When all arrangements were complete and all the officers had received their instructions at the hastily called field council, the brothers returned up the hill.
The stars were now beginning to fade in the light of a pallid dawn, the woods were hushed, the fields serene; the bodies of men moving about to take up their positions were indistinct black masses in the obscurity.
Louis felt his blood beat strongly; he was about to strike the first blow in the cause to which his House was now pledged; tremendous results, moral and material, hung on the issue of to-morrow's battle, and there was almost everything against him.
When he went to change into his complete armour he fell on his knees on the bare floor of the convent room and prayed—
"God, as we fight not for our own profit nor glory but for thy poor people, forgive us all our loves and our hates, our lusts and all our mistreadings, and let those who fall to-morrow die in thy mercy."
When he had armed he dismissed his pages and went down to where Adolphus already waited in the convent garden.
The young Count wore a suit of black mail with a little scarlet plume like a burst of flame in his casque, and across his heart a scarf of that orange colour, so bright and deep, that it was frequently mistaken for the scarlet sash of the Spanish officers.
Louis' harness was of uncoloured steel; he too wore the orange scarf, the tasselled ends of which fell to his thigh.
Among the fragrant flower-beds two grooms held the two black horses of the brothers.
The light had now strengthened so that they could distinguish the pikemen from the musketeers on the plain below, and discern the sutlers hastening to the rear with the baggage waggons.