"It is not my wish simply, my friend," the admiral replied; "it is my duty; and you know that Gaspard de Coligny never proves recreant to his duty."
"What good fortune!" said Gabriel; "and what do I not owe you for it, Monsieur l'Amiral? But are you willing to make my obligation still greater? Say nothing to any one, I beseech you, not even to Monsieur le Connétable, in fact, to any one rather than to him, of what I have been able to do to assist you in your glorious task. Let the king alone know it. His Majesty will see from that I was influenced by no thirst for glory or for reputation, but only by my wish to keep a promise I made to him; and it lies in his power to give me, if he chooses, a reward a thousand times more precious in my sight than all the honors and dignities of his realm. Yes, Monsieur l'Amiral, let this reward but be bestowed upon me, and Henri's debt to me, if debt there be, will be paid a hundred times over."
"It should be a magnificent recompense, then," rejoined the admiral. "God grant that the king's gratitude may not disappoint you! However, I will do as you wish, Gabriel; and although it costs me a pang to keep silent as to your deserts, since you ask me, I will say nothing."
"Ah!" cried Gabriel, "what a long and weary time it has been since I have felt such peace as reigns in my heart at this moment! How pleasant it is to be able to hope and believe, even though it be but a little, in the future! Now I will go upon the walls and fight with a light heart, and it seems as if I should be unconquerable. Can it be that iron or lead will dare to wound a man in whose heart hope is born?"
"Do not rely too much upon that, my friend, I pray you!" said Coligny, smiling. "For I can already say to you without hesitation that you are deceived by your conviction of victory. The town is almost entirely open on all sides; a few cannon-balls will soon level the last fragments of her walls and her towers. More than that, we have scarcely one able-bodied man left; and the troops who have so gallantly supplied the place of fortifications hitherto are now in their turn lacking. The next assault will make the enemy masters of the place; and we must cherish no delusions in that direction."
"But may it not be that Monsieur de Guise will send us reinforcements from Paris?" asked Gabriel.
"Monsieur de Guise," Gaspard answered, "will not expose his precious forces for the sake of a town three quarters taken; and he will be quite right. Let him keep his men in the heart of France, for there they are most needed. St. Quentin is sacrificed. The expiatory victim has struggled long enough, thank God! and it only remains for her to fall nobly; and in that we will try still to help her, will we not, Gabriel? We must make the triumph of the Spaniard before St. Quentin cost him more than a defeat. We will fight no longer for our own salvation, but for the sake of fighting."
"Yes, yes, for pleasure, for sport!" said Gabriel, joyfully,—"a hero's pleasure, Monsieur l'Amiral, and sport worthy of you! Well, then, so be it! let us amuse ourselves by holding the town two or three or four days more, if we can. Let us hold Philip II., Philibert Emmanuel, Spain, England, and Flanders all in check before a few pieces of crumbling stone. It will be a little more time gained for Monsieur de Guise, and an entertaining spectacle for us. What do you say?"
"I say, my friend, that your pleasantry is sublime, and that there is glory hidden in your jokes."
The event justified the hope of Gabriel and Coligny. In fact, Philip II. and his general, Philibert Emmanuel, being furiously indignant at being delayed so long before one town, and at having already made ten fruitless assaults, determined not to hazard an eleventh without being assured of success. As they had done before, they allowed three days to pass without an assault, and made use of their batteries instead of their soldiers, since it had been abundantly proved that in that heroic town the walls were not so enduring and steadfast as the hearts of its defenders. The admiral and Vicomte d'Exmès spent the three days in having the damage inflicted by the batteries and mines repaired as fast as possible by their workmen; but unfortunately arms were wanting. On the 26th of August, at noon, not a single section of the walls remained standing. The houses were left without protection, as in an open town, and the soldiers were so few that they could not even form a single line at the principal posts.