The moment he saw the face of the prince, Argence sprang from his horse and attempted to aid Condé in rising; but then, seeing the state of his leg, he bore rather than assisted him to the foot of a small hawthorn-tree, and placed his back against the bank that supported it.
This was nearer to me than before, and the next instant two or three other gentlemen came up, and dismounting beside the captive prince, were talking to him in a quiet tone, when Montesquieu, whom I had seen several times before, and knew for his brutality, rode slowly up, and looked down upon me as I lay. My visor being down, he could not see whether I was dead or alive; and I remained quite still, though I held tight the pistol which I had drawn from my saddle-bow, determined not to surrender to him, but to shoot him with my left hand if he molested me. I believe he was looking for some unarmed point to stab me with his sword, in order to ascertain whether I was living or dead; but, not finding any, he had taken his pistol in his hand, as if to shoot me, in order to make all sure.
At that very instant, however, one of the others rode up from the hawthorn-tree, saying, "They have taken the Prince de Condé, there, Montesquieu."
"Taken!" exclaimed the brute, in a furious tone. "Kill him! kill him!--Mortbleu!" and, dashing forward, he levelled his pistol at the head of the unfortunate prince, and fired. Condé's head first fell back up against the bank, and then, rolling over with a convulsive motion, he fell dead at the feet of Argence, who turned angrily upon Montesquieu, and seemed to reproach him with what he had done.
After that I saw no more of them, for a company of horse came sweeping along between me and the spot at a somewhat slow pace, though Martigue was at their head. I knew his character well; though fierce, bold, and courageous as a lion, he was noble and generous-minded too; and as he passed within about ten paces of me, I called loudly upon his name. He did not hear me himself, but a young officer who was behind exclaimed, looking round, "Who calls Monsieur de Martigue?"
"It is I," I cried, lifting up my left hand, "I, a gentleman and a knight, wish to speak with him."
The young officer called his commander's attention, who turned his horse and rode up to me. "Who are you, and what do you want?" he said, looking down upon me without dismounting.
"I am De Cerons," I replied; "and, of all men in the army, wish to surrender to you;" and at the same time I raised my visor.
"Ah, you young tiger!" he cried, "have I got you. If I did right, I believe I should drop a lance into you. But, however, I suppose that must not be, and so I will give you some supper instead; for you have lost the day, young man, as I suppose you know."
"But too well," I replied, sadly; and Martigue, turning to some of those who followed, said, "There, help him up, and take care of him. Look to his wounds, too; for it is a pity that any one who has gone through a day like this should die at the end of it."