"You may tell them," replied Clémence, "that I was brought here indeed without my consent, though being here I must now remain voluntarily. My fate is decided."
"Do you mean to say, Madam?" demanded the old gentleman, bluffly, "that I am to tell them you are married? That is the only way in general that a woman's fate can be decided which I know of."
"No, Sir," replied Clémence, colouring, "there is in this country a different decision of one's fate. I am a Protestant! It must no longer, and it can no longer be concealed."
A bright and noble smile came upon the old man's countenance. "I beg your pardon, Madam," he said. "I have spoken somewhat rudely, perhaps; but I will deliver your message, and at some future time may ask your pardon, if you will permit me, for having called the colour into a lady's cheek, a thing that I am not fond of doing, though it be beautiful to see."
Thus saying, and bowing low, he was about to turn his horse and canter back again, when an eager look that lighted up Clémence's features, made him pause even before she spoke, and ride on a little further beside her.
"You came from the rear, Sir, I think," she said, in a low and faltering voice. "May I ask how has gone the day?--Is the Count de Morseiul safe?"
The old man smiled again sweetly upon her. "Madam," he said, "did not sad experience often show us that it were not so, I should think, from the fate of the Count of Morseiul this day, that a gallant and all daring heart is a buckler which neither steel nor lead can penetrate. I myself have sat and watched him, while in six successive charges he attacked and drove back an immensely superior force of the enemy's cavalry, charging and retreating every time under the most tremendous and well sustained fire of the light infantry on their flanks that ever I saw. Scarcely a man of his whole troop has escaped without wounds, and but too many are killed. The Count himself, however, is perfectly unhurt. I saw him five minutes ago bringing up the rear, and as by that time the enemy were showing no disposition to pursue vigorously, he may be considered as safe, having effected his retreat from a very difficult situation in the most masterly manner. Is there any one else, Madam, of whom I can give you information?"
"I fear not," replied the lady. "There is, indeed, one that I would fain ask for; but as you have been with the Count de Morseiul, probably you do not know him. I mean the Chevalier d'Evran."
"What, both the commanders!" exclaimed the old gentleman, with a smile which again called the colour into Clémence's cheek. "But I beg your pardon, Madam," he added; "I have a better right to tell tales than to make comments. In this instance I cannot give you such accurate information as I did in the other, for I do not know the person of the Chevalier d'Evran. But as far as this little perspective glass could show me, the gentleman who has been commanding the royal forces, and whom I was informed was the Chevalier d'Evran, is still commanding them, and apparently unhurt. I discovered him by his philomot scarf, and sword knot, after losing sight of him for a time. But he was still upon horseback, commanding in the midst of his staff, and has the credit of having won the day, though the immense superiority of his forces rendered any other result out of the question, even if he had not acted as well and skilfully as he has done. I will now once more beg pardon for intruding upon you, and trust that fair fortune and prosperity may attend you."
Thus saying, he turned and cantered away; and on looking round to her maid, Clémence perceived that Maria had drawn the hood of her grey cloak over her head.