"We will leave it so, then. In the meantime, you may, perhaps, have a little commission to execute for me, or rather for the Queen. That will keep you employed until you finally decide. It may need using your sword. Does your wound trouble you?"
"It will be healed in less than a week."
"Well, go now and rest. You are being lodged here, of course?"
"I have secured a lodging at the Elephant, monsieur."
"Then to-morrow you must come here. I will see to that, for I like to lay hands on a man when I want him." And with this he struck a gong, and the officer who had brought me in appeared.
"Sarlaboux," said the General, "let Monsieur Broussel be conducted safely to his inn, and see that no harm befalls him."
I was about to take my leave when Montluc stopped me.
"A word!— That little story of yours in connection with your wound, monsieur, has interested me. I will give it a place in my commentaries." And he took up his pen as I retired, followed by Sarlaboux.
I may add that, many years after, it was my good fortune to see a copy of the old Marshal's commentaries, which had been made for his brother, Monseigneur the Bishop of Valence. By some strange chance, for he rarely forgot anything, he had omitted my story, nor was there any mention of the secret communication I made to him; and, perhaps, this was due to design. He was a great soldier and a great man, whose life may be summed up in the motto of his house: Deo duce, ferro comite.