"Yes, my friend," François de Lorraine replied,—"yes, I am content with the results so far attained, but I confess I am very anxious as to the future. It was this anxiety which drove me out of my tent to-night to wander about the camp, and come to you for encouragement and advice."
"But what is there new?" asked Gabriel. "I should imagine that the result so far has surpassed all your anticipations, has it not? In four days you have made yourself master of two of the outworks of Calais; besides, the defenders of the city itself and the Old Château cannot hold out more than forty-eight hours longer."
"Very true," said the duke; "but they can hold out that length of time, and that will be quite long enough to foil all our plans, and save themselves."
"Oh, Monseigneur must allow me to express my doubts of that," said Gabriel.
"No, my friend, my long experience does not mislead me," rejoined the Duc de Guise; "except for some unexpected piece of good fortune, or some occurrence beyond human foresight, our undertaking has failed. Believe me when I say this."
"But why?" asked Gabriel, with a smile, which contrasted strangely with the gloomy prognostications of the duke.
"I will tell you in two words, upon the basis of your own plan. Listen carefully to what I say."
"I am all attention," said Gabriel.
"The extraordinarily hazardous experiment into which your youthful enthusiasm seduced my more cautious ambition," continued the duke, "had no possible chance of success except in the isolation and complete surprise of the English garrison. Calais was impregnable, we were agreed, but might be taken by surprise. We reasoned out our insane enterprise along that line, did we not?"
"And up to the present moment," was Gabriel's reply, "the facts have borne us out in our reasoning."