The enemy as now within ten miles' march of us; a battle was inevitable; and, of course, it was impossible even to think of retiring at that moment. Yet, ere the sun went down, I had only one desire, namely, to mount my horse and ride to Paris at full speed. At Guiscard, where we halted for the night, a courier reached me from the prince dauphin. The words of the letter were so few and prompt, that they evinced how eagerly and hastily my friend had written.
"If you can with honour," so the letter went, "give up your command and come to Paris, do so without a moment's delay. Your rival, without warning or notice of any kind, has returned--is in Paris, and in the house of the Baron de Blancford. You will blame me for this, but I can endure the blame; for, on my honour, I do not deserve it. His journey has been concealed with care; and, though I watched anxiously, have been deceived. Come quick, then, De Cerons, for you Protestants now carry everything at the court before you; and if you delay an hour, Monsieur de Blancford's influence may have overborne all. Think, too, what must be your course; for remember, that, as we both foresaw, your late opposition to the will of the father in the marriage of his own daughter was declared vexatious by the Parliament, and you were fined a hundred crowns. If you resolve on letting the sword decide between you and your rival, forget not your friend D'Auvergne."
Scarcely giving the messenger time to refresh himself, I despatched him with two letters, one to the Dauphin d'Auvergne, informing him of the position in which we stood with regard to the enemy, and telling him I would but stay to fight, and then hasten back to the capital; and the other to the good Martin Vern, whose parting words in regard to my love of Louise gave me the only glimpse of hope that could now visit me. To him I told all that had occurred as briefly as possible; but besought him, at all events, to use the utmost exertions to stop any hasty steps on the part of the baron.
It may easily be imagined that the tidings I had received did not reconcile me greatly to the mad folly of Genlis, and I began the march on the following morning out of spirits and out of humour; but the march of the whole force, the negligence and vain confidence with which Genlis conducted it, made a great addition to my discomfort. At length we came to a small stream, over which it was necessary to construct a bridge; and seeing, from the disarray of the whole force, that, if attacked at that moment by an enemy of one half our strength, we might be absolutely cut to pieces, I caused my men to seize upon the tower of an old church, which had before been pierced for musketry, and which, while the rest were busy at the bridge, I took some pains to strengthen, having an impression on my mind that we should meet with a check.
When the bridge was concluded we again began our advance, and entered a little wood, through which we straggled rather than marched. We had scarcely passed it, however, when a party which had been thrown forward was driven in, with a strong body of men-at-arms at their heels. I charged and broke the Spanish men-at-arms. But it now became evident that a trap had been laid for us: a tremendous fire was opened upon my men from a bed of osiers that flanked the ground; charge after charge of the enemy's cavalry took place; and, overwhelmed by numbers, as well as taken unaware, after maintaining a hopeless combat for near an hour and a half, we were obliged to fly as best we could. Genlis, it must be said, did all that courage, and skill, and coolness could do to remedy his former faults, but in vain. He himself was taken in endeavouring to cover the retreat of the infantry; and all I could do was to bring off a part--a very small part--of my own men, with one piece of artillery.
I was hotly pursued, however, and had no time to destroy the bridge. My only resource was to throw myself into the church, and defend it as long as possible. What I had done in the morning now proved my salvation. The cavalry who followed kept us blockaded during the whole of that night and a part of the next day, but they could not remain long enough to starve us out; we kept them at a distance with our firearms, and a small body of musketeers who joined them were driven back with loss.
At length I offered to capitulate, as I found the men beginning sadly to feel the want of water, and the terms granted me were certainly far more favourable than I dared hope. We were permitted to march out with our arms, but it was exacted from us that we should swear not to fight against the King of Spain for two complete years; and, well satisfied with the result, we retired from our post, and made the best of our way back to Noyon. It was there first that my young cousin Charles complained of a wound in the shoulder, but he represented it as slight; and, leaving the men we had brought off under his command, I set out for Paris with Moric Endem and one or two others, determined to obtain, if possible, through the intervention of the admiral, some reward for the gallant fellows who survived our defeat.
Albert de Blancford remained with his brother; but I afterward found that the wound of my poor cousin had that very night assumed so unfavourable an appearance that he was obliged to relinquish the command to the other, who, terrified at the state to which he soon saw his brother reduced, divided the greater portion of the money I had left with him among the men, and suffered the shattered remnant of the regiment to disperse. He then placed his brother in a litter and returned to Paris, seeking his father's house immediately, but finding nothing but sorrow there.
CHAPTER VII.
The distance was long, but our horses were good; we were in the month of August, when days are long, and we accomplished the journey from Noyon to Paris in one day. We entered the capital just as the shades of twilight were beginning to fall, and I paused for a moment to consider whither I should first direct my steps. I had resolved, however, not to go to the prince dauphin, as I knew that, in case of my rivalry with De Blaye ending in our settling the dispute with the sword, D'Auvergne would insist on accompanying me to the field, and I could not endure the thought of seeing the hope and strength of that noble house run the risk of such an encounter for my sake. My hesitation, therefore, only was, whether I should first seek the admiral, to inform him of the fatal result of Genlis's expedition, or go at once to good Martin Vern, to hear news of my poor Louise. Love had wellnigh triumphed; but I did resist; and, turning my rein towards the Rue de Bethisy, where I had been informed the admiral resided, I found his abode, which was in a handsome inn. There, however, I learned that he was himself at the court; and, having satisfied myself by doing my duty, I turned my horse's head towards the dwelling of the merchant.