The prince threw his bridle over the pommel of the saddle, as he was wont to do when he wished to have both hands free, unsealed the letter of Madame de Longueville and started at a gallop on the road to Lens, attended by Raoul and his small escort, whilst messengers sent to recall the troops set out with a loose rein in other directions. The prince read as he hastened on.
“Monsieur,” he said, after a moment, “they tell me great things of you. I have only to say, after the little that I have seen and heard, that I think even better of you than I have been told.”
Raoul bowed.
Meanwhile, as the little troop drew nearer to Lens, the noise of the cannon sounded louder. The prince kept his gaze fixed in the direction of the sound with the steadfastness of a bird of prey. One would have said that his gaze could pierce the branches of trees which limited his horizon. From time to time his nostrils dilated as if eager for the smell of powder, and he panted like a horse.
At length they heard the cannon so near that it was evident they were within a league of the field of battle, and at a turn of the road they perceived the little village of Aunay.
The peasants were in great commotion. The report of Spanish cruelty had gone out and every one was frightened. The women had already fled, taking refuge in Vitry; only a few men remained. On seeing the prince they hastened to meet him. One of them recognized him.
“Ah, my lord,” he said, “have you come to drive away those rascal Spaniards and those Lorraine robbers?”
“Yes,” said the prince, “if you will serve me as guide.”
“Willingly, my lord. Where does your highness wish to go?”
“To some elevated spot whence I can look down on Lens and the surrounding country——”