My temples throbbed; there was a wild glow in my heart, and then an emotion of terror, as a bullet struck me fairly in the centre of the breast, above my pouch belt. For an instant I thought it was through me, and breathlessly dropped my reins; then, instinctively, I placed my hand within my coat, and expecting to find it covered with blood, drew forth—what? Aurora's handkerchief. It had saved me from the ball, which pierced my coat, though half spent.
I pressed it to my parched lips in gratitude; and perfume was lingering about it still. I had scarcely replaced it and recovered my equanimity, when I heard the clear, firm voice of Captain Lindsay, as he rode to the front, with young Keith by his side, carrying the standard advanced.
"Cavalry are before us, and we must clear the way. March—trot! keep your horses well in hand—press on by leg and spur!"
We advanced, with drawn swords, the troop riding on, boot to boot, and thigh to thigh—moving like a living wall. Then rapidly followed the words—
"Gallop—charge!" mingling with the sharp blast of the trumpet, and totally ignorant of what was amid the darkness in our front, whether a column of cavalry, a yawning chasm, or a stone rampart, we rushed blindly and furiously on with a loud and ringing cheer.
We charged with tremendous force, and in the heat, hurry, and confusion of such a moment, performed at racing speed, I sat in my saddle and guided my horse with a combined coolness and steadiness that certainly resulted from mere instinct or force of habit, rather than reason. I felt as in a dream, till suddenly, out of the darkness in front, there came before me a line of horses' heads, with another line of human faces, and uplifted swords above them. Then there was a wild crash, as if the earth had opened, when horse and man went tumbling under us, as we swept over the enemy, cutting and treading them down.
"Tuè! Tuè!" cried they; "St. Malo for Brittany!" But their provincial patron availed them not.
They proved to be a mere handful of hussars, led by the Chevalier de Boisguiller, who was nearly killed by the sword of Charters; but escaped by having an iron calotte cap within his fur cap. We lost only three men in this charge; but found nine of the enemy lying dead on the ground next day.
In vain the Chevalier, an officer of the most romantic courage, endeavoured to rally his men.
"En avant, mes camarades—Mes enfans, en avant!" we heard him shout, while brandishing his sabre; "Voilà—voilà, c'est la voye à l'honneur, à la gloire, à la victoire! Vive le Roi!"