“No, I do not.  Pardieu! do you see anything to jest about, Du Bouchage?”

“Could any one have done otherwise?” said Aurilly.

“Hold your tongue, Aurilly, or ask the shade of St. Aignan what could have been done.”

Aurilly hung his head.

“Ah! you do not know the history of St. Aignan.  I will tell it to you.  Imagine, then, that when the battle was declared to be lost, he assembled 500 horse, and, instead of flying like the rest, came to me and said.  ‘We must attack them, monseigneur.’  ‘What! attack?’ said I; ‘they are 100 to one.’  ‘Were they 1,000 to one, I would attack them,’ replied he, with a hideous grimace.  ‘Attack if you please,’ said I; ’I do not.’  ‘Give me your horse, and take mine,’ said he:  ’mine is fresh—­yours is not; and as I do not mean to fly, any horse is good for me.’  And then he took my white horse and gave me his black one, saying, ‘Prince, that horse will go twenty leagues in four hours if you like.’  Then, turning to his men, he cried, ’Come, gentlemen, follow me—­all those who will not turn their backs;’ and he rode toward the enemy with a second grimace, more frightful than the first.  He thought he should have met men, but he met water instead, and St. Aignan and his paladins were lost.  Had he listened to me, instead of performing that act of useless foolhardiness, we should have had him at this table, and he would not have been making, as he probably now is, a grimace still uglier than the first.”

A thrill of horror ran through the assembly.

“This wretch has no heart,” thought Henri.  “Oh! why does his misfortune and his birth protect him from the words I long to say to him?”

“Gentlemen,” said Aurilly, in a low voice—­for he felt the effect these words had produced—­“you see how monseigneur is affected; do not heed what he says, for since his misfortune I think he has really moments of delirium.”

“And so,” continued the duke, emptying his glass, “that is how St. Aignan is dead and I alive.  However, in dying he did me a last service, for it was believed, as he rode my horse, that it was me, and this belief spread not only among the French, but among the Flemings, who consequently ceased their pursuit; but reassure yourselves, gentlemen, we shall have our revenge, and I am mentally organizing the most formidable army that ever existed.”

“Meanwhile, monseigneur,” said Henri, “will your highness take the command of my men?  It is not fit that I should continue to do so when you are here.”

“So be it; and, first, I order every one to sup, particularly you, Du Bouchage—­you have eaten nothing.”

“Monseigneur, I am not hungry.”

“In that case return to visit the posts.  Tell the chiefs that I live, but beg them not to rejoice too openly until we gain a better citadel, or rejoin the army of our invincible Joyeuse, for I confess I do not wish to be taken now, after having escaped from fire and water.”