"Beaten!" cried the princess, turning pale; "beaten! it isn't possible!"
"Beaten!" murmured the viscountess; "beaten by Monsieur de Canolles!"
"How did it happen, I pray to know?" demanded Madame de Condé, in a freezing tone eloquent of her bitter indignation.
"It happened, madame, as all miscalculations happen, in play, in love, in war; we attacked those who were more clever or stronger than ourselves."
"Pray is this Monsieur de Canolles such a gallant fellow?" queried the princess.
Madame de Cambes' heart throbbed with delight.
"Oh! mon Dieu!" replied La Rochefoucauld with a shrug, "not more so than another! But as he had fresh soldiers, stout walls, and was on the lookout for us, having probably received warning of our attack, he had the advantage of our good Bordelais. Ah! madame, let me remark parenthetically that they are sorry soldiers! They ran away at the second volley."
"And Navailles?" cried Claire, heedless of the imprudence of such a demonstration.
"Madame," replied La Rochefoucauld, "the only difference between Navailles and the militia is that the militia ran away, and Navailles fell back."
"The only thing we lack now is to lose Vayres!"