CHAPTER XVII.
THE MARCH.
The army of Lavalette covered all the roads that led towards Lorraine, and the aspect of the column to which our Scottish cuirassiers were attached was brilliant and imposing as it poured through the pastoral province of Champagne, with corslets and cabossets gleaming in the sun, and all their bright points glittering, their plumes and banners waving among the brigades of pikemen and musketeers, dragoons, artillery, baggage, and trains of pontooneers and petardiers.
After traversing a spacious plain we crossed the Marne at Meaux, which made a march of thirty-two miles. This was severe enough for heavily-armed cavalry, so we halted all next day and heard Father Gilbert Blackhall, a Scottish Jesuit, preach in the cathedral of St. Stephen. Continuing our march we passed Colomiers (which was soon after to be made a peerage for Henry of Orleans, Duke of Longoville) and La Ferte sous Jouarre, which lies in a narrow valley twelve miles eastward of it. We crossed the river by an old wooden bridge, and our captain, the Marquis de Gordon, took up his quarters in the ancient castle, which had been burned by the Huguenots in 1562, in those days when religion and rapine, slaughter and conversion went hand in hand; and ere long our trumpets made the old ruined streets of Sezanne—which was still half in ashes, just as the Huguenots had left it in the days of Charles IX.—resound as they blew the cavalquet in the market-place. The town is prettily situated between two small rivers, and having a good market for corn, wine, and wood, formed a convenient halting-place, and here we remained for three days by the advice of our Marechal de Logis.
We carried little baggage. Our horses were well inured to fatigue, and had been kept constantly in condition by drilling, marching, and galloping at full speed by squadrons. On these occasions rider and horse were always fully armed and accoutred; thus all our movements became characterized by unusual spirit and velocity.
I thought frequently of the Countess, from whom I was now completely separated; but being beyond the sphere and fascination of her presence, my regret was not very poignant. Then the softer and gentle image of Nicola would come before me.
'Pshaw!' thought I; 'a little intriguing waiting-maid—absurd!'
On the march towards Sezanne we passed hundreds of French stragglers, who had sunk under fatigue and lay by the wayside; but never a Scottish musketeer of Ramsay, Hepburn, or Leely left his colours, though their regiments composed half our force of infantry; but our Scots have naturally the gift of enduring fatigue, and the habit of marching—for it is a habit which other soldiers have generally to acquire.
'Well,' said the Viscount Dundrennan, shrugging his shoulders, as we received our billets on the bourgeoisie; 'I suppose, M. le Maire, you have neither a theatre or other place of entertainment here?'
'At this distance from Paris, M. le Gend'arme, I should think not! but,' he added, with a twinkle in his eye—for this paunchy magistrate and wine-merchant was an old Huguenot—'there is a pretty convent of Ursulines on the height yonder.'