Meanwhile Raoul closely observed the young general, already made so famous by the battles of Rocroy, Fribourg, and Nordlingen.
Louis de Bourbon, Prince de Condé, who, since the death of his father, Henri de Bourbon, was called, in accordance with the custom of that period, Monsieur le Prince, was a young man, not more than twenty-six or twenty-seven years old, with the eye of an eagle—agl’ occhi grifani, as Dante says—aquiline nose, long, waving hair, of medium height, well formed, possessed of all the qualities essential to the successful soldier—that is to say, the rapid glance, quick decision, fabulous courage. At the same time he was a man of elegant manners and strong mind, so that in addition to the revolution he had made in war, by his new contributions to its methods, he had also made a revolution at Paris, among the young noblemen of the court, whose natural chief he was and who, in distinction from the social leaders of the ancient court, modeled after Bassompierre, Bellegarde and the Duke d’Angouleme, were called the petits-maitres.
At the first words of the Count de Guiche, the prince, having in mind the direction whence came the sound of cannon, had understood everything. The enemy was marching upon Lens, with the intention, doubtless, of securing possession of that town and separating from France the army of France. But in what force was the enemy? Was it a corps sent out to make a diversion? Was it an entire army? To this question De Guiche could not respond.
Now, as these questions involved matters of gravest consequence, it was these to which the prince had especially desired an answer, exact, precise, positive.
Raoul conquered the very natural feeling of timidity he experienced and approaching the prince:
“My lord,” he said, “will you permit me to hazard a few words on that subject, which will perhaps relieve you of your uncertainty?”
The prince turned and seemed to cover the young man with a single glance; he smiled on perceiving that he was a child hardly fifteen years old.
“Certainly, monsieur, speak,” he said, softening his stern, accented tones, as if he were speaking to a woman.
“My lord,” said Raoul, blushing, “might examine the Spanish prisoner.”
“Have you a Spanish prisoner?” cried the prince.