Clémence de Marly could but raise her prayers to God for his blessing on the right cause. It was not fear that she felt, for fear is personal. It was awe. It was the impressive consciousness of being in the midst of mighty scenes, which sometimes in her moments of wild enthusiasm she had wished to see, but which she now felt to be no matter for sport or curiosity.
Another instant she was out upon the side of the hill beyond the wood; and the whole scene laid open before her. That scene was very awful, notwithstanding the confusion which prevented her from comprehending clearly what was going on. A large body of troops was evidently marching up the valley to the attack of the heights. A windmill surrounded by some low stone walls, not a hundred yards to the left of the spot where she was placed, appeared at the moment she first saw it one blaze of fire, from the discharge of musketry and cannon, which seemed to be directed, as far as she could judge, against the flank of a body of cavalry coming up a road in the valley. On the slope of the hill, however, to the right, a considerable body of infantry was making its way up to the attack of the farther angle of the wood, round which she herself had just passed; and, from amongst the trees and brushwood, nearly stripped of their leaves as they were, she could see poured forth almost an incessant torrent of smoke and flame upon the assailing party, seeming almost at every other step to make them waver, as if ready to turn back.
The object, however, which engaged her principal attention was a small body of horsemen, apparently rallying, and reposing for a moment, under shelter of the fire from the hill. Why she knew not,--for the features of none of those composing that party were at all discernible,--but her heart beat anxiously, as if she felt that there was some beloved being there.
The next instant that small body of men was again put in motion, and galloping down like lightning, might be seen, though half hidden by the clouds of dust, to hurl itself violently against the head of the advancing column, like an avalanche against some mighty rock. Almost at the same moment, however, an officer rode furiously up to Herval, and gave him some directions in a quick and eager voice. Herval merely nodded his head; then turned to the driver of the mules, and told him to make as much haste as he could towards Mortagne, along the high road.
"Remain with the head of the column," he said; "and, above all things, keep your beasts to the work, for you must neither embarrass the march, nor let the lady be left behind."
The man obeyed at once; but before he had left the brow of the hill, Clémence saw the band of Keroual begin to descend towards the small body of cavaliers we have mentioned, while a company of musketeers, at a very few yards distance from her, began to file off as if for retreat. All the confusion of such a scene succeeded, the jostling, the rushing, the quarrels, the reproaches, the invectives, which take place upon the retreat of an irregular force. But several bodies of better disciplined men taking their way along the road close to Clémence, preserved some order and gave her some protection; and as they passed rapidly onward, the sounds of strife and contention, the shouts and vociferations of the various commanders, the rattle of the small arms and the roar of the artillery, gradually diminished; and while Clémence hoped in her heart that the battle was over, she looked round for some one coming up from the rear to inquire for the fate of him for whom her heart had beat principally during that morning.
For about half an hour, however, nobody came, the retreat assumed the appearance of an orderly march, and all was going on tranquilly, when a horseman came up at a quick pace, and pulled in his charger beside the litter. Clémence looked towards him. It was not the face that she expected to see, but, on the contrary, that of a tall, thin, hale old man, perfectly a stranger to her. He pulled off his hat with military courtesy, and bowed low.
"I beg your pardon, Madam," he said, "but I have just been informed of your name, quality, and situation, and also with the circumstances of your being brought from Thouare hither. I come to say," he added, lowering his voice and bending down, "that I am just going to visit an old friend, the Duke de Rouvré, who, I understand, is your guardian. Now, I do not know whether you are here of your own good will, or whether there be any degree of force in the matter. Should you, however, be disposed to send any message to the Duke, I am ready to take it."
"I give you many thanks, Sir," replied Clémence, "but, of course, I can send no long message now, nor detailed explanation of my situation. Assure him only, and the Duchess, who has been a mother to me, of my deep love, and gratitude, and respect."
"But shall I tell them," said the old man, "that you are here with your consent, or without your consent?"