exclaimed the Seigneur de Blaye, 
 advancing with a menacing air. “ Then you are, as I 
 trust you remember, my debtor to the amount of forty 
 thousand livres.” 
 
 “ Pardon me, sir ! ” said the baron, in that cold bitter 
 tone which I had more than once heard him use) towards 
 myself in former days, — “ I think if I read this paper 
 right, that it is you are my debtor to the amount of 
 twenty thousand. We will settle our accounts when- 
 ever you think fit.” 
 
 The young man looked at the paper, and evidently 
 recognised it well; then turned his eyes upon me, say- 
 ing, “I understand to whom I am most a debtor, and 
 will take occasion to settle my accounts with him before 
 a week be over.” 
 
 44 1 trust you will be punctual, Monsieur de Blaye,” 
 I replied ; but the President des Chappes interfered, 
 saying, 44 Young men ! young men ! many words like 
 that uttered here will send you to the chatelet. I be- 
 seech you, sir,” he continued, speaking to De Blaye, 
 44 as it seems to me that you have nothing to do with 
 this cause, to leave the hall first.” 
 
 De Blaye was about to reply, but one or two of the 
 gentlemen who had accompanied him and the baron 
 thither, took him by the arm and drew him away. We 
 remained in the hall some ten minutes longer, the baron 
 
307 
 
 OB, HENEI EE CEBONS. 
 
 speaking to Monsieur des Chappes in as unconcerned a 
 tone as he could command. The moment we had issued 
 forth into the street, however, he spoke to me eagerly 
 and long upon the subject whereon my own thoughts 
 were most earnestly bent. He, himself, now urged my 
 immediate marriage and departure with Louise, and 
 he promised to speak with her and prepare her mind 
 for it. 
 
 “ If you are long,” he said, “ the matter will be dis- 
 covered, and I shall be forced either to sanction your 
 union openly, or to oppose it. The latter,” he con- 
 tinued, “ of course must not be done ; but as you have 
 promised to spare me, Henri, as far as possible, I trust 
 that, by the utmost secrecy and expedition, you will let 
 the whole assume the appearance of being done without 
 my consent.” 
 
 My answer may easily be conceived ; but the baron’s 
 fears were not less eager than a lover’s hopes ; and he 
 turned instantly from me to Martin Yern, who stood 
 upon the steps of the Palais just behind us. Their 
 conversation tended all to the same object; for the 
 baron, from various words that had been spoken, com- 
 prehended that the greater part of my information had 
 been derived from the merchant. I did not hear the 
 whole, however ; for at that moment a gay train passed 
 along, and before I was well aware, my hand was in 
 that of the prince dauphin. The first expression of his 
 countenance was that of pleasure at seeing me ; but the 
 next was shaded by some other feelings, and after a few 
 rapid questions he asked me to come to Champigny, and 
 spend the following day there. 
 
 There was a hope in my bosom, however, which pre- 
 vented me from saying “Yes;” and I replied, with a 
 smile, that perhaps I might be obliged to quit Paris ere 
 that. He smiled again, but seemed puzzled by my re- 
 ply, saying, “ Well, well, let it be so but ere he left 
 me, he came closer, and said in a low tone, “ Promise 
 me upon your honour, De Cerons, to come to me at 
 Cbampigny to-morrow night, if you do not quit Paris 
 
308 THE MAH AT ARMS; 
 
 to go elsewhere. I have something important to say 
 to you.” 
 
 I promised without hesitation ; and, grasping my 
 hand warmly, he left me and went on. “ Now,” said 
 the baron, as I turned towards him again, “I have 
 settled it all with this good merchant at whose house 
 you lodge. Come with me, Henri, for Charles, poor 
 boy, cries eagerly to see you ; and to-night I will visit 
 you and tell you, I trust, that all is prepared.” 
 
 Bidding adieu to Martin* Vem for tHe time, with many 
 thanks for all that he had done, I mounted my horse, 
 and accompanied the baron to his. house, saying, as we 
 rode along, “May I not hope to see Louise also ? If 
 we are to be so soon united, it were but needful that I 
 should speak with her. myself.” “ • 
 
 “Nay, Henri, nay,” replied my cousin, with the 
 blood mantling up in his cheek : “ press it not if the 
 baroness be there. If she be not, for a moment you can 
 speak with the dear child, to tell her that, in order to 
 save all further pain on either part, your union is to 
 take place in her chamber to-morrow night. Good old 
 La Tour shall be brought from Montmorency to speak a 
 blessing on you; the contract shall be duly drawn, and 
 Albert shall be present, though I must not. One stair- 
 case shall be placed in the hands of your people to 
 insure your passing unopposed ; the merchant engages 
 that a gate of the city shall be kept open to give you 
 exit ; and then, as soon as she is yours, fly with her into 
 the south without delay.” 
 
 “To-morrow night, did you say?” I exclaimed, in 
 some surprise : “ can all be arranged by that time?” 
 “All, all,” replied the baron ; “and oh, Henri ! when 
 she is your wife, tell her that, towards her at least, her 
 father was not made harsh by nature, — tell, Henri — tell 
 her, in one word, that she is like her mother ; ay, and 
 that whatever she may think, I love her for that like- 
 ness.” 
 
 “ Oh ! Monsieur de Blancford,” I cried, moved by 
 those words, “why, why will you not shake off the 
 
OB, HENBI EE CEEONS. 309 
 
 yoke that presses thus on you ? — why do you not treat 
 her threats with scorn ?” 
 
 “ Because, Henri, — because I have sold myself to a 
 fiend,” he answered, almost fiercely. “Speak not of it 
 now r one day I will tell you more.” 
 
 We rode on ; and T saw Charles de Blancford, though 
 terribly changed, indeed, in the space of two short days. 
 I saw my Louise, too, but it was only for a few short 
 minutes : that, however, was enough to tell her that our 
 fate was changed; and to ask her if she would consent 
 to be mine so suddenly, so secretly, so unprepared. She 
 replied not at first ; but her looks left all other answer 
 needless ; and, ere she could reply, we heard the arrival 
 of the baroness in the court-yard, and we parted. 
 
 With Charles I sat with some hours ; and all I had to 
 relate of the transactions between his father and myself, 
 seemed to afford him better medicines than the druggist’s 
 shop could supply. 1 saw not the baroness ; but after 
 my return to the house of Martin Vern, the baron came, 
 and we passed neaily three hours in making every 
 arrangement. The good merchant sat by and listened 
 gravely, even sadly. Once I saw him bury his eyes in 
 liis hands, and he sighed often and deeply ; but he pro- 
 mised all that we required, in regard to his own aid ; 
 and when the baron asked him if he did not think that 
 our plan must certainly succeed, he replied, with a smile 
 that I afterwards understood better, “ I will stake my 
 life upon it.” 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIII. 
 
 It was two o’clock in the morning of Sunday, the 24th 
 of August, St. Bartholomew’s day, in the year 1572, 
 when I reached the porte cochere of the Baron de Blanc- 
 ford. The whole town was still ; and the soft, balmy air 
 of the summer night fanned my cheek like the breath 
 
310 THE MAH AT ABMS j 
 
 of love. The wicket was, as I had expected, open ; and 
 behind it was Moric Endem, armed only with the usual 
 weapons of daily defence, with the addition of a pistol 
 in case of need. He was masked, however, as it was 
 agreed that we all should be ; and pointing to a small 
 door on the other side of the court, he whispered, “ By 
 that door and up the stairs, sir ? You will find Andriot 
 and two others there.” 
 
 I looked towards the porter’s room, fearing lest the 
 least noise should disturb those we wished to slumber. 
 All was quiet, however ; and passing across the court, I 
 found the door held open by Andriot. On the first 
 landing-place of the stairs, there was another of my 
 men ; and higher up, a third. On the next landing, 
 there appeared a light shining through a door a-jar, and 
 I gently pushed it open and entered. It admitted me to 
 a small ante room ; and watching on the opposite side, 
 was Albert de Blancford. The noble boy embraced me 
 gladly ; and, with a whispered word or two of joyful 
 congratulation, led me into the room beyond. There 
 stood Louise, somewhat pale and agitated; but the dear 
 girl suffered not such feelings to veil or check her affec- 
 tion for the man she loved ; and starting forward from 
 the side of old La Tour, she cast herself into my arms. 
 I soothed and caressed her for a moment; while the 
 good old pastor came forward, and grasped me eagerly 
 by the hand. The contract of our marriage lay upon 
 the table ; but we had many words to say to each other, 
 and had not yet signed it, when the door behind us 
 opened, and the baron himself entered. 
 
 Is it done ?” he asked, anxiously : “ has it taken 
 place? Be quick, Henri ! — be quick! ” he added, seeing 
 that the contract was still unsigned. “ I fear and shall 
 fear, for your happiness, my children, till the act is irre- 
 vocable.” 
 
 O happy interruption to words, every one of which 
 occupied those moments that bore Fate upon their 
 wings ! Gladly we signed the paper, — gladly we pro- 
 nounced the vow that bound us to each other, — gladly I 
 
OB, HENEI DE CEBOM, 311 
 
 placed the mystic symbol of eternal union on the hand 
 of her I loved. 
 
 *• Now ! ” cried the baron, as soon as the whole was 
 completed, — “now depart at once! You will find good 
 Dame Marguelette without the walls, at the spot where 
 your horses wait. Bless thee, my Louise ! — bless thee ! 
 Be kind to her, Henri, and love none but her ; be 
 warned — be warned by what you have seen and know 
 Get thee to bed, Albert, and let all now be quiet in 
 the house.” 
 
 Louise trembled a good deal ; but I led her on ; and 
 gradually, as the severing from her father’s house 
 seemed more complete, she clung to me more closely. 
 The baron, with his own hand, shut the door behind us, 
 and step by step we descended the dark stairs. 
 
 “ I have thought it better, dear Louise,” I said, as we 
 reached the bottom of the stairs, “ that we should both 
 be screened from notice as far as possible ; and I have 
 here a nun’s gown, if you can throw it over your other 
 clothes. Where is the gown, Andriot ?” 
 
 He gave it me, and Louise covered her white dress 
 with the gray serge. But, as she was in the very act of 
 putting it on, to my surprise, I heard the great and 
 remarkable bell of St. Germain l’Auxerois begin to ring 
 loudly, as if for matins; and scarcely had I hurried 
 Louise across the court into the street, when loud shouts 
 were heard from different parts of the town. The bells 
 of all the churches were now heard ringing, — the light 
 of torches and flambeaux was seen advancing from the 
 side of the Louvre ; and it was evident that, notwith- 
 standing the profound stillness which had reigned in the 
 city as I passed along, one part, at least, of the popula- 
 tion had been up and watchful. 
 
 A moment after, we heard a loud and piercing shriek 
 in the distance, and Louise, trembling in every limb, 
 clung to my arm. At first she seemed to think that all 
 this referred to ourselves, — that we were discovered, 
 and about to be dragged back ; but the cries from every 
 part of the town soon undeceived her : and as I remem- 
 
812 
 
 THE MAN AT ARMS; 
 
 bered the various little incidents of the last three days — • 
 the warning of young Martin Vern, — the eager and 
 pressing invitation of the prince dauphin, I doubted not 
 that some dark and horrible scheme for the destruction 
 of all the Protestants in Paris was in the act of exe- 
 cution. 
 
 Morie Endem closed the door behind us, and, with 
 the other men, sprung to my side; and remembering 
 the caution of the young merchant, I drew Louise on, 
 with scarcely a word, towards his dwelling. 
 
 The street in which we were was still nearly vacant, 
 with the exception of some people bearing torches, who 
 were coming from the further end; but, just as we quitted 
 the shadow of the Hotel de Blancford, a man darted 
 forth from a door- way on the other side, crying, “Help ! 
 help ! Here are Protestants escaping ! ” and at the 
 same time, he seized me by the arm, and aimed a blow 
 at my head. He was masked, but the voice w r as that of 
 De Blaye, and he certainly would have cut me down/ had 
 not Moric Endem, always prompt and cool, levelled his 
 pistol at the assailant’s head, and fired. He fell dead 
 upon the spot ; but the ciy had brought a number of the 
 torchmen down at full speed, and I certainly thought 
 that our hour was come. 
 
 Moric’s wit, however, now saved us, as his ready 
 courage had done. He seemed to comprehend the 
 whole in a moment ; and, as his religion never stood in 
 the way of his proceedings, he burst out in a loud 
 laugh, as the men came up, crying, “ That Maheutre of 
 a Huguenot will need no more. By the mass, if I had 
 not had my pistol he would have murdered some of us. 
 There, drag him along by the heels to Montfaucon. So 
 perish all enemies of the true Church ! ” 
 
 “ Bravo ! bravo ! ” cried the torchmen, completely 
 deceived by these words, and taking us for zealous 
 Catholics; “come on! come on!” and on we hurried 
 after them as closely as we could. But the house of 
 Martin Vern was far off. The streets were beginning 
 to swarm with people ; we saw two doors burst open, to 
 
318 
 
 OH, HEtfRI DE CEliQXS. 
 
 pillage the houses and massacre the inhabitants, ere we 
 reached the end of the street ; the whole scene of that 
 diabolical massacre was around us ; and Louise could 
 not keep up with the men, whose mistake might still 
 have saved us if we could have gone on in their com- 
 pany. Nothing then but certain death seemed to present 
 itself on every side ; the only chance of safety was in 
 putting Moric Endem at the head of our troop ; but he 
 was known to so many Catholics as well as Protestants, 
 that the first order to unmask would have betrayed all. 
 
 As we were following the other party at some distance, 
 five or six people came up from the opposite direction, 
 and spoke a moment to those before us. There was a 
 woman with these new-comers ; but they stopped, and 
 one man advanced, saying, “ Unmask !” 
 
 Moric was about to cut him down, but I stopped him, 
 and replied, “ Unmask yourself.” 
 
 “ Ha ! ” cried the other, who proved to be young 
 Martin Yern, “ I was seeking you, Monsieur les Bois. 
 We shall save you still. Miriam, link yourself with 
 the lady — my men mingle with their men. Let none of 
 your party,” he added, in a low tone, “ unmask ; we will 
 do that if need should be. Now, shout, my men, and 
 wave your torches. Up with the Catholic Church! 
 Down with the Maheutres ! ” 
 
 “ O my father ! my father ! ” said Louise to me, in a 
 low voice ; “ can we not save my father ? 0 Henri ! 
 
 Henri ! think of him ! ” 
 
 I spoke a word upon the subject to the young mer- 
 chant ; but he stopped me sharply ere I could finish my 
 sentence. “ I am risking my life by what I am doing 
 even now. Speak not of it ! He has a Catholic wife ; 
 she will save his house. — Come on ! come on ! You will 
 see such sights as will make you glad of your own 
 lives ! ” 
 
 I whispered to Louise the hope that he gave me, 
 scanty as it was ; and alas ! as we hastened onward, 
 the sights we saw did fully justify that which the young 
 merchant had said. 
 
314 THE MAST AT ASMS} 
 
 Before we had gone half a mile the streets of Paris 
 were one scene of massacre and horror. The whole 
 place was blazing with torches ; large parties of armed 
 men on foot and on horseback were scouring the streets, 
 killing every one even suspected of Protestantism ; and 
 many a Catholic, too, was slain in the anarchy of the 
 time, who stood between fair estates and greedy rela- 
 tions. Six or seven we saw murdered before our eyes ; 
 and several times, while the echoing screams of new 
 victims were heard within the houses, a dead body was 
 cast forth from the upper windows into the streets as 
 we were passing. Instantly a crowd of the dark and 
 sallow villains that crowd the lanes and alleys of every 
 great metropolis, gathered round, like vultures, over 
 the corpse, to strip it of its clothing; and often was 
 heard the low groan, or faint cry, which followed the 
 dagger- stroke that ended what the assassins above had 
 left unfinished. 
 
 As we approached the banks of the river, however, 
 the scene became still more terrible, and still more con- 
 fused. Thousands of figures, all bent on the same 
 bloody business, whirled round us in every direction; 
 the cries of the victims, the shouts of their butchers, 
 the breaking in of doors and windows, the occasional 
 discharge of fire-arms, the incessant ringing of the bells, 
 the beating of drums, and the sounding of trumpets, 
 made a noise perfectly deafening; while the sights that 
 were now presented as clearly as if it had been day, 
 made the heart sick with horror and agony and in- 
 dignant grief. In one gate-way alone, I saw piled up so 
 many human bodies, amongst which were two women, 
 that the gate could not be shut ; and as I kept my eyes 
 upon the ground, I saw that the gutters flowed red with 
 blood. A little further on, a boy of thirteen or fourteen 
 years of age was seen dragging along a naked corpse by 
 the heels; and, further still, a fiend of a woman ap- 
 peared pressing out the last breath from the body of a 
 creature like herself, while she tore the rich clothes from 
 her dying limbs, 
 
Ob, iiEimi de cebons. 33.5 
 
 Ail those of a better class that appeared active in the 
 massacre — at least all I saw — were masked ; but much 
 happened even close to me that I beheld not at all; for 
 my whole thoughts were taken up with the situation of 
 the dear girl by my side, and I feared every moment that 
 her strength would fail through terror, horror, and 
 agitation. She hung heavily upon my arm, it is true, 
 but still she did not give way. With her eyes bent 
 down upon the ground, she hurried on, while the kind 
 girl Miriam, though evidently terribly agitated herself, 
 poured strengthening and consoling words into her ear, 
 and supported her on the other side. 
 
 Three times we were stopped and commanded to un- 
 mask; but either a single word from young Martin 
 Vem or Moric Endem’s well-imitated shout of “ Down 
 with the Huguenots ! ” obtained us a free passage 
 without uncovering our faces. 
 
 At length the long-wished-for sight of the street in 
 which the merchant lived presented itself ; but at that 
 very spot we were stopped by a crowd of wild rabble 
 whom no words would pacify ; and even when the young 
 merchant and two of those who were with him pulled 
 off their vizards, a furious man, brandishing a sword, 
 swore that he gave a false name, and was calling out to 
 kill him, when Moric Endem started forward, exclaim- 
 ing, “ Ha ! Gouquant ! Huguenot ! Maheutre that you 
 are ! Knock his brains out, Martin ! Knock his brains 
 out ! He was Coligny’s horse-boy at Moncontour, and 
 was taken. Knock his brains out! knock his brains 
 out ! He is a Huguenot shamming Catholic ! ” 
 
 With his drawn sword in his hand Moric rushed for- 
 ward, and before he could be stopped cut the man down 
 “ By the mass there are more Huguenots amongst 
 i them,” he cried, springing at another man. “Kill them 
 all! kill them all! Down with the Huguenots!” but 
 the men fled in every direction, and left the street clear. 
 
 Young Martin Vem, however, paused and looked 
 angrily upon Moric Endem, saying, “ This must ba 
 answered/ 
 
816 
 
 THE MAH AT ASMS ; 
 
 “ It is answered in six words,” replied Moric. “ The 
 man is what I said. He is Gouquant, who was horse- 
 boy to the admiral, and has since, I hear, been cut- 
 throat for any one that wanted one here in Paris.” 
 
 Nobody could contradict him, and the young merchant 
 hurried on. 
 
 Oh, with what joy and satisfaction did I see the great 
 doors of the merchant’s court-yard close behind us, and 
 held my poor half-fainting Louise to my heart in a 
 momentary dream of safety. But that dream was soon 
 dispelled, for I heard one of the men, as pale as death, 
 telling the good youth who had protected us, that the 
 whole place had been twice searched for. me and my 
 followers already. 
 
 The next moment there was a low rap at the gate, 
 and, on looking through the grating, we saw the two 
 elder merchants, with a foot-boy, and immediately gave 
 them admission. Martin Vern’s face was sad and pale, 
 however. 
 
 “ They refuse to open the city gates on any account,” 
 he said, as soon as the door was closed. “Nay, cheer 
 up, sweet lady, we will find means to save you. Miriam, 
 what says your quick wit ? To-morrow the search will 
 be stricter and more orderly — not less fatal, though. 
 How can we get them out of the city?” 
 
 “ By the river ! ” said the girl, eagerly, “ by the river ! 
 My father’s barge, that brought all the gold plate from 
 Rouen, lies just at the back of our garden.” 
 
 “ But to get to the back of your house, Miriam,” 
 said the merchant, “ they must pass round through 
 that awful street where the blood is now flowing like 
 water.” 
 
 “ Over the tops of the houses ! ” cried the girl ; “ over 
 the roof ! I know there is a way. You, dear Martin, 
 run round and tell my father to open the door above. 
 I will guide them thither.” 
 
 The young merchant paused not a moment, and his 
 uncle as eagerly and rapidly led us out upon the tops 
 of their warehouses. Tremendous was the lurid glare 
 
317 
 
 OB, HE1STBI BE CEBOtfS. 
 
 that rose up from the streets below ; tremendous the 
 mingled roar of terrific sounds that reached us as we 
 hurried along the narrow and giddy way. It was like 
 walking along the precipice verge of hell itself; and I do 
 not think that Louise could have borne it long had not 
 good Martin Vern soon led us into a sort of alley be- 
 tween the double roofs of the houses. 
 
 It was with some difficulty that we found out which 
 was the roof of the good Jew’s house ; but at length 
 Miriam fixed upon it and knocked at a small door in the 
 side. For several moments there was no answer, and 
 she knocked again. Then, however, came the sound 
 of steps hurrying up, and hands unsteady, it seemed, 
 with age or fear, unlocked the door on the other side. 
 As soon as it was opened, the head of Solomon Ahar 
 appeared, his limbs shaking, and his face pale. 
 
 “ Blessed be God ! ” he cried. “ Blessed he God ! 
 Come in, my children ! come in ! All is safe here. I 
 always make my house doubly strong. Ah ! bless your 
 sweet face, lady, you look pale, and well you may ; but 
 the boat will save you ; it is close to the shore, in the 
 little creek I had made to unload my merchandise. I 
 owe my life to the good lord, your lover, there ! ” 
 
 “ My husband ! ” said Louise, in a tone that I shall 
 never forget ; and, casting herself upon my bosom, she 
 wept. Her tears were soon dried, however, and we hur- 
 ried down to the bank. 
 
 As it was probable that we might be fired upon, some 
 large piles of faggots were given us to make a sort of 
 screen on either side, and also to give the barge the 
 appearance of a mere wood-boat. A large bag of money 
 was placed in my hands by Martin Yern ; Miriam 
 brought dowm some rich cushions for Louise to lie 
 upon: the Jew himself added wine and provisions, and 
 Moric Endem, doing his best to assume the appearance 
 of a common boatman, aided another of the men to 
 push away from the shore and get into the middle of 
 the river. 
 
 As we slowly made our way along, the horrid sounds 
 from the centre of the town seemed to decrease; but 
 
318 
 
 THE MAH AT ARMS ; 
 
 just in passing near the walls the guards first called out 
 to stop, and then fired upon us. But their shot did us 
 no harm, and, ere they could load and fire again, we 
 were out of reach. We passed the suburb, too, in 
 safety ; and, oh, how strange was the sensation, when 
 we felt the boat gliding on through the calm, noiseless 
 scenes of the country, and saw the tranquil morning 
 light glowing warmly in the East! 
 
 According to the arrangements between the baron 
 and myself, our horses, and the rest of my followers, 
 with good Dame Marguelette, had been stationed at a 
 little cabaret, not a hundred yards from the river, and 
 Moric, who knew the spot, engaged to land us, and lead 
 us thither at once. He was not one to mistake, and 
 we put ourselves entirely under his guidance. When 
 the boat touched the shore, however, I thought I heard 
 many persons talking at a distance, and landed first 
 to see. 
 
 As I approached the rendezvous, I saw, by the gray 
 light of dawn, a much larger body of horse than that 
 which I expected ; and, pausing, I was on the eve of 
 returning to the barge, when I perceived a young man 
 dismounted, and pacing eagerly backwards and forwards, 
 but every now and then halting to look upon the road. 
 I thought that I could not be mistaken in the figure, 
 and, as I advanced a little nearer, the face of the prince 
 dauphin became more distinct. At the same moment, 
 he caught a sight of me ; and, darting forward, he 
 grasped me by the hand, saying, “ Thank God ! — but 
 oh, De Cerons, you are surely not alone ! ” 
 
 I told him briefly what had happened, and he replied, 
 “ Lose not a moment ! Bring them all here. There is 
 a litter for the lady, and an escort of my own men, with 
 a safe-conduct from my father. But you must put 
 twenty leagues between you and Paris ere you sleep ; 
 for here, at this moment, no man could be certain of 
 saving his own brother from hour to hour. No words, 
 De Cerons, but away ! To Geneva ! to Geneva ! if you 
 ^vould have safety.” 
 
 No words, indeed, were spent in vain. Louise and 
 
319 
 
 OB, HENBI BE CEBONS. 
 
 the rest were brought up from the boat, and, ere twenty 
 minutes had passed, we were on our road to Switzer- 
 land. 
 
 It was not till we had passed the French frontier, that 
 I could believe the beloved being who was now my own, 
 was in safety. But my joy was soon mingled with deep 
 grief ; for at Geneva we learned, for the first time, the 
 extent of our loss, and found that the barony of Blanc- 
 ford, as well as the lordship of Cerons, had fallen to 
 one who wept to receive them. The baron and his two 
 sons had been massacred. Good La Tour, too, was 
 amongst the gone ; and the Baroness de Blancford her- 
 self had not been suffered, by the wild beasts that were 
 let loose upon the Protestants of France, to escape that 
 fate which she made no effort to avert from her 
 husband. 
 
 THE END 
 
 Y/OODFALL AND KINDER PRINTERS, LONG ACRE, LONDOIf. 
 
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