"No; for the Duke of Marlborough, who lacks the skill of his great namesake, on hearing that certain forces were marching against him, under Monseigneur le Duc d'Aiguillon, Governor of Brittany, withdrew his troops from Dol and Paramé, and retreating with all speed to the bay of Cancalle, embarked his whole forces there on the 12th of this month, and sailed for England."
"Are all gone?" I inquired, with irrepressible agitation.
"All—save the dead and you."
"And I am left here!" I exclaimed, overcome with consternation.
"With us," replied the lady with a pouting smile.
"True, mademoiselle; my exclamation is alike ungrateful and ungallant; what matter is one poor trooper more or less."
"However, monsieur may soon see his friends again," continued Mademoiselle de Broglie, "for they still menace our poor province of Brittany. So stormy has been the weather, that it was not until the 21st of this month the fleet got clear of the coast of France. On the 25th it was visible off Hâvre de Grace, which M. Marlborough bravely enough reconnoitred in an open cutter; but Heaven favoured us with another tempest, and the British were blown out to sea. On the 27th——"
"Yesterday!"
"Only yesterday, as the Chevalier de Boisguiller informed me this morning, they came to anchor within two miles of Cherbourg, and hoisted out some flat-bottomed boats with the English guards to attack the forts of Querqueville and L'Hommet; but again kind Heaven——"
"With St. Malo and St. Suliac," interposed the soubrette.