"You are both more than acquitted already, my lord," I replied. "The thanks which you have been pleased to give me are sufficient recompense; and let it be remembered always, that this young gentleman neither surrendered nor demanded quarter; that what was done was my doing; and perhaps the time may come, on some future day, when the little kindness I showed may be returned by some other. Will you allow me," I added, in order to change the subject, "To inquire whether any of the relations of Mademoiselle de Blancford are with your company above?"
"No," replied the duke. "The truth is, Monsieur de Cerons, that the Baron de Blancford has been somewhat enraged by a letter from the Prince de Condé to the Duke of Anjou respecting him, and by one which, I understand, you wrote to him yourself. I therefore undertook the task of meeting you here, to prevent any unpleasant collision. I wished his two sons to have accompanied me; but he replied, that if he did not go himself, none of his family should go. But that I have full authority to receive the young lady, you may believe."
"I doubt it not in the least, my lord," I replied; "but I was in hopes that the two boys were there, who have been brought up beside me from their infancy, but whom I have not seen for a long time. However, Mademoiselle de Blancford shall be delivered into your hands immediately, and I pray you to do your best to induce her father to look differently upon my letter, and to believe that, when I gave you the little alèrte the other night, my only view was to rescue him, if, as I suspected, he was detained as a prisoner."
"What, then, it was you," said the duke, "Who roused us in such a manner, and who carried off one of the cornets. Take care how you come in the way of Martigues, Monsieur de Cerons, for he has not forgotten the loss of that cornet."
"I will treat it with all honour and distinction, my lord," I replied, smiling: "I will carry it with me into the very next field where I am likely to meet your army, and there Monsieur de Martigues may take it if he have the will and the power."
"I shall tell him so, I shall tell him so," replied the duke. "We shall have the days of chivalry revived again. But we must waste no more daylight, Monsieur de Cerons, for we shall but have light enough to get back to the camp."
At this hint I immediately went back, and telling Louise who it was that had come to meet her, I dismounted from my horse, and led her forward by the bridle-rein. Good old La Tour and the rest followed at a little distance, giving us an opportunity of passing those few last moments alone. We said nothing, however, as we went on. Her hand rested for a moment in mine; our eyes looked long and speakingly into each other's; and thus we went on till we approached the Duc de Montpensier, who, dismounting also, took a step forward to meet his fair charge. He asked her some courteous question of no great import as he approached, but Louise could not answer; her voice was choked, her eyes were full of tears. The duke looked to me as if for an explanation. I had none to give, and felt that the best way was to withdraw as soon as possible.
"Louise," I said, approaching as close as I could, and speaking in a low voice, "Louise, my beloved, adieu! God be with you, and protect you, and give you courage, and give you strength."
Louise bent down over her jennet, let her arm drop over mine, and her weeping eyes fell upon my shoulder. After a moment she made an effort and raised her head, saying, "Adieu, Henry, adieu!"
As she did so our lips met, and, turning hastily away, I quitted a scene that was becoming too much for me in every respect. Ere I had taken ten steps, however, some one touched me on the arm. It was the young Prince de la Roche,[[2]] the Duke of Montpensier's son, who held out his hand to me, and grasped mine, saying, "We shall meet again, Monsieur de Cerons, we shall meet again."