'——— is so much feared abroad,
That with his name the mothers still their babes,'
has now a fair chance of ending his life under the same trees which saw his abduction of the Countess of Lutzelstein.'
'And when do we march?'
'To-night.'
'Excellent!'
'Our cuirassiers lead the way; the dragoons of Brissac, under the Marquis de Toneins, who has just joined from Paris, are to follow.'
'Bravo!' I exclaimed, as a fiery joy swelled up in my heart.
'At daybreak, we will be upon them; and then let the Austrian and Lorrainer look well to sword and harness, for the Garde du Corps Ecossais never ride forth on a bootless errand!'
After supping with Home, Dundrennan, and a few others, on an omelette, with pickled herrings and saur-kraut, dressed with hog's-lard, a horrible repast, prepared by my German landlady, and washed down by a few bottles of Rhenish wine, we marched on our expedition, leaving Zaberne about midnight.
De Brissac's dragoons—still so called because they had been raised by the marechal of that name in 1600—with our troop of guardsmen, made up about nine hundred swords. The former were led by the Marquis de Toneins, formerly camp-master of the regiment de Normandie, who had succeeded the Duc de Bellegarde, slain before Phalsbourg; and the Marquis of Gordon commanded the whole. We left the town at an easy pace, in light marching order, i.e., unencumbered by forage, oats, or valises, but otherwise fully accoutred with all our arms.