At this, waving our plumed hats high, we cheered again and swept forward with a rush. From the Faubourg St. Denis came the sounds of musketry, of wild battle shouts, and cries of triumph and despair.

"Forward!" cried Turenne. "Forward!"

Riding with loose reins we spurred hard to the scene of conflict, just in time to see the backs of Condé's rearguard. The gallant fellows had fought stubbornly, contesting every foot of ground, and sacrificing themselves in order to delay our advance. Now, however, they were in retreat, and Turenne, leaving his victorious infantry to re-form, collected his horsemen and pressed on in pursuit.

Among the foremost rode my old comrade, and my heart beat fast at sight of him. His head was bare, his long fair curls fell about his shoulders, his cheeks were flushed, his eyes fiercely bright. I had never seen him in such a state of intense excitement. As I joined him he greeted me with a forced smile, but there was no time for speech. Side by side we dashed through the streets into the Faubourg St. Martin. Here several squadrons of Condé's cavalry barred our way, but Raoul halted not.

"For the King!" he cried, waving his sword. "For the King!" as we leaped at the horsemen, while our comrades, answering with a lusty shout, galloped madly behind us.

Crash! We were in the midst of the throng, cutting, thrusting, parrying, pressing the rebels back slowly. They fought well, as became Frenchmen, but we were too many, and at last they broke.

"Forward!" cried Raoul, who was still in front, but Turenne called us back.

"Softly, softly," exclaimed our leader; "a few hundred horsemen cannot defeat an army in position. We must go slowly for a while. The enemy are entrenched behind barricades in the Faubourg St. Antoine."

Raoul looked at me meaningly, and I became unnerved by the odd coincidence. Was it chance or fate?

"Together till the end," he whispered. "Do not grieve for me, dear friend, it is written in the stars, and I am content."