It was some time before, with all our care, she recovered consciousness; and even then, in her wild, excited glance, one might read the struggles of her mind to credit what had occurred. A few broken, unconnected phrases would escape her at intervals; and she seemed laboring to regain the lost clew to her recollections, when again she turned her eyes towards me. At the same instant, the trumpet sounded without for the réveil, and was answered by many a call from other parties around. With a steadfast gaze of wonderment she fixed her look on me; and twice passed her hands across her eyes, as though she doubted the evidence of her senses.
“Minette, hear me! let me speak but one word.” “There it is again,” cried she, as the blast rang out a second time, and the clatter of horsemen resounded from the street. “Adieu, sir; our roads lie not together. Father, your blessing; if your good counsel this night has not made its way to my heart, the lesson has come elsewhere. Good-by! good-by!” She pressed the old man's hand to her lips, and darted from the room.
Stunned, and like one spell-bound, I could not move for a few seconds; and then, with a wild cry, I bounded after her through the garden. The wicket, however, was fastened on the outside, and it was some time before I could scale the wall and reach the street.
The day was just breaking, but already the village was thronged with soldiers, who were preparing for the march, and arranging their parties to conduct the wagons. Hurrying on through the crowded and confused mass, I looked on every side for the vivandière; but in vain. Groups of different regiments passed and repassed me; but to my questions they returned either a jeering reply, or a mere laugh of derision. “But a few days ago,” thought I, “and these fellows had scarce dared to address me; and now—” Oh, the blighting misery of that thought! I was no longer a soldier; the meanest horseman of his troop was my superior.
I passed through the village, and reached the highroad. Before me was a party of dragoons, escorting a drove of cattle; I hastened after them, but on coming near, discovered they were a light cavalry detachment. Sick at heart, I leaned against a tree at the wayside, when again I heard the tramp of horses approaching. I looked, and saw the tall helmets of the Fourth, who were coming slowly along, conducting some large wagons, drawn by eight or ten horses. In front of the detachment rode a man, whose enormous stature made him at once remarkable, as well as the air of soldierly bearing he displayed. Beside him was Minette; the reins had fallen on her horse's neck, and her face was buried in her hands.
“Ah! if I had thought that priest would have made thee so sad, Mademoiselle, I'd have let him spend his night beneath a wagon rather than in my quarters,” said a deep, hollow voice I at once recognized as that of Pioche. “But the morning air will revive thee; so let us forward: by threes—open order—trot.”
The word was obeyed; the heavy tramp of the horses, with the dull roll of the wagons, drowned all other sounds The cortège moved on, and I was alone.