“He does not look very terrible, does he, this curly-haired young fellow, mademoiselles; but he is one of those terrible horse which have broken the cavalry of the Maison du Roi today, and scattered the chivalry of France.  As to himself, he is a Rustium, a Bobadil, if he has, as I doubt not, kept up his practice—­” and he looked at Rupert, who nodded smilingly; for he had indeed, during the four years he had been in Flanders, not only practised assiduously in the regimental fencing salles, but had attended all the schools kept by the best Spanish, Italian, and German teachers, keeping himself in practice, and acquiring a fresh pass here, an ingenious defence there, and ever improving—­“The first swordsman in France would run a chance against this good-tempered-looking lad with his blue eyes.”

The French girls opened their eyes in astonishment, but they were not quite sure whether the marquis was not making fun of them.

“Parbleu!” the two officers exclaimed.  “You are not in earnest surely, marquis?”

“I am, indeed, gentlemen; and I can claim some share of the merit, for I taught him myself; and before he was sixteen he was a better swordsman than I was; and as he loved the art, he will have gone on improving, and must be miraculous.

“By the way,” he said, suddenly, “there was a story went through Flanders near four years back of the best swordsman in the German army being killed by a mere boy in an English regiment, and I said then, I think that this must be my pupil.  Was it so?”

“It was,” Rupert said.  “It was a painful affair; but I was forced into it.”

“Make no excuse, I beg,” the marquis said, laughing.

“Now, young ladies, let us to supper; but beware of this prisoner of war, for if he is only half as formidable with his eyes as with his wrist, it is all up with your poor hearts.”

Then, with much merriment, the four officers sat down to table, their host and hostess joining for company, and the young ladies acting as attendants.

No one would have guessed that three of the party had formed part of an army which that day had been utterly routed, or that the other was their prisoner; but the temperament of the French enables them to recover speedily from misfortune; and although they had been dull and gloomy enough until Rupert so suddenly fell into their hands, the happy accident of his being known to their colonel, and the pleasure and excitement caused by the meeting, sufficed to put them in high spirits again, especially as their own corps had suffered but slightly in the action, having been in reserve on the left, and never engaged except in a few charges to cover the retreat.

When the battle was alluded to, the brows of the French officers clouded, and they denounced in angry terms the fatal blunder of the marshal of weakening his centre to strengthen the left against a feigned attack.  But the subject soon changed again, for, as the marquis said, “It would be quite time to talk it over tomorrow, when they would know who had fallen, and what were the losses;” for from their position on the left, they had little idea of the terrible havoc which had been made among the best blood in France.