My heart danced with joy as he gave me his hand to kiss, and held up the standard in view of his attendants, whose applause again burst forth with a rapture truly French.
'Tonnerre de Ciel!' said Louis, glancing again at the despatch; 'our loss in men is considerable.'
'Heed it not, sire,' replied the gay Duke de Bouillon; 'the boys born this week in our good and virtuous city of Paris will replace the loss in battle.'
'And so M. le Chevalier Hepburn is in full march to attack Count Gallas?'
'Yes, sire.'
'Mohammed condescended to go to the mountain; so, as M. le Comte will not come to meet the troops of France, we must march them to fight M. le Comte. Bon!' exclaimed Louis, rubbing his hands.
He was about to address me again, as I stood the cynosure of a thousand eyes, when suddenly a carriage, escorted by twelve mounted musketeers, wheeled up the ancient avenue of elms; and Louis muttered, while nervously folding the despatch,—
'Here comes our devil of a Cardinal! Ah—your Eminence is welcome—we have just got despatches——'
'From the Duke de Rohan and the Chevalier Hepburn,' replied the Cardinal, coldly.
'How know you that?' asked the King, with astonishment.