'Alas, no! Marquis—neither in France nor at home in the dear land I never more may see, have I one to weep for me.'
'Tudieu! that's odd.'
'None,' I added sadly, 'except—'
'Ah! there is an exception!'
I sighed—but I thought only of the Countess for an instant—and then of the golden-haired Nicola.
'Strange!' I muttered, 'that even in this hour of perplexity and anxiety that girl's face comes before me!'
My resolutions were soon formed. At sunset I crept as close as I dared to the bastion, and with a telescope examined it from every point; but the bourgeoisie who manned it soon discovered me; a salute was fired in honour of my appearance; the bullets of their arquebuses fell thick around me in a shower as I crept back, and escaped to mature my plans and perhaps to—pray.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE BASTION DE LOUISE.
Dundrennan, Sir Quentin Home, the Chevalier Livingstone, and other gallant gentlemen of the troop were anxious to share with me the honour of this perilous enterprise; but, aware of the danger—the almost certain death—to be incurred, I peremptorily declined all assistance, and resolved to achieve the deed alone, or pay the penalty of my own folly.