"I wish we had not quitted Annet, my beloved," exclaimed the young nobleman; "but see, there are more lights. 'Tis this orchard that hid them. Yes, yes! dear Rose, we are at length coming near the camp."
"Thank God!" replied Rose d'Albret: but she said no more; for with the sense of relief which she experienced at the thought of finding repose even for a night, were mingled manifold doubts and apprehensions regarding the future, as well as all the complicated emotions which might well thrill through a woman's heart, at the idea of presenting herself before the many eyes of a strange court, under such circumstances, and at such a moment.
As they advanced, and turned the low wall of a small farm, a new scene broke upon their sight. The village, which was extensive, stretched away to the right; and, amongst the gardens and orchards, a thousand lights were to be seen, either passing along from one place to another as officers and messengers sped from regiment to regiment, or fixed though flickering in one place, where the soldiery had lighted fires to keep themselves warm during the night and to dry their clothing, wetted by the frequent showers which had diversified the day.
Sounds innumerable too met the ear as they came nearer,--first a faint noise, then a mingled roar like the rushing of a torrent; and then various noises began to detach themselves from the rest,--loud laughter--the merry song--the solemn hymn--the hoarse shout--the word of command--the call of one companion to another--the hammering of the blacksmith's anvil--the groaning of the forge--the clash of steel, as the armourers and farriers plied the busy stroke, repairing arms and shoeing horses, and once or twice the shrill blast of the trumpet.
No challenge was given as they rode on, for the position of the enemy was now exactly ascertained, and surprise was not expected; but one or two of the officers advanced to the side of the road from the neighbouring gardens, and gazed for an instant upon the passing troop, to see if they recognised any friends amongst the new comers, as the light of the watch-fire flashed upon their faces.
Notwithstanding fatigue, anxiety, and fear, Rose d'Albret could not but feel the excitement of the scene. Sometimes guarded by palisades, sometimes sheltered by the low walls, sometimes in the open field, they passed innumerable groups of soldiers seated round their fires, and just concluding their evening meal. Marks of toil and strife were on the faces of all, whether of the gay Catholic or the stern and rigid Huguenot; and no glittering coats of arms, no jewels and embroidery were there, nothing but cold grey steel, and buff coats, and caps rusty with long exposure to the rain, and scarred and weather-beaten countenances, on which, however, sat an expression of confidence and fearless preparation, which is often an omen of success.
Round some of the fires the veterans were telling tales of former wars, and victories long since achieved. At others, one selected for his voice or skill, was singing; and, whether Papist or Protestant, whether his song was the gay ballad of the day, or one of the canticles of the Reformers, it still spoke the fearless expectation of triumph.
At a slow pace, for the weary horses could hardly drag their limbs along, De Montigni and the lady advanced till they reached the entrance of the village; but here a guarded barricade opposed their further progress; and, as they could not give the word, the soldiers refused them admission.
"I am seeking the King," said the young nobleman; "send hither the officer of the watch as fast as you can; for we are very weary and must have repose."
Even as he spoke, a plain old man, whose dress betokened some rank in the army, approached the barrier, and replied to the last words he had uttered by saying, "Good faith, young gentleman! you will find no lodging in St. André. Two thirds of us are obliged to sleep in the streets. There is not a dog-kennel untenanted."