At a signal from their officer, the dragoons unslung their carbines, and held them at the cock when the colonel called out, "Which of you, messieurs, is the Duc d'Enghien?"
"If you come to arrest him," replied De Marsanne, "you ought to have his description in your warrant."
"Is the descendant of a Condé ashamed to own his name?" asked the colonel, with a sneer. "But we'll make short work of it, sirs; I arrest you all. My orders are peremptory, messieurs. If you resist, or attempt to escape—" and he made a significant sign with his hand to finish. The "Duc"—for I need no longer call him "De Marsanne"—never spoke a word, but with folded arms calmly walked forward, followed by his little household. As we descended the stairs, we found ourselves in the midst of about thirty dismounted dragoons, all on the alert, and prepared for any resistance. The remainder of the squadron were on horseback without. With a file of soldiers on either hand we marched for about a quarter of a mile across the fields to a small mill, where a general officer and his staff seemed awaiting our arrival. Here, too, a picket of gens-d'armes was stationed; a character of force significant enough of the meaning of the enterprise. We were hurriedly marched into the court of the mill, the owner of which stood between two soldiers, trembling from head to foot with terror.
"Which is the Duc D'Enghien?" asked the colonel of the miller.
"That is he with the scarlet vest," and the prince nodded an assent.
"Your age, monsieur?" asked the colonel of the prince.
"Thirty-two—that is, I should have been so much in August, were it not for this visit," said he, smiling.
The colonel wrote on rapidly for a few minutes, and then showed the paper to the general, who briefly said, "Yes, yes; this does not concern you nor me."
"I wish to ask, sir," said the prince, addressing the general, "do you make this arrest with the consent of the authorities of this country, or do you do so in defiance of them?"
"You must reserve questions like that for the court who will judge you, Monsieur de Condé," said the officer, roughly. "If you wish for any articles of dress from your quarters, you had better think of them. My orders are to convey you to Strassburg. Is there any thing so singular in the fact, sir, that you should look so much astonished?"