"He will soon be here," was his reply. "We came by different roads."
In his own mind he was considering what a fine thing it would be for him if he could attach himself to Gabriel. In the first place, his means of subsistence in these hard times would be assured; then he knew that his master, the constable, at present Philibert Emmanuel's prisoner, was suffering less, possibly, from the disgrace of his defeat and captivity than from the thought that his detested rival, the Duc de Guise, would soon be omnipotent at court, and would exercise unbounded influence over the king's mind. To dog the steps of a friend of Guise, then, would be to establish himself at the very fountain-head of information, which he could sell at a high price to the constable. Last of all, was not Gabriel personally an enemy of the Montmorencys, and the principal obstacle in the way of the marriage of Duc François with Madame de Castro?
Arnauld remembered all this, but could not avoid the reflection at the same time that the return of the true Martin-Guerre to his master's side might well upset all his fine plans. In order to avoid being convicted of imposture, he lay in wait for Gabriel's coming, hoping to be able to keep the credulous Martin-Guerre out of the way, or to get rid of him altogether. Imagine his delight, then, when Gabriel came up to him alone, and at once recognized him as his squire. Arnauld had spoken the truth without knowing it. After that he left everything to chance, and relying upon his patron the devil having led poor Martin into the toils of the Spaniards, he boldly assumed the rôle of the absentee, in which he succeeded admirably, as we have seen.
Meanwhile the conference between Gabriel and Vaulpergues came to an end; and when the three detachments were under arms, and ready to start on their respective routes, Arnauld insisted on accompanying Gabriel on the road which led by the Walloon camp. It was the road which the real Martin-Guerre was to have taken; and if they should happen to meet him, Arnauld wanted to be on the spot, so that he might make him disappear, or disappear himself, as need required.
But they passed the camp without seeing anything of Martin; and the thought of that trifling danger was soon lost sight of in the more serious peril which awaited him, as well as Gabriel and the little band of whom they made part, before the closely invested walls of St. Quentin.
Within the town the anxiety was no less acute, as may well be imagined; for the salvation or destruction of all depended almost entirely on the bold coup-de-main to be undertaken by Gabriel and Vaulpergues. So at two o'clock in the morning the admiral in person made the round of the points agreed upon between himself and Gabriel, enjoining upon the picked men, who were posted as sentinels at these important spots, the most watchful attention. Then he mounted to the belfry tower, whence he could overlook the whole town and all the neighborhood; and there, dumb and motionless, scarcely breathing, he listened in the silence, and looked out upon the night. But he heard only the deadened, far-off sound of the Spanish miners and the French counterminers; he saw naught but the tents of the enemy, and, farther away, the gloomy forest of Origny standing darkly out in the black night.
Unable to overcome his restlessness, the admiral determined to go to the spot where the fate of St. Quentin was to be decided. He came down from the tower, and on horseback, attended by several officers, rode to the Boulevard de la Reine, and up to one of the posterns at which Vaulpergues might be expected, and waited, standing on an angle of the ramparts.
Just as three o'clock was striking from La Collégiale, the hoot of an owl was heard from the heart of the marshes of the Somme.
"God be praised! there they are!" cried the admiral.
Monsieur du Breuil, at a sign from Coligny, using his hands as a speaking-trumpet, imitated distinctly the cry of the osprey.