"And now," Antonicq completed the sentence, "united by the bonds of firm friendship. May the same be kept ever green among our descendants."
"It is my fervent hope, my dear Antonicq. I am bringing up my children in that feeling. More than once have I cited to them incidents from your family legends, to the end that their young minds may be penetrated with the sense that the rights, the privileges, the titles of which the nobility boasts so loudly, and which it guards so jealously, have for their principle or origin the abominable acts of violence that conquest brings in its train."
During the conversation between Colonel Plouernel and Antonicq the regiment pursued its march under shelter of the ridge that it skirted. The further end of the ridge sloped gradually down to the level of the field, watered by the lake and the stream which protected the front of the royal camp. The attacking column, which, obedient to the orders of the Admiral, marched in silence, was expected to reach the open before sunrise, and thus be able to open the assault unexpectedly upon the strongly entrenched outposts, that were planted on the lake road. The execution of the plan was frustrated by the martial impatience of the volunteers, whom Pastor Feron in his exaltation drove to a fever heat of excitement with his blind faith in the irresistible power of the arm of Israel. The Huguenots were still half an hour's march from the enemy when the pastor, who marched ahead of the silent drummers, suddenly intoned in a ringing voice the psalm well known to the Protestants:
| "The Eternal looks down from above, |
| Night and day from out the skies, |
| On all men bestowing love, |
| And nothing escapes His eyes. |
| "From His throne august, |
| The holy King and just |
| Sees below distinctly, |
| Of man the distant race, |
| Through th' abyss of space |
| Sees it all distinctly. |
| "Nor camps nor yet gendarmes, |
| Nor all the strong alarms |
| Can ever save a king! |
| Nor iron nor courage |
| Are of a good usage, |
| Oh, Lord, without Thy aid. |
| "Yes, God His wings doth spread, |
| On us His grace doth shed. |
| And ever mounteth guard |
| O'er those who Him esteem. |
| None other worthy deem |
| But only Him regard." |
No sooner had the pastor struck up the psalm with its biblical poetry, than each couplet was repeated in chorus by the Huguenots. Nothing could be more solemn than that choir of three thousand male and sonorous voices, rising from the silent plain, and seeming to salute with a martial hymn the first rays of that day of battle. Nevertheless, sadly inopportune, the canticle announced to the enemy the approach of the Protestants. Driven to despair by the infraction of the Admiral's orders, Colonel Plouernel sought at first to restore silence by addressing himself to the foremost companies. Vain hope; vain entreaties. The soldiers wrought themselves up with their own voice.
"Oh, this lack of discipline will ever be fatal to us!" observed Colonel Plouernel to Antonicq. "Thus have we almost always either endangered the success of a battle, or even lost the day that otherwise would positively have been ours! But the error is committed. The enemy is informed of our proximity. Let it at least be announced resolutely!"
And addressing the drummers:
"Boys, beat the double-quick!"
The drums immediately resounded without however drowning the voices of the Protestants—an imposing military orchestra. The column hastened its steps. After half an hour's rapid march its front ranks debouched into the open field. Piercing a heavy bank of clouds, the first rays of the sun crimsoned the face of a wide lake into which emptied a stream that itself was fed by a number of streamlets which descended from an elevated plateau, dominated by the burg of Roche-la-Belle. The lake and main stream were hemmed in on the side of the royal entrenchments, and constituted the enemy's first line of defense. A thick chestnut forest rose to the left of the lake. The lake road ran at right angles, and was fortified by an earthwork, furnished with embrasures, and these armed with falconets. This light artillery could sweep the whole length of the water-courses, which had to be crossed in order to attack a palisaded ground, which, crenelated with loop-holes for the use of arquebusiers, completed the defenses of the Catholic army. Finally, a number of heavy guns, mounted upon a high embankment, could also play upon the water-course. A cross-fire thus rendered the crossing doubly dangerous. This particular peril would have been almost wholly escaped had the Admiral's orders been obeyed. Had the attacking column arrived noiselessly at break of day and taken the royalists by surprise when still rolled in slumbers, and before they could hurry to their light and heavy guns and form their ranks, the Huguenots could have crossed the stream and, soon supported by their whole army corps, could have led a powerful attack upon the enemy's position. It happened otherwise. The reverberations of the hymn sung by the Huguenots sounded the reveille to the enemy, and frustrated the Admiral's plans. From all sides the drums of the Catholics were sounding the call to arms when the first company of the Protestants debouched upon the plain. Colonel Plouernel ordered a halt, alighted from his horse, gathered his captains around him and, in order to avoid further mishaps said to them:
"We can no longer hope to take the enemy by surprise. I shall now communicate to you my new plan of attack."