The sword trembled in my hand, and my heart sank on recognising Raoul.

How could I fight against the staunch comrade who had always been dearer to me than a brother? It was impossible. For the sake of our friendship I must endeavour to avert a struggle.

The Frondeurs, I gladly believe, would have listened to reason but for Peleton and Baron Maubranne, who, with raised swords, rushed at me, yelling "Down with the _Mazarin_!"

In self-defence I was compelled to parry their blows, and Peleton, lunging rather wildly, received the point of my sword in his chest. At this the cavaliers, headed by Maubranne, charged us in a body, but my troopers withstood the shock manfully, and the baron rolled to the ground.

At the first clash of swords all thoughts of peace took wing; the intoxication of the fight got into our blood, and made us reckless.

Spurring into the throng, I called on my men, who attacked with such zest that the cavaliers began to give way.

Henri, however, quickly rallied them; the fight was renewed with increased fury, and the air was filled with the clatter of steel and the shouts of the combatants.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The air was filled with the clatter of steel."]

The old sergeant had not praised his men without cause. They were seasoned soldiers, hard and tough as iron, and without the least sense of fear. Fighting was their trade, and they were masters of the craft.

As for myself, I could ride, and handle a sword, but this was my first experience of a fight. I forgot the lessons in sword-play my father had taught me, and struck out wildly, hitting right and left. I saw D'Arcy's smiling face go down before me, felt Lautrec's sword pierce my arm, and then came directly in front of Raoul.

As it chanced I was able to stay my hand at the very moment of striking, but Raoul, poor lad, had not the same good fortune, and, just as I lowered my weapon, his sword pa.s.sed through my body. I am an old man now, but I can still see the look of horror on his face, and hear his cry of anguish. I remember smiling at him feebly and trying to speak; then the fading daylight vanished, and with the darkness came unconsciousness.

The next thing I can remember was Raoul asking some one if I should die. Not being able to see him I stretched out my hand, and he, bending over me, spoke my name softly.

"My men?" I whispered faintly.

"They are all living! Do you know who I am?"

"Yes. Raoul."

"If you do not go away, M. Beauchamp, you will kill my patient."

This was said in a voice soft and sweet as a child's, and I concluded the speaker was a doctor. Raoul made some reply, but I could not understand his words, and gradually my sense of hearing failed altogether. For weeks I lay hovering between life and death, and when at length I was able to look about me and realise something of what went on, I was painfully weak and helpless.

Thrice every day there came into my room a tall, grave, white-bearded man, who sometimes smiled kindly, but more often shook his head in a sorrowful manner. And always, throughout the day and night, there sat by my bedside a grief-stricken youth who tended me with the utmost care. This youth, so sad and melancholy, was Raoul, but Raoul so altered as to be scarcely recognisable. For hours he would sit motionless as a statue, then, rising gently, he would give me the medicine according to the doctor's orders, or smooth the tumbled pillow which I was helpless to re-arrange for myself.

One morning, waking after a long sleep, I felt considerably better. My comrade sat as usual beside the bed, but, wearied by the night watch, his head had sunk on his breast, and he had fallen asleep. I half turned to look at him more closely, but at the first movement he started up wide awake.

"Raoul!" I whispered.

"Albert!"

"It is all right, old friend; I shall get on now."

Grasping my hand, which lay outside the coverlet, he pressed it gently, and, kneeling down, gave thanks to G.o.d for this first step in my recovery.

"Amen to that," said I. "And now, my dear Raoul, tell me the news.

Remember that I am ignorant of everything."

"First let me hear you say that you forgive me."

"Forgive you, old comrade? _Peste!_ there is nothing to forgive. Is it your fault that I am the less skilful hand with the sword?"

"That is nonsense," he replied slowly. "You could have killed me, but you refused to strike."

"Friendship stayed my arm in time."

"But not mine!"

"Then after all I am the more skilful swordsman!"

"I nearly killed you," he said, and his lip quivered.

"But not quite. Let us forget all about it."

From that morning I began to regain strength, and could soon converse with Raoul without fatigue. From him I learned that the safety of the troopers was due to Marie, who, leaving the carriage, and running to the scene of the fight, had called upon the Frondeurs to sheathe their swords.

"Two of your men were wounded, though not seriously," said Raoul; "young D'Arcy received a nasty cut; Maubranne was picked up insensible, and Peleton will not forget you for some time."

"But for him and Maubranne, there need not have been a fight."

"They have a spite against you, and will make mischief if they can."

"Never mind them. What became of the escort?"

"The wounded men were taken to the inn; the others returned to Paris.

Madame Coutance insisted on your being brought to Aunay, and here you have remained ever since."

"Then really," I said, when Raoul gave me this information, "you have all done your best to fulfil Mazarin's orders!"

"It was a mistake. We believed the ladies were to be imprisoned at Reuil, and, besides, it was possible that Madame Coutance had possession of a valuable doc.u.ment."

"You should have searched the Palais Royal for that," I remarked with a laugh.

"You have spoiled our scheme for a time. Your cousin did the Fronde an ill turn when he advised you to go to Paris; you have proved a thorn in our side from the very first day."

I asked after D'Arcy, and found that he had returned with his friends to the capital, where new and startling plots were being hatched.

"Without a doubt we shall crush the Cardinal this time," exclaimed my comrade, whose good spirits revived with my increasing strength. "He will miss his trusty henchman, and there is really no one of importance on his side."

"Then De Retz has not received his red hat?"

"No! Mazarin played him a fine trick over that, and set all Paris laughing for weeks. The little abbe is desperately angry, and intends taking ample vengeance."

"How Marie's aunt must wish she were back in the Rue Crillon!"

"She has vowed not to leave Aunay till you have recovered. The doctor declares you owe your life to her and Marie, who nursed you during the first fortnight. By the way, your doublet was spoiled; so I sent for another; you shall put it on in the morning."

"To go downstairs?'

"If you can persuade the doctor to grant you permission. And now try to sleep, or you will be ill again."