"Good God!" exclaimed the Count; "is the Duc du Rouvré at Thouars?" and a confused image of the truth, that Clémence de Marly had been one of the two persons found in the prison with Claude de l'Estang, now flashed on his mind. Ere the old man could reply, however, two of the persons who were following, and who seemed to have ridden some way to the left of the direct road, rode up as fast as they could come, and informed the Count de Morseiul, that what seemed a large body of men, was marching up towards their flank by a path which ran up the hollow-way between them and the opposite hills.
The little force of the Count had by this time emerged from the woods, and was marching along the side of the hill, that gradually sank away into those landes, across which Armand Herval had, as we have seen, led Clémence de Marly. Up the valley, on the left, lay a deep ravine, bringing the cross road from Thouars into the road in which the Huguenots were, so that the flank of the Count's force was exposed to the approach of the enemy on that side, though it had somewhat the advantage of the ground. No other line, however, had been open for him, the country on the other side leading into tracts much more exposed to attack; and, in fact, on that morning no choice had been left but either to run the risk of what now appeared to have happened, or to leave Herval and his men to their fate, they not having joined the main force on the preceding day as they had been directed to do.
The Count instantly turned his horse's head galloped to the spot from whence the men had seen the head of the enemy's column, paused for a single instant, in order, if possible, to ascertain their force, and then riding back, commanded the small troop, which he called his legion, to face about. While, by his orders, they traversed a piece of broken ground to the left, so as to approach a spot where the hollow-way debouched upon the open country, he sent five or six of his attendants with rapid orders to the different noblemen who were under his command, in regard to assuming a position upon the hill.
"Tell Monsieur du Bar," he said to one of the men, "to march on as quickly as possible till he reaches the windmill, to garnish that little wood on the slope with musketeers, to plant the two pieces of cannon by the mill so as to bear upon the road, to strengthen himself by the mill and the walls round it, and to hold that spot firm to the very last. Jean, bid the Marquis send off a man instantly to Herval, that he may join us with his Chauve-souris, and in the mean time ask him to keep the line of the hill from the left of Monsieur du Bar to the cottage on the slope, so that the enemy may not turn our flank. If I remember right, there are two farm roads there, so that all movements will be easy from right to left, or from front to rear. As soon as Herval comes up, let the Marquis throw him forward, with his marksmen, to cover my movements, and then commence the general retreat by detachments from each flank, holding firm by the mill and the wood to the last; for they dare not advance while those are in our hands. I can detain them here for a quarter of an hour, but not longer.--Sir Thomas Cecil," he added, "take my advice, and ride off for Thouars with all speed. This will be a place for plenty of bullets, but no glory."
Thus saying, he galloped down to his troop; and in a moment after the old English officer, who stood with the utmost sang-froid to witness the fight, saw him charge into the hollow-way at the head of his men.
CHAPTER IX.
[THE BATTLE AND THE RETREAT.]
We must now return to the small shepherds cottage in the landes; and, passing over the intervening day which had been occupied in the burial of the good pastor, we must take up the story of Clémence de Marly on the morning of which we have just been speaking. At an early hour on that day Armand Herval came into the cottage, where the people were setting before her the simple meal of ewe milk and black bread, which was all that they could afford to give; and, standing by her side with somewhat of a wild air, he asked her if she were ready to go. She had seen him several times on the preceding day, and his behaviour had always been so respectful, his grief for the death of Claude de l'Estang so sincere, and the emotions which he displayed at the burial of the body in the sand so deep and unaffected, that Clémence had conceived no slight confidence in a man, whom she might have shrunk from with terror, had she known that in him she beheld the same plunderer, who, under the name of Brown Keroual, had held her for some time a prisoner in the forest near Auron.
"To go where, Sir?" she demanded, with some degree of agitation. "I knew not that I was about to go any where."
"Oh, yes!" replied the man, in the same wild way. "We should have gone yesterday, and I shall be broke for insubordination. You do not know how stern he is when he thinks fit, and how no prayers or intreaties can move him."