Passing down the little avenue which led to the front door, brilliant lights were visible in the lower rooms; loud and noisy voices were heard. Charlie ordered his men to look to their cartridges. As for the bayonets, they were never unfixed now; but a loud, hoarse German chorus that rang out upon the night showed that the place was already in possession of friends, and on entering the dining-room of the chateau, a curious scene presented itself.
It was a handsome apartment, with an elaborately polished floor, and modern furniture in the fashion of the time of Louis XIV. Wax candles in great profusion were burning on the elaborately inlaid table, on which were spread in great confusion dishes, plates, glasses, and bottles with viands and fruit of every kind. M. de Caillé, as he proved to be, a fine-looking old French gentleman, with hair and moustache white as the thistle-down, was there tied hand and foot with a rope, the end of which was secured to the knob of a shutter, compelling him to look helplessly on at the desolation of his dwelling, into which a dozen or so of stragglers from some Bavarian regiment, as they appeared to be, as their helmets were crested with black bearskin and not spikes, had broken, and were now making merry, eating, drinking, singing, and roughly pulling about Mademoiselle de Caillé, her terrified bonne, and other female servants; and it was only too evident that but for the timely arrival of Charlie and his picket, something very disastrous must have ensued, as these fellows were fast maddening themselves by drinking all kinds of wines and spirits in succession.
On Charlie's entrance, sword in hand, such is the influence of the epaulette, that they all started to their feet; their noise died away instantly, and every man raised his right hand to the peak of his helmet. Believing they were utterly lost now on the appearance of this fresh arrival, the young lady uttered a cry of despair, and shrank to the side of her father, who was unable to put forth even a hand to shield her, and who eyed Charlie Pierrepont with a half-piteous, half-defiant expression.
He was considerably reassured, however, when he heard the latter announce the duty which brought him there, and ordered the Bavarians, on pain of being treated as mutineers or deserters, at once to return to their quarters. They hurried to obey with more alacrity than goodwill, one alone venturing to explain that they had been fighting all day without food or drink, and were in an enemy's country. By a wave of his sword, Charlie cut him short, and ere he had shot it into the sheath, the chateau was empty of all but his own men, who crowded into the kitchen, and there certainly made free with all that the cook's pantry contained.
Charlie now apologized to M. de Caillé for the conduct of the Bavarians, and hastened to cut the cord that bound him. He was so weak and faint from all he had undergone, that he could only stagger into an arm-chair, when his daughter caressed him and chafed his hands, and while the bonne poured out some wine for him and Charlie, to whom she curtseyed, and tendered her thanks again and again.
After a time all became more composed, and the conversation naturally ran on the events of the day, and the dreadful din of cannon and musketry which had been ringing for miles around the little chateau; and somehow, while chatting over their wine, and Charlie received again and again the heartfelt thanks of the old Frenchman, the latter, by some word or exclamation that escaped him, discovered the nationality of the former.
'Thank God, monsieur is an Englishman!' he exclaimed.
'Yes,' said Charlie, with one of his pleasant smiles.
'And yet you fight for those horrible barbarians, the Prussians?' exclaimed the young lady.
'I am a soldier of fortune, my dear child,' said Charlie, laughing, for the girl was only in her fifteenth year, apparently, and he could not but remember that Ernestine was one of those 'horrible barbarians.'