"Monsieur le Comte de Bourgneuf, bring in your prisoner."
At this unpleasant conjunction of names I felt my heart beat quick, and then I saw the colonel of the Regiment de Bretagne, the stern-looking bearer of the flag of truce, beckoning me follow him.
I did so, and in another moment found myself in the presence of the famous Maréchal Duc de Broglie—the father of Jacqueline!
CHAPTER VII.
THE DUC DE BROGLIE.
There was one other present whom I could very well have spared—the Count de Bourgneuf—the stern young colonel, who eyed me steadily with a glance of a very mingled cast—at least, I thought so, for he was the husband of Jacqueline de Broglie.
The Duke, her father, a venerable and stately soldier, who wore the uniform of a maréchal of France, but of a fashion somewhat old, and who had his hair profusely powdered, received me with a polite salute.
The room in which we met was a vaulted chamber of the old castle. In a corner thereof stood a cornette, a standard peculiar to the French Light Cavalry, and from its pole there still hung the white silk scarf which was usually tied to these cornettes when the dragoons went into action, to render them conspicuous, so that they might be rallied round it; and this scarf had doubtless been there since the duke's own regiment had fled at a gallop from Minden. In a corner were embroidered the initials "J. de B." Had Jacqueline's fair fingers worked that scarf and standard? In another corner stood a pair of kettledrums and a few muskets.
A table, whereon lay some maps of Germany by Herman Moll, several French newspapers—particularly the Mercure—the Gazette de Bruxelles; bundles of dispatches and writing materials stood near the arched Gothic fireplace. A few antique chairs were round it, and on these were seated two or three field-officers of the Regiment de Bretagne, Monjoy, the engineer, and the Comte de Bourgneuf, all in full uniform, powdered and aiguiletted, with their swords, sashes, and orders on.
All these details I saw at a glance, and again my eyes rested on the benign face of the old Duc de Broglie, in whom, however, I failed to trace any resemblance to his daughter.