which she had just been speaking, and the vague wonder that flashed
through her mind whether he could have heard her, she could have
met Rupert, with such warning as she had had, as a perfect
stranger. What she had said was perfectly true, that as a child he
had been her hero; but a young girl's heroes seldom withstand the
ordeal of a four years' absence, and Adele was no exception. Rupert
had gone out of her existence, and she had not thought of him,
beyond an occasional feeling of wonder whether he was alive, for
years; and had it not been for that unlucky speech--which, indeed,
she could not have made had any of her girlish feeling remained,
she could have met him as frankly and cordially as in the days when
they danced together.

In spite, therefore, of her efforts, it was with a heightened
colour that, as demanded by etiquette, Adele rose, and making a
deep reverence in return to the even deeper bow of Rupert, extended
her hand, which, taking the tips of the fingers, Rupert bent over
and kissed. Then, looking up in her face, he said:

"The marquis your father has encouraged me to hope that you will
take pity upon a poor prisoner, and forget and forgive his having
fought against your compatriots."

Adele adroitly took up the line thus offered to her, and was soon deep
in a laughing contest with him as to the merits of their respective
countries, and above all as to his opinion of French beauty. Rupert
answered in the exaggerated compliments characteristic of the time.
After talking with her for some little time he withdrew, saying that he
should have the honour of calling upon the following day with her father.

The next day when they arrived Rupert was greeted with a frank
smile of welcome.

"I am indeed glad to see you again, Monsieur Rupert; but tell me
why was that little farce of pretending that we were strangers,
played yesterday?"

"It was my doing, Adele," her father said. "You know what the king
is. If he were aware that Rupert were an old friend of ours he
would imagine all sorts of things."

"What sort of things, papa?"

"To begin with, that Monsieur Rupert had come to carry you off from
the various noblemen, for one or other of whom his Majesty destines
your hand."

The girl coloured.

"What nonsense!

"However," she went on, "it would anyhow make no difference so far
as the king is concerned, for I am quite determined that I will go
into a convent and let all my lands go to whomsoever his Majesty
may think fit to give them rather than marry any one I don't care
for. I couldn't do it even to please you, papa, so you may be quite
sure I couldn't do it to please the king.

"And now let me look at you, Monsieur Rupert. I talked to you last
night, but I did not fairly look at you. Yes, you are really very
little altered except that you have grown into a man: but I should
have known you anywhere. Now, would you have known me?"

"Not if I had met you in the street," Rupert said. "When I talk to
you, and look at you closely, Mademoiselle Adele Dessin comes back
again; but at a casual glance you are simply Mademoiselle Adele de
Pignerolles."

"I wish I were Adele Dessin again," she said. "I should be a
thousand times happier living with my father than in this
artificial court, where no one is what they seem to be; where
everyone considers it his duty to say complimentary things; where
everyone seems to be gay and happy, but everyone is as much slaves
as if they wore chains. I break out sometimes, and astonish them."

A slight smile passed over Rupert's face; and Adele knew that he
had overheard her the evening before. The girl flushed hotly. Her
father and Madame de Soissons were talking together in a deep bay
window at the end of the room.

"So you heard me last night, Monsieur Rupert. Well, there is
nothing to be ashamed of. You were my hero when I was a child; I
don't mind saying so now. If you had made me your heroine it would
have been different, but you never did, one bit. Now don't try to
tell stories. I should find you out in a moment; I am accustomed to
hear falsehoods all day."

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, mademoiselle. Every one must
have a hero, and I was the only boy you knew. No one could have
misunderstood you; and even to those artificial fops who were
standing round you, there seemed nothing strange or unmaidenly in
your avowal that when you were a little girl you made a hero of a
boy. You are quite right, I did not make a heroine of you. Boys, I
think, always make heroines of women much older than themselves. I
looked upon you as a dear, bright little girl, whom I would have
cared for and protected as I would my favourite dog. Some boys are
given to heroine worship. I don't think that is my line. I am only
just getting out of my boyhood now, and I have never had a heroine
at all."

So they sat and chatted, easily and pleasantly, as if four years
had been rolled back, and they were boy and girl again in the
garden of Windthorpe Chace.

"I suppose I shall see you every evening at the court?" Rupert
said.

"I suppose so," the girl sighed. "But it will be much more pleasant
here. You will come with papa, won't you?"

"Whenever he will be good enough to bring me," Rupert said.

"You remember what I told you about Adele," the marquis said, as
they walked back to their rooms in the palace.

"Surely, sir," Rupert replied.

"I think it would be as well, both for her sake and your own, that
you should not frequent her society in public, Rupert. His Majesty
intends to give her hand to one of the half-dozen of his courtiers
who are at present intriguing for it. Happily, as she is little
over sixteen, although marriages here are often made at that age,
the question does not press; and I trust that he will not decide
for a year, or even longer. But if you were to be seen much at her
side, it might be considered that you were a possible rival, and
you might, if the king thought that there was the slightest risk of
your interfering with his plans, find yourself shut up in the
Bastille, or at Loches, or some other of the fortress dungeons, and
Adele might be ordered to give her hand at once to the man he
selected for her.

"There is hope in time. Adele may in time really come to love one
of her suitors, and if he were one of those whom the king would
like to favour, he would probably consent to the match. Then, the
king may die. It is treason even to suppose such a thing possible;
still he is but mortal; or something else may occur to change the
course of the future.

"Of one thing I have decided: I will not see Adele sacrificed. I
have for the last four years managed to transmit a considerable
portion of the revenues of my estates to the hands of a banker in
Holland; and if needs be I will again become an exile with her, and
wait patiently until some less absolute monarch mounts the throne."

It was not so easy, however, to silence the mouths of the gossips
of Versailles as the Marquis de Pignerolles had hoped. It was true
that Rupert was seldom seen by the side of Adele in the drawing
room of the palace, but it was soon noticed that he called
regularly every morning with the marquis at Madame de Soissons',
and that, however long the visits of the marquis might be, the
young English officer remained until he left.

Adele's English bringing up, and her avowed liking for things
English, were remembered; and the Duc de Carolan, and the other
aspirants to Adele's hand, began to scowl angrily at the young
Englishman whenever they met him.

Upon the other hand, among the ladies Rupert was a general
favourite, but he puzzled them altogether. He was ready to chat, to
pay compliments, to act as chevalier to any lady, but his
compliments never passed beyond the boundary of mere courtly
expression; and in a court where it appeared to be almost the duty
of everyone to be in love, Rupert Holliday did not seem to know
what love meant.

The oddness of this dashing-looking young officer--who was, the
Marquis de Pignerolles assured everyone, a very gallant soldier,
and who had killed in a duel the finest swordsman in the German
army--being perfectly proof to all blandishments, and ready to
treat every woman with equal courtesy and attention, was a mystery
to the ladies of the court of Versailles; and Rupert was regarded
as a most novel and amusing specimen of English coldness and
impenetrability.

Rupert himself was absolutely ignorant of the opinion with which
men and women alike regarded him. He dreamt not that it was only
the character which so high an authority as the Marquis de
Pignerolles had given him as a swordsman of extraordinary skill,
that prevented the Duc de Carolan and some of Adele's other
admirers from forcing a quarrel upon him. Still less did he imagine
that the ladies of the court considered it in the highest degree
singular that he did not fall in love with any of them. He went his
way, laughed, talked, was pleasant with everyone, and enjoyed his
life, especially his morning visits to Madame de Soissons.

The first intimation that was given of the jealousy with which the
Duc de Carolan and others regarded Rupert, was a brief order that
the Marquis de Pignerolles received from the king to retire with
his prisoner to Paris; an intimation being given that although the
marquis would as heretofore be received at court, yet that Rupert
was not to leave the circuit of the walls of Paris. The marquis,
who had foreseen the gathering storm in a hundred petty symptoms,
was not surprised at the order. He knew the jealousy with which the
king regarded any person who appeared even remotely likely to
interfere with any plans that he had formed, and was sure that a
mere hint from some favourite as to the possibility of Rupert's
intimacy at Madame de Soissons proving an obstacle to the carrying
out of his wishes with regard to the disposal of Adele's hand,
would be sufficient to ensure the issue of an order for his instant
dismissal from Versailles. Rupert was astonished and indignant at
the order.

"At any rate I may call and say 'Goodbye' to mademoiselle, may I
not?"

"I think that you had better not, Rupert; but I have simply orders
to leave Versailles at one o'clock today. I can therefore only ask
you to be here at that hour. It is now eleven."

"Very well, sir," Rupert said, "I will be here in time; and as I am
not a prisoner, and can go about where I like, I do not think that
even the king could object to my paying a visit of adieu."

On presenting himself at Madame de Soissons', Rupert heard that, in
accordance with the king's command that morning received, Madame de
Soissons and Mademoiselle de Pignerolles had gone out to the hunt,
one of the royal carriages having come for them.

Rupert, determined not to be baulked, hurried back to the stables
where the horses of the marquis, one of which was always at his
disposal, were kept. In a few minutes he was riding out towards the
forest of Saint Germains, where he learned that the royal chase had
gone.

He rode for some time, until at last he came up with one of the
royal carriages which had got separated from the others. He saw at
once that it contained two of the ladies of the court with whom he
was most intimate. They gave an exclamation of surprise as he
reined up his horse at the window.

"You, Monsieur Holliday! How imprudent! Everyone knows that you are
in disgrace, and exiled to Paris. How foolish of you to come here!"

"I have done nothing to be ashamed of," Rupert said. "Besides, I
was ordered to leave at one o'clock, and it is not one o'clock
yet."

"Oh, we are all angry with you, Monsieur l'Anglais, for you have
been deceiving us all for the last three months. But, now mind, we
bear no malice; but pray ride off."

As she spoke she made a sign to Rupert to alight and come to the
window, so that the coachman might not overhear what was said.

"Do you know," she said, earnestly, "that you are trifling with
your safety; and, if la belle Anglaise loves you, with her
happiness? You have already done more than harm enough. The king
has today, when he joined the hunt, presented to her formally
before all the court the Duc de Carolan as her future husband.
Remember, if you are found here you will not only be sent straight
to some fortress, where you may remain till you are an old man, but
you will do her harm by compromising her still further, in which
case the king might be so enraged, that he might order her to marry
the duke tomorrow."

"You are right. Thank you," Rupert said, quietly; "and I have
indeed, although most unwittingly, done harm. Why you should all
make up your minds I love Mademoiselle de Pignerolles I know not. I
have never thought of the matter myself. I am but just twenty, and
at twenty in England we are still little more than boys. I only
know that I liked her very much, just as I did when she was a
little girl."

"Oh, monsieur, but you are sly, you and l'Anglaise. So it was you
that she owned was her hero; and monsieur the marquis introduced
you as a stranger. Oh, what innocence!

"But there," she went on kindly, "you know your secret is safe with
us. And monsieur," and she leant forward, "although you would not
make love to me, I bear no malice, and will act as your deputy. A
very strict watch is certain to be kept over her. If you want to
write to her, enclose a note to me. Trust me, she shall have it.

"There, do not stop to thank me. I hear horses' hoofs. Gallop away,
please; it would ruin all were you caught here."

Rupert pressed the hands the two ladies held out to him to his
lips, mounted his horse, and rode furiously back to Versailles,
where he arrived just in time to leave again for Paris at the hour
beyond which their stay was not to be delayed.

Chapter 19: The Evasion.

Upon the ride from Versailles to Paris Rupert told the marquis what
he had done and heard.

"It is bad news, Rupert. I will ride back this afternoon, when I
have lodged you in Paris, and see Adele. If she objects--as I know
she will object to this marriage--I shall respectfully protest.
That any good will come of the protest I have no thought, but my
protest may strengthen Adele's refusal, by showing that she has her
father's approval.

"Adele will of course be treated coldly at first, then she will
have pressure put upon her, then be ordered to choose between a
convent and marriage. She will choose a convent. Now in some
convents she could live quietly and happily, in others she would be
persecuted. If she is sent to a convent chosen for her, it will be
worse than a prison. Her life will be made a burden to her until
she consents to obey the king's command. Therefore, my object will
be to secure her retreat to a convent where she will be well
treated and happy. But we will talk of this again."

It was not until the following afternoon that the marquis returned
from Versailles.

"I am off to the front again," he said. "I had an audience with his
Majesty this morning, and respectfully informed him of my
daughter's incurable repugnance to the Duc de Carolan, and of her
desire to remain single until at least she reached the age of
twenty. His Majesty was pleased to say that girls' whims were
matters to which it behoved not to pay any attention. He said,
however, that for the present he would allow it to remain in
abeyance, and that he begged me to see Adele, and to urge upon her
the necessity for making up her mind to accept his Majesty's
choice. He also said that the news from the army was bad, that good
officers were urgently required there, and that it would be
therefore advisable for me to repair at once to the front and again
take the command of my regiment. He said that he wished me to take
you with me as far as Lille, and that you should there take up your
residence."

"Of course I will accompany you, sir," Rupert said; "but I will
withdraw my parole as soon as you hand me over, and take my chance
of escaping."

"Yes, I should do that, Rupert, indeed, as you gave your parole to
me, you can give it back to me now, if you choose. I will run the
risk of some little anger on the part of the king, if you quit me
on your way to Lille and make the best of your way to the
frontier."

"No, I thank you," Rupert said. "There can't be much difficulty in
escaping from a town when one wants to do so; and it would do you
an evil turn indeed to incense the king against you at the present
time."

The next morning, just as they were setting out, a lackey placed a
note in Rupert's hands.

"I hear you are sent off to Lille. I have a cousin there, and have
written to recommend you to his care. I will keep my promise, and
let you know, if needs be, of what is happening to the young person
we spoke of--Diana."

Rupert wrote a few words of earnest thanks, and imitating the
example set him, gave it unaddressed and unsigned to the lackey,
with a handsome present to himself.

On the way to Lille, the marquis told Rupert his plans for the
withdrawal of Adele from court, and her concealment, should Louis
insist on the marriage being pressed on.

Arriving at Lille, Rupert was handed over to the governor, and
having formally withdrawn his parole to make no effort to escape,
he was assigned quarters in barracks, whence he was allowed to go
into the town during daylight; being obliged, however, to attend at
roll call at midday. The fortifications of the town were so strong
and well guarded that it was supposed that the chance of escape was
small.

The following day the Marquis de Pignerolles took an affectionate
leave of Rupert, and went on to join the army; and an hour or two
later Captain Louis d'Etamps, the cousin of whom Diana had written,
called upon him, and placed himself at his service. His cousin had
told him of the supposed crime for which Rupert had been sent away
from court, and felt much sympathy with what she considered his
hard treatment. Not only Louis d'Etamps, but the French officers of
the garrison, showed great kindness and attention to the English
prisoner, for the Duke of Marlborough had treated the French
officers who fell into his hands at Ramilies with such kindness and
courtesy, that the French were glad to have an opportunity of
reciprocating the treatment when the chance fell in their way. Late
in the autumn, the Marquis de Pignerolles was brought back to Lille
seriously wounded in one of the last skirmishes of the campaign.
Rupert spent all the time he was allowed to be out of barracks at
his friend's quarters. The wound was not considered dangerous, but
it would keep the marquis a prisoner to his room for weeks.

A few days after the marquis was brought in, Louis d'Etamps came
into Rupert's room early in the morning.

"I have a note for you from my fair cousin," he said. "It must be
something particular, for she has sent a special messenger with a
letter to me, and on opening it I find only a line asking me to
give you the enclosed instantly."

Rupert opened the latter from Diana d'Etamps; it was as follows:

"Adele has been ordered to marry the Duc de Carolan on the 15th.
Unless she consents, she is on the 14th to be sent to the nunnery
of Saint Marie, the strictest in France, where they will somehow or
other wring consent from her before many weeks are over. They have
done so in scores of cases like hers. I promised to tell you, and I
have done so. But I don't see that anything can be done. I hear
Monsieur le Marquis is badly wounded, but even were he here, he
could do nothing. The king is resolute. The Duc de Carolan has just
given 200,000 crowns towards the expenses of the war."

"May I see?" Louis d'Etamps said, for the young men were now fast
friends.

Rupert handed him the note.

"What can you do, my poor boy?" he said.

"I will go and see the marquis, and let you know afterwards,"
Rupert said. "I shall do something, you may be sure."

"If you do, you will want to escape from Lille. I will see about
the arrangements for that. There is no time to be lost. It is the
10th today."

Rupert's conversation with the Marquis de Pignerolles was long and
interesting. The marquis chafed at being confined to a sick bed and
permitting Rupert to run the risk, which was immense, of the
attempt alone. However, as he could not move, and as Rupert was
determined to do something, the marquis entered into all the plans
he had drawn up, and intended to follow when such an emergency
occurred. He gave him a letter for Adele, and then they parted.

At his room Rupert found Louis.

"Quick," he said, "there is no time to lose. At ten o'clock a
convoy of wounded leave for Paris. The doctor in charge is a friend
of mine and a capital fellow. I have just seen him. All is
arranged. Come along to my quarters, they are on the line that the
convoy goes to the gate. Jump in bed, then I will bandage up your
head with plaisters so that not more than space to see and breathe
out of will be left. When the convoy arrives at the door, he will
have an empty litter ready, will bring up four men who will lift
you in, supposing you to be a wounded French officer, carry you
down, and off you go with the convoy, not a soul save the doctor,
you, and I, the wiser. He has got a pass to leave the city with
forty-eight sick and ten soldiers, and he has only to tell one of
those marked to go that he is not well enough to be moved, and will
go with the next convoy. The messenger who brought the letter has
started again, and has taken with him a led horse of mine. He will
be at the hostelry of Henri the 4th, at the place where you will
stop tonight. He will not know who you are, I have told him that a
friend of mine will call for the horse, which I had promised to
send him.

"When you halt for the night, the doctor will order you to be
carried into his own room. You will find two or three suits of
clothes in the litter, a lackey's suit of our livery which may be
useful, a country gentleman's, and one of mine. When you are alone
with the doctor and all is safe, get up, put on the country
gentleman's suit, say goodbye to him and go straight to the stables
at the Henri the 4th. You are the Sire de Nadar. I have written a
note here, telling you the horse will be there and you are to fetch
it--here it is. The messenger will know my seal."

"I am indeed obliged to you," Rupert said, "you have thought of
everything; but how will the doctor explain my not being
forthcoming in the morning?"

"Oh, he will arrange that easily enough. The soldiers will all
sleep soundly enough after this march; besides, they will not, in
all probability, be near his quarters, so he will only have to say
that he found you were too ill to continue the journey, and had
therefore had you carried to a confrere of his. You must be under
no fear, Rupert, of any evil consequences to anyone, for no one
will ever connect you with the convoy. You will be missed at roll
call, but that will go for nothing. When you are absent again at
six o'clock, you will be reported as missing. Then it will be
supposed that you are hid in the city, and a sharp watch will be
set at the gates; but after a few days it will be supposed that you
have either got over the walls, or that you have gone out disguised
as a peasant. A prisoner of war more or less makes but little
difference, and there will never be any fuss about it."

Soon after dusk on the evening of the 13th of October, Adele de
Pignerolles was sitting alone in a large room in the house of
Madame de Soissons. A wood fire was blazing, and even in that
doubtful light it might have been seen that the girl's eyes were
swollen with crying. She was not crying now, but was looking into
the fire with a set, determined look in her face.

"I don't care," she said; "they may kill me at Saint Marie, but I
will never say yes. Oh, if papa were but here."

At that moment there was a knock at the door, and a bright-looking
waiting maid entered.

"A note, mademoiselle, from Mademoiselle d'Etamps--and
mademoiselle," and she put her finger mysteriously to her lips, "it
is a new lackey has brought it. I told him to come again in ten
minutes for an answer; for I thought it better he should not come
in to be looked at by Francois and Jules."

"Why not, Margot?" Adele asked in great surprise.

"Because, mademoiselle, he seemed to me--I may be wrong, you
know--but he seemed to me very, very like--"

"Like whom, Margot? How mysterious you are."

"Like the English officer," Margot said, with an arch nod.

Adele leapt to her feet.

"You must be mad, Margot. There, light a candle."

But without waiting, Adele knelt down close to the fire, and broke
open the letter.

A flush, even ruddier than that given by the fire, mounted over her
face.

"It is him, Margot. He has come from my father. Now we are to do
what I told you about. We are to go off tonight under his charge,
to your mother's, my dear old nurse, and there I am to live with
you, and be as your cousin, till papa can get me out of the
country."

"And is the young officer to live there till the marquis comes?"
Margot asked, slyly. "He might pass as another cousin, mademoiselle."

"How foolish you are, Margot, and this is no time for folly. But
listen. My father says, 'Rupert will be in the street round the
corner, with three horses, at eleven o'clock. You and Margot are to
be dressed in the boys' clothes that I bade you prepare. Take in
bundles two of Margot's dresses. Do not be afraid to trust yourself
with Rupert Holliday. Regard him as a brother; he has all my
confidence and trust.'"

"We must remember that," Margot said.

"Remember what, Margot?"

"Only that you are to regard him as a brother, mademoiselle."

"Margot, Margot, I am surprised at you, joking like a child when we
have a terrible business before us. But indeed I feel so happy at
the thought of escape from that terrible convent, that I could joke
like a child also."

"You had better write a line for him, mademoiselle. It was from
chance that I happened to be in the hall when he rang; and we don't
want him to come in to be stared at by Francois while you write an
answer."

Quickly Adele sat down at a table, and wrote:

"At the hour and place named, expect us--Yours, trustfully, Adele."

As the clock struck eleven two slight figures stole noiselessly out
of the garden gate of Madame de Soissons' house at Versailles. The
town was hushed in sleep, and not a sound was moving in the street.
They carried bundles with them, and walked with rapid steps to a
small lane which led off the street by the side of the garden wall.
It was quite dark, and they could see nothing, but a voice said:

"Adele!"

"Rupert!" one of the figures answered, in shy, trembling tones.

"Please stay where you are," Rupert said. "It is lighter in the
street."

The horses were led forth noiselessly, for Rupert had fastened
cloths round their feet, to prevent the iron shoes sounding on the
round pebbles which paved the streets.

Not a word was said. There was a warm clasp of the hand, and Rupert
lifted Adele into the saddle. Margot climbed into another, and the
three rode rapidly down the streets. Not a word was spoken until
they were in the open country.

"Thank God, you are safe thus far, Adele. The last time I helped
you on to a horse was the day you went out to see my hawk kill a
heron."

"Oh, Rupert," the girl said, "it seems like a dream. But please do
not let us talk yet about ourselves. Tell me about Papa. How is
he?"

Rupert told her; and gradually as they talked the excitement and
agitation passed off.

"And where did you get the horses, Rupert?"

"The one I am riding is Louis d'Etamps'," he said, "the others are
your father's. I brought orders from him to his steward in Paris,
that two of his best horses were to be sent this morning to a
stable in Versailles, and left there, and that a person with an
order from him would call for them."

"I cannot see you in the least. Are you dressed as Monsieur
d'Etamps' lackey still?"

"No, I am now a quiet country gentleman, riding down from Paris
with my two sons, who have been up with me to see their aunt who
lives in the Rue du Tempe."

"Talk French, please, Rupert. Margot will understand then; and she
is so brave and good, and shares my danger, so she ought to be as
one of us."

Adele's spirits rose as they got farther from Versailles, and they
talked and laughed cheerfully, but in low tones.

Three miles from Versailles, as they rode past a crossroad, two
mounted men dashed out suddenly.

"Stand, in the king's name! Who are you?"

"We are travellers," Rupert said, quietly, "and go where we will.
Who are you?"

"We are guards of the court, and we must know who you are before we
suffer you to pass. None ride at night near Versailles but with a
pass."

"I am an exception then," Rupert said, "and I advise you not to
interfere with us;" and he urged his horse a few feet in advance of
his companions.

One of the horsemen seized his bridle, while another drew a pistol.

Rupert's sword leaped from its scabbard and cut down the man who
held the rein. The other fired, but Rupert threw himself forward on
the horse's neck and the bullet whizzed over his head. He rode at
the garde, and with a heavy blow with the pommel of the sword
struck him senseless from his horse.

"Now," he said to Adele, "we can ride on again. You are not
frightened, I hope?"

"Not so frightened as I was the first time you drew sword in my
behalf," the girl said; "but it is very dreadful. Are they killed,
Rupert?"

"Not a bit of it," Rupert said; "one has got a gash on the head
which will cost him a crown in plaister, the other may have lost
some teeth. It would have been wise to have killed them, for their
tale in the morning is likely to be regarded as throwing some light
upon your disappearance; but I could not kill men who were only
doing their duty. At any rate we have twelve hours' start, even if
they take up the clue and pursue us on this line tomorrow.

"It is about ten miles this side of Poitiers that your mother
lives, is it not, Margot?"

"Yes, Monsieur Rupert. How surprised she will be at my arrival with
my cousins."

"Oh, we are both your cousins, are we, Margot?"

"Mademoiselle Adele is to pass as my cousin, monsieur, and I
suppose you must be either another cousin, or else her brother."

"Margot," Adele said, "you chatter too much."

"Do I, mademoiselle? It is better than riding through the darkness
without speaking. I was very glad when the cloths were off the
horses' feet, for we seemed like a party of ghosts."

"How long shall we be getting there?" Adele asked, presently.

"Six days, if we do it all with the same horses," Rupert said; "and
I am afraid to hire horses and leave them on the way, as it would
look as if we were pressed for time. No, for today we are safe--but
for today only. Messengers will be sent in all directions with
orders for our arrest. They will take fresh relays of horses; and
really our only hope is in disguise. I propose that we go the first
stage without halting as far as our horses will carry us. I think
we can get to Orleans. There we will put them up, and take rooms.
Then Margot must slip out in her own dress and buy two peasant
girls' attire, and I will pick up at some dealer in old clothes a
suit which will enable me to pass as a wounded soldier making his
way home. Then we will strike off from the main road and follow the
lanes and get on some other road. They will inquire all along the
road and will hear of a gentleman and two youths, and will for a
while have that in their minds. No one will particularly notice us,
and we shall get into Tours safely enough.

"We must never enter a house or town together, for they will be on
the lookout for three people, and neither a soldier with his head
bound up, nor two peasant girls, will attract attention. At Tours I
will get a farmer's dress, and will buy a horse and cart, and a
load of hay, and will pick you up outside the town. You can get on
the hay, and can cover yourselves over if you see any horsemen in
pursuit. After that it will be all easy work."

"Why could you not get the cart at Orleans, Rupert?" Adele asked.

"I might," he said; "but I think that the extra change would be
best, as they would then have no clue whatever to follow. They will
trace us to Orleans, and you may be sure that there will be a hot
hue and cry, and it may be that the fact of a horse and cart having
been sold would come out. They will not know whether we have made
east, west, or south from there, so there will be a far less active
search at Tours than there will at Orleans."

So the journey was carried out, and without any serious adventure;
although with a great many slight alarms, and some narrow escapes
of detection, which cannot be here detailed. The party arrived at
the spot where the lane leading to the little farm occupied by
Margot's mother left the main road. Here they parted, the girls
taking their bundles, and starting to trudge the last few miles on
foot.

Margot discreetly went on a little ahead, to give her mistress the
opportunity of speaking to Rupert alone, but she need not have done
so, for all that Rupert said was:

"I have been in the light of your brother this time, Adele, as your
father gave you into my charge. If I ever come again, dear, it will
be different."

"You are very good, Rupert. Goodbye;" and with a wave of the hand
she ran after Margot; while Rupert, mounting the cart, drove on
into Poitiers.

Here he sold his load of hay to a stable keeper, drove a mile or
two out of the town, entered a wood, and then took the horse out of
the cart, and leaving the latter in a spot where, according to all
appearances, it was not likely to be seen for months, drove the
horse still further into the wood, and, placing a pistol to its
head, shot it dead. Then he renewed his disguise as a soldier, but
this time dispensed with the greater part of his bandages, and set
out on his return, in high spirits at having so successfully
performed his journey.

He pursued his journey as far back as Blois without the slightest
interruption, but here his tramp came to a sudden termination.
Secure in the excellence of his French, Rupert had attempted no
disguise as to his face beyond such as was given by a strip of
plaister, running from the upper lip to the temple. He strode gaily
along, sometimes walking alone, sometimes joining some other
wayfarer, telling every one that he was from Bordeaux, where he had
been to see his parents, and get cured of a sabre cut.

As he passed through the town of Blois, Rupert suddenly came upon a
group of horsemen. Saluting as he passed--for in those days in
France no one of inferior rank passed one of the upper classes
without uncovering--he went steadily on.

"That is a proper looking fellow," one of the party said, looking
after him.

"By our Lady," exclaimed another, "I believe I have seen that head
and shoulders before. Yes, I feel sure.

"Gentlemen, we have made a prize. Unless I am greatly mistaken,
this is the villainous Englishman who it is believed aided that
malapert young lady to escape."

In another moment Rupert was surrounded. His hat was knocked off;
and the Duc de Carolan, for it was he, exclaimed in delight:

"I thought that I could not be mistaken. It is himself."

Rupert attempted no resistance, for alone and on foot it would have
been hopeless.

The governor of the royal castle of Blois was one of the party, and
Rupert found himself in another ten minutes standing, with guards
on each side of him, before a table in the governor's room, with
the governor and the Duc de Carolan sitting as judges before him.

"I have nothing to say," Rupert said, quietly. "I escaped from
Lille because I had been, as I deemed it, unworthily treated in
Paris. I had withdrawn my parole, and was therefore free to escape
if I could. I did escape, but finding the frontier swarmed with
French troops, I thought it safer to make for central France, where
a wayfarer would not be looked upon as suspiciously as in the
north. Here I am. I decline to answer any further questions.

"As to the lady of whom you question me, I rejoice to find, by the
drift of your questions, that she has withdrawn herself from the
persecution which she suffered, and has escaped being forced into
marriage with a man she once described in my hearing as an ape in
the costume of the day."

"And that is all you will say, prisoner?" the governor asked, while
the Duc de Carolan gave an exclamation of fury.

"That is all, sir; and I would urge, that as an English officer I
am entitled to fair and honourable treatment; for although I might
have been shot in the act of trying to escape from prison, it is
the rule that an escaping prisoner caught afterwards, as I am,
should have fair treatment, although his imprisonment should be
stricter and more secure than before.

"As to the other matter, there cannot be, I am assured, even a
tittle of evidence to connect me with the event you mention. As far
as I hear from you, I escaped on the 10th from Lille, which date is
indeed accurate. Three days later Mademoiselle de Pignerolles left
Versailles. The connection between the two events does not appear
in any way clear to me."

"It may or it may not be," the governor said. "However, my duty is
clear, to keep you here in safe ward until I receive his Majesty's
orders."

Four days later the royal order came. Rupert was to be taken to the
dreaded fortress prison of Loches, a place from which not one in a
hundred of those who entered in ever came from alive.

Chapter 20: Loches.

"A British officer; broke out from Lille. Ah!" the Governor of
Loches said to himself, as he glanced over the royal order.
"Something else beyond that, I fancy. Prisoners of war who try to
break prison are not sent to Loches. I suppose he has been in
somebody's way very seriously. A fine young fellow, too--a really
splendid fellow. A pity really; however, it is not my business.

"Number four, in the south tower," he said, and Rupert was led
away.

Number four was a cell on the third story of the south tower. More
than that Rupert did not know. There was no looking out from the
loopholes that admitted light, for they were boarded up on the
outside. There was a fireplace, a table, a chair, and a bedstead.
Twice a day a gaoler entered with provisions; he made no reply to
Rupert's questions, but shook his head when spoken to.

For the first week Rupert bore his imprisonment with cheerfulness,
but the absolute silence, the absence of anything to break the
dreary monotony, the probability that he might remain a prisoner
all his life, was crushing even to the most active and energetic
temperament.

At the end of a month the gaoler made a motion for him to follow
him. Ascending the stairs to a great height, they reached the
platform on the top of the tower.

Rupert was delighted with the sight of the sky, and of the
wide-spreading fields--even though the latter was covered with
snow. For a half-an-hour he paced rapidly round and round the
limited walk. Presently the gaoler touched him, and pointing below,
said:

"Look!"

Rupert looked over the battlement, and saw a little party issue
from a small postern gate far below him, cross the broad fosse, and
pause in an open space formed by an outlying work beyond. They bore
with them a box.

"A funeral?" Rupert asked.

The man nodded.

"They all go out at last," he said, "but unless they tell what they
are wanted to tell, they go no other way."

Five minutes later Rupert was again locked up in his cell, when he
was, in the afternoon of the same day, visited by the governor, who
asked if he would say where he had taken Mademoiselle Pignerolles.

"You may as well answer," he said. "You will never go out alive
unless you do."

Rupert shook his head.

"I do not admit that I know aught concerning the lady you name; but
did I so, I should prefer death to betraying her."

"Ay," the governor said, "you might do that; but death is very
preferable to life at Loches."

In a day or two Rupert found himself again desponding.

"This will not do," he said earnestly. "I must arouse myself. Let
me think, what have I heard that prisoners do? In the first place
they try to escape; and some have escaped from places as difficult
as Loches. Well, that is one thing to be thought very seriously
about. In the next place, I have heard of their making pets of
spiders and all sorts of things. Well, I may come to that, but at
present I don't like spiders well enough to make pets of them;
besides I don't see any spiders to make pets of. Then some
prisoners have carved walls, but I have no taste for carving.

"I might keep my muscles in order and my health good by exercise
with the chair and table; get to hold them out at arm's length,
lift the table with one hand, and so on. Yes, all sorts of exercise
might be continued in that way, and the more I take exercise the
better I shall sleep at night and enjoy my meals. Yes, with nothing
else to do I might become almost a Samson here.

"There, now my whole time is marked out--escape from prison, and
exercise. I'll try the last first, and then think over the other."

For a long time Rupert worked away with his furniture until he had
quite exhausted himself; then feeling happier and better than he
had done since he was shut up, he began to think of plans of
escape. The easiest way would of course be to knock down and gag
the gaoler, and to escape in the clothes; but this plan he put
aside at once, as it was morally certain that he should be no
nearer to his escape after reaching the courtyard of the prison,
than he was in the cell. There remained then the chimney, the
loophole, and the solid wall.

The chimney was the first to disappear from the calculation.
Looking up it, Rupert saw that it was crossed by a dozen iron bars,
the height too was very great, and even when at the top the height
was immense to descend to the fosse.

The loophole was next examined. It was far too narrow to squeeze
through, and was crossed by three sets of bars. The chance of
widening the narrow loophole and removing the bars without
detection was extreme; besides, Rupert had a strong idea that the
loophole looked into the courtyard.

Finally he came to the conclusion, that if an escape was to be made
it must be by raising a flag of the floor, tunnelling between his
room and that underneath it, and working out through the solid
wall. It would be a tremendous work, for the loophole showed him
that the wall must be ten feet thick; still, as he said to himself,
it will be at least something to do and to think about, and even if
it takes five years and comes to nothing, it will have been useful.

Thus resolved, Rupert went to work, and laboured steadily. His
exercise with the chair and table succeeded admirably, and after
six months he was able to perform feats of strength with them that
surprised himself. With his scheme for escape he was less
fortunate. Either his tools were faulty, or the stones he had to
work upon were too compact and well built, but beyond getting up
the flag, making a hole below it in the hard cement which filled in
the space between the floor, large enough to bury a good sized cat,
Rupert achieved nothing.

He had gone into prison in November, it was now August, and he was
fast coming to the idea that Loches was not to be broken out of by
the way in which he was attempting to do it.

One circumstance gave him intense delight. Adele's hiding place had
not been discovered. This he was sure of by the urgency with which
the governor strove to extract from him the secret of her
whereabouts. Their demands were at the last meeting mingled with
threats, and Rupert felt that the governor had received stringent
orders to wring the truth from him. So serious did these menaces
become that Rupert ceased to labour at the floor of his cell, being
assured that ere long some change or other would take place. He was
not mistaken. One day the governor entered, attended, as usual, by
the gaoler and another official.

"Sir," he said to Rupert, "we can no longer be trifled with. I have
orders to obtain from you the name of the place to which you
escorted the young lady you went off with. If you refuse to answer
me, a different system to that which has hitherto been pursued will
be adopted. You will be removed from this comfortable room and
placed in the dungeons. Once there, you must either speak or die,
for few men are robust enough to exist there for many weeks.

"I am sorry, sir, but I have my duty to do. Will you speak, or will
you change your room?"

"I will change my room," Rupert said, quietly. "I may die; but if
by any chance I should ever see the light again, be assured that
all Europe shall know how officers taken in war are treated by the
King of France."

The governor shrugged his shoulders, made a sign to the gaoler, who
opened the door, and as the governor left four other warders
entered the room. Rupert smiled, he knew that this display of force
was occasioned by the fact that his gaoler, entering his room
suddenly, had several times caught him balancing the weighty table
on his arm or performing other feats which had astounded the
Frenchman. The work at the cell wall had always been done at night.

"I am ready to accompany you," Rupert said, and without another
word followed his conductor downstairs.

Arrived at a level with the yard, another door was unlocked, and
the party descended down some stairs, where the cold dampness of
the air struck a chill to Rupert's heart. Down some forty feet, and
then a door was unlocked, and Rupert saw his new abode. It was of
about the same size as the last, but was altogether without
furniture. In one corner, as he saw by the light of a lantern which
the gaoler carried, was a stone bench on which was a bundle of
straw. The walls streamed with moisture, and in some places the
water stood in shallow pools on the floor; the dungeon was some
twelve feet high; eight feet from the ground was a narrow loophole,
eighteen inches in height and about three inches wide. The gaoler
placed a pitcher of water and a piece of bread on the bench, and
then without a word the party left.

Rupert sat quiet on the bench for an hour or two before his eyes
became sufficiently accustomed to the darkness to see anything, for
but the feeblest ray of light made its way through so small a
loophole in a wall of such immense thickness.

"The governor was right," he muttered to himself. "A month or two
of this place would kill a dog."

It was not until the next day that the gaoler made his appearance.
He was not the same who had hitherto attended him, but a
powerful-looking ruffian who was evidently under no orders as to
silence such as those which had governed the conduct of the other.

"Well," he began, "and how does your worship like your new palace?"

"It is hardly cheerful," Rupert said; "but I do not know that
palaces are ever particularly cheerful."

"You are a fine fellow," the gaoler said, looking at Rupert by the
light of his lantern. "I noted you yesterday as you came down, and
I thought it a pity then that you would not say what they wanted
you to. I don't know what it is, and don't want to; but when a
prisoner comes down here, it is always because they want to get
something out of him, or they want to finish with him for good and
all. You see you are below the level of the moat here. The water
comes at ordinary times to within six inches of that slit up there.
And in wet weather it happens sometimes that the stream which feeds
the moat swells, and if it has been forgotten to open the sluice
gates of the moat, it will rise ten feet before morning. I once
knew a prisoner drowned in the cell above this."

"Well," Rupert said, calmly. "After all one may as well be drowned
as die by inches. I don't owe you any ill will, but I should be
almost glad if I did, for then I should dash your brains out
against the wall, and fight till they had to bring soldiers down to
kill me."

The man gave a surly growl.

"I have my knife," he said.

"Just so," Rupert answered; "and it may be, although I do not think
it likely, that you might kill me before I knocked your brains out;
but that would be just what I should like. I repeat, it is only
because I have no ill will towards you that I don't at once begin a
struggle which would end in my death one way or another."

The gaoler said no more; but it was clear that Rupert's words had
in no slight degree impressed him, for he was on all his future
visits as civil as it was within his nature to be.

"Whenever you wish to see the governor, he will come to you." he
said to Rupert one day.

"If the governor does not come till I send for him," Rupert
answered, "he will never come."

Even in this dungeon, where escape seemed hopeless, Rupert
determined to do his best to keep life and strength together.
Nothing but the death of the king seemed likely to bring relief,
and that event might be many years distant. When it took place, his
old friend would, he was sure, endeavour in every way to find out
where he was confined, and to obtain his release. At any rate he
determined to live as long as he could; and he kept up his spirits
by singing scraps of old songs, and his strength by such gymnastic
exercises as he could carry out without the aid of any movable
article. At first he struck out his arms as if fighting, so many
hundred of times; then he took to walking on his hands; and at last
he loosened one of the stones which formed the top of the bed, and
invented all sorts of exercises with it.

"What is the day and month?" he said one day to his gaoler.

"It is the 15th of October."

"It is very dark," Rupert said, "darker than usual."

"It is raining," the jailer said; "raining tremendously."

Late that night Rupert was awoke by the splashing of water. He
leaped to his feet. The cell was already a foot deep in water.

"Ha!" he exclaimed, "it is one thing or the other now."

Rupert had been hoping for a flood; it might bring death, but he
thought that it was possible that it might bring deliverance.

The top of the loophole was some two and a half feet from the
vaulted roof; the top of the door was about on the same level, or
some six inches lower. The roof arched some three feet above the
point whence it sprang.

Rupert had thought it all over, and concluded that it was possible,
nay almost certain, that even should the water outside rise ten
feet above the level of his roof, sufficient air would be pent up
there to prevent the water from rising inside, and to supply him
with sufficient to breathe for many hours. He was more afraid of
the effects of cold than of being drowned. He felt that in a flood
in October the water was likely to be fairly warm, and he
congratulated himself that it was now, instead of in December, that
he should have to pass through the ordeal.

Before commencing the struggle, he kneeled for some time in prayer
on his bed, and then, with a firm heart, rose to his feet and
awaited the rising of the water. This was rapid indeed. It was
already two feet over his bed, and minute by minute it rose higher.

When it reached his chin, which it did in less than a quarter of an
hour from the time when he had first awoke, he swam across to the
loophole, which was now but a few inches above the water, and
through which a stream of water still poured. Impossible as it was
for any human being to get through the narrow slit, an iron bar had
been placed across it. Of this Rupert took hold, and remained
quiescent as the water mounted higher and higher; presently it rose
above the top of the loophole, and Rupert now watched anxiously how
fast it ran. Floating on his back, and keeping a finger at the
water level against the wall, he could feel that the water still
rose. It seemed to him that the rise was slower and slower, and at
last his finger remained against a point in the stones for some
minutes without moving. The rise of the water inside the dungeon
had ceased.

That it continued outside he guessed by a slight but distinct
feeling of pressure in the air, showing that the column of water
outside was compressing it. He had no fear of any bad consequences
from this source, as even a height of twelve feet of water outside
would not give any unbearable pressure. He was more afraid that he
himself would exhaust the air, but he believed that there would be
sufficient; and as he knew that the less he exerted himself the
less air he required, he floated quietly on his back, with his feet
resting on the bar across the loophole, now two feet under water.

He scarcely felt the water cold. The rain had come from a warm
quarter; and the temperature of the water was actually higher than
that of the cold and humid dungeon.

Hour after hour passed. The night appeared interminable. From time
to time Rupert dived so as to look through the loophole, and at
last was rewarded by seeing a faint dull light. Day was beginning;
and Rupert had no doubt that with early morning the sluices would
be opened, and the moat entirely cleared of water.

He had, when talking with his gaoler one day, asked him how they
got rid of the water in the dungeon after a flood, and the man said
that there were pipes from the floor of each dungeon into the moat.
At ordinary times these pipes were closed by wooden plugs, as the
water outside was far above the floor; but that after a flood the
water was entirely let out of the moat, and the plugs removed from
the pipes, which thus emptied the dungeons.

From the way in which the fellow described the various
arrangements, Rupert had little doubt that the sluice gates were at
times purposely left closed, in order to clear off troublesome
prisoners who might otherwise have remained a care and expense to
the state for years to come.

Long as the night had seemed, it seemed even longer before Rupert
felt that the water was sinking. He knew that after the upper
sluice had opened the fosse might take some time to fall to the
level of the water inside the dungeon, and that until it did the
water inside would remain stationary.

He passed the hours by changing his position as much as possible;
sometimes he swam round and round, at other times he trod water,
then he would float quietly, then cling to the bar of the loophole.

The descent of the water came upon him at last as a surprise. He
was swimming round and round, and had not for some time touched the
wall, when suddenly a ray of light flashed in his face. He gave a
cry of joy. The water had fallen below the top of the loophole, and
swimming up to it, he could see across the fosse, and watch the
sunlight sparkling on the water. It was two months since he had
seen the light, and the feeling of joy overpowered him more than
the danger he had faced.

Rapidly the water fell, until it was level with the bottom of the
loophole. Then hours passed away; for the fosse would have to be
emptied before the drain leading from the dungeon could be opened.
However, Rupert hardly felt the time long. With his hands on the
bar and in the loophole, he remained gazing out at the sunlight.

The water in the fosse sank and sank, until he could no longer see
it; but he could see the sun glistening on the wet grass of the
bank, and he was satisfied. At last he was conscious of a strain on
his arm, and withdrawing his gaze from without, he saw that the
water had fallen six inches.

It now sank rapidly; and in an hour he could stand with his head
above it. Then he was able to sit down on his bed; but when the
water sank to a depth of two feet, he again lay on his back and
floated. He knew that a thick deposit of mud would be left, and
that it was essential for his plan that he should drift to the exit
hole of the water, and there be found, with the mud and slime
undisturbed by footsteps or movement. Another ten minutes, and he
lay on his back on the ground in a corner of the dungeon to which
the water had floated him, having taken care towards the end to
sink his head so that his hair floated partly over it, and as the
water drained off remained so. He guessed it to be about midday,
and he expected to be left undisturbed until night.

After a time he slept, and when he awoke it was dark, and soon
after he heard steps coming down the stairs. Now was the moment of
trial. Presently the door opened and four of the gaolers came in.
They bore between them a stretcher.

"This is the fifth," one said, and he recognized the voice of his
own attendant. "It is a pity, he was a fine fellow. Well, there's
one more, and then the job's done."

He bent over Rupert, who ceased breathing.

"He's the only one with his eyes closed," he said. "I expect
there's someone would break her heart if she knew he was lying
here. Well, lift him up, mates."

The two months' imprisonment in the dungeon had done one good
service for Rupert. The absence of light had blanched his face, and
even had he been dead he could hardly have looked more white than
he did. The long hours in the water had made his hands deadly cold,
and the hair matted on his face added to the deathlike aspect.

"Put the stretcher on the ground, and roll him over on to it," one
of the men said. "I don't mind a dead man, but these are so clammy
and slimy that they are horrible to touch. There, stand between him
and the wall, put a foot under him, roll him over. There, nothing
could be better! Now then, off we go with him. The weight's more
than twice as much as the others."

Rupert lay with his face down on the stretcher, and felt himself
carried upstairs, then along several long passages, then through a
door, and felt the fresh evening air. Now by the sound he knew that
he was being carried over the bridge across the moat to the burying
ground. Then the stretcher was laid down.

"Now then, roll him over into the hole," one said, "and let us go
back for the last. Peste! I am sick of this job, and shall need a
bottle of eau de vie to put me straight again."

One side of the stretcher was lifted, and Rupert was rolled over.
The fall was not deep, some three or four feet only, and he fell on
a soft mass, whose nature he could well guess at. A minute later he
heard the retreating footsteps of his gaolers, and leaping from the
grave, stood a free man by its side.

He knew that he was not only free, but safe from any active
pursuit, for he felt sure that the gaolers, when they returned with
their last load, would throw it in and fill up the grave, and that
no suspicion that it contained one short of the number would arise.

This in itself was an immense advantage to him, for on the escape
of a prisoner from Loches--an event which had happened but once or
twice in its records--a gun was fired and the whole country turned
out in pursuit of the prisoner.

Rupert paused for two minutes before commencing his flight, and
kneeling down, thanked God for his escape. Then he climbed the low
ramparts, dropped beyond them, and struck across country. The
exercise soon sent the blood dancing through his hands again, and
by the morning he was thirty-five miles from Loches.

He had stopped once, a mile or two after starting, when he came to
a stream. Into this he had waded, and had washed the muck stains
from his clothes, hair, and face.

With the morning dawn his clothes were dry, and he presented to the
eye an aspect similar to that which he wore when captured at Blois
nearly a year before, of a dilapidated and broken-down soldier, for
he had retained in prison the clothes he wore when captured; but
they had become infinitely more dingy from the wear and tear of
prison, and the soaking had destroyed all vestige of colour.

Presently he came to a mill by a stream.

"Hallo!" the miller said cheerily, from his door. "You seem to have
been in the wars, friend."

"I have in my way," Rupert said. "I was wounded in Flanders. I have
been home to Bordeaux, and got cured again. I started for the army
again, and some tramps who slept in the same room with me robbed me
of my last shilling. To complete my disaster, last night, not
having money to pay for a bed, I tramped on, fell into a stream,
and was nearly drowned."

"Come in," said the miller. "Wife, here is a poor fellow out of
luck. Give him a bowl of hot milk, and some bread."

Chapter 21: Back in Harness.

"You must have had a bad time of it." the miller said, as he
watched Rupert eating his breakfast. "I don't know that I ever saw
anyone so white as you are, and yet you look strong, too."

"I am strong," Rupert said, "but I had an attack, and all my colour
went. It will come back again soon, but I am only just out. You
don't want a man, do you? I am strong and willing. I don't want to
beg my way to the army, and I am ashamed of my clothes. There will
be no fighting till the spring. I don't want high pay, just my food
and enough to get me a suit of rough clothes, and to keep me in
bread and cheese as I go back."

"From what part of France do you come?" the miller asked. "You
don't speak French as people do hereabouts."

"I come from Brittany," Rupert said; "but I learnt to speak the
Paris dialect there, and have almost forgotten my own, I have been
so long away."

"Well, I will speak to my wife," the miller said. "Our last hand
went away three months since, and all the able-bodied men have been
sent to the army. So I can do with you if my wife likes you."

The miller's wife again came and inspected the wanderer, and
declared that if he were not so white he would be well enough, but
that such a colour did not seem natural.

Rupert answered her that it would soon go, and offered that if, at
the end of a week, he did not begin to show signs of colour coming,
he would give up the job.

The bargain was sealed. The miller supplied him with a pair of
canvas trousers and a blouse. Rupert cut off his long hair, and set
to work as the miller's man.

In a week the miller's wife, as well as the miller himself, was
delighted with him. His great strength, his willingness and
cheeriness kept, as they said, the place alive, and the pallor of
his face had so far worn off by the end of the week that the
miller's wife was satisfied that he would, as he said, soon look
like a human being, and not like a walking corpse.

The winter passed off quietly, and Rupert stood higher and higher
in the liking of the worthy couple with whom he lived; the climax
being reached when, in midwinter, a party of marauders--for at that
time the wars of France and the distress of the people had filled
the country with bands of men who set the laws at defiance--five in
number, came to the mill and demanded money.

The miller, who was not of a warlike disposition, would have given
up all the earnings which he had stored away, but Rupert took down
an old sword which hung over the fireplace; and sallying out, ran
through the chief of the party, desperately wounded two others, and
by sheer strength tossed the others into the mill stream, standing
over them when they scrambled out, and forcing them to dig a grave
and bury their dead captain and to carry off their wounded
comrades.

Thus when the spring came, and Rupert said that he must be going,
the regrets of the miller and his wife were deep, and by offer of
higher pay they tried to get him to stay. Rupert however was, of
course, unable to accede to their request, and was glad when they
received a letter from a son in the army, saying that he had been
laid up with fever, and had got his discharge, and was just
starting to settle with them at the mill.

Saying goodbye to his kind employers, Rupert started with a stout
suit of clothes, fifty francs in his pocket, and a document signed
by the Maire of the parish to the effect that Antoine Duprat,
miller's man, had been working through the winter at Evres, and was
now on his way to join his regiment with the army of Flanders.

Determined to run no more risks if he could avoid it, he took a
line which would avoid Paris and all other towns at which he had
ever shown himself. Sometimes he tramped alone, more often with
other soldiers who had been during the winter on leave to recover
from the effects of wounds or of fevers. From their talk Rupert
learned with satisfaction that the campaign which he had missed had
been very uneventful, and that no great battles had taken place. It
was expected that the struggle that would begin in a few weeks
would be a desperate one, both sides having made great efforts to
place a predominating force in the field.

As he had no idea of putting on the French uniform even for a day,
Rupert resolved as he approached the army frontier to abandon his
story that he was a soldier going to take his place in the ranks.

When he reached Amiens he found the streets encumbered with baggage
waggons taking up provisions and stores to the army. The drivers
had all been pressed into the service. Going into a cabaret, he
heard some young fellow lamenting bitterly that he had been dragged
away from home when he was in three weeks to have been married.
Waiting until he left, Rupert followed him, and told him that he
had heard what he had said and was ready to go as his substitute,
if he liked. For a minute or two the poor fellow could hardly
believe his good fortune; but when he found that he was in earnest
he was delighted, and hurried off to the contractor in charge of
the train--Rupert stopping with him by the way to buy a blouse, in
which he looked more fitted for the post.

The contractor, seeing that Rupert was a far more powerful and
useful-looking man than the driver whose place he offered to take,
made no difficulty whatever; and in five minutes Rupert, with a
metal plate with his number hung round his neck, was walking by the
side of a heavily-loaded team, while their late driver, with his
papers of discharge in his pocket, had started for home almost wild
with delight.

For a month Rupert worked backwards and forwards, between the posts
and the depots. As yet the allies had not taken the field, and he
knew that he should have no chance of crossing a wide belt of
country patrolled in every direction by the French cavalry. At the
end of that time the infantry moved out from their quarters and
took the field, and the allied army advanced towards them. The
French army, under Vendome, numbered 100,000 men, while
Marlborough, owing to the intrigues of his enemies at home, and the
dissensions of the allies, was able to bring only 70,000 into the
field.

The French had correspondents in most of the towns in Flanders,
where the rapacity of the Dutch had exasperated the people against
their new masters, and made them long for the return of the French.

A plot was on foot to deliver Antwerp to the French, and Vendome
moved forward to take advantage of it; but Marlborough took post at
Halle, and Vendome halted his army at Soignies, three leagues
distant. Considerable portions of each force moved much closer to
each other, and lay watching each other across a valley but a mile
wide.

Rupert happened to be with the waggons taking ammunition up to the
artillery in an advanced position, and determined, if possible, to
seize the opportunity of rejoining his countrymen. A lane running
between two high hedges led from the foot of the hill where he was
standing, directly across the valley, and Rupert slipping away
unnoticed, made the best of his way down the lane. When nearly half
across the valley, the hedges ceased, and Rupert issued out into
open fields.

Hitherto, knowing that he had not been noticed, he had husbanded
his breath, and had only walked quickly, but as he came into the
open he started at a run. He was already nearly half way between
the armies, and reckoned that before any of the French cavalry
could overtake him he would be within reach of succour by his
friends.

A loud shout from behind him showed that he was seen, and looking
round he saw that a French general officer, accompanied by another
officer and a dragoon, were out in front of their lines
reconnoitring the British position. They, seeing the fugitive, set
spurs to their horses to cut him off. Rupert ran at the top of his
speed, and could hear a roar of encouragement from the troops in
front. He was assured that there was no cavalry at this part of the
lines, and that he must be overtaken long before he could get
within the very short distance that then constituted musket range.

Finding that escape was out of the question, he slackened his
speed, so as to leave himself breath for the conflict. He was armed
only with a heavy stick. The younger officer, better mounted, and
anxious to distinguish himself on so conspicuous an occasion, was
the first to arrive.

Rupert faced round. His cap had fallen off, and grasping the small
end of the stick, he poised himself for the attack.

The French officer drew rein with a sudden cry,

"You!" he exclaimed, "you! What, still alive?"

"Yet no thanks to you, Monsieur le Duc," Rupert said, bitterly.
"Even Loches could not hold me."

His companions were now close at hand, and with a cry of fury the
duke rode at Rupert. The latter gave the horse's nose a sharp blow
as the duke's sweeping blow descended. The animal reared suddenly,
disconcerting the aim, and before its feet touched the ground the
heavy knob of Rupert's stick, driven with the whole strength of his
arm, struck the duke on the forehead.

At the same instant as the duke fell, a lifeless mass, over the
crupper, Rupert leaped to the other side of the horse, placing the
animal between him and the other assailants as they swept down upon
him. Before they could check their horses he vaulted into the
saddle, and with an adroit wheel avoided the rush of the dragoon.

The shouts of the armies, spectators of the singular combat, were
now loud, and the two Frenchmen attacked Rupert furiously, one on
each side. With no weapon but a stick, Rupert felt such a conflict
to be hopeless, and with a spring as sudden as that with which he
had mounted he leapt to the ground, as the general on one side and
the dragoon on the other cut at him at the same moment.

The spring took him close to the horse of the latter, and before
the amazed soldier could again strike, Rupert had vaulted on to the
horse, behind him. Then using his immense strength--a strength
brought to perfection by his exercise at Loches, and his work in
lifting sacks as a miller's man--he seized with both hands the
French soldier by the belt, lifted him from the seat, and threw him
backwards over his head, the man flying through the air some yards
before he fell on the ground with a heavy crash. Driving his heels
into the horse, he rode him straight at the French general, as the
latter--who had dashed forward as Rupert unseated the trooper--came
at him. Rupert received a severe cut on the left shoulder, but the
impetus of the heavier horse and rider rolled the French officer
and his horse on to the ground. Rupert shifted his seat into the
saddle, leapt the fallen horse, and stooping down seized the
officer by his waist belt, lifted him from the ground as if he had
been a child, threw him across the horse in front of him, and
galloped forward towards the allied lines, amid a perfect roar of
cheering, just as a British cavalry regiment rode out from between
the infantry to check a body of French dragoons who were galloping
up at full speed from their side.

With a thundering cheer the British regiment reined up as Rupert
rode up to them, the French dragoons having halted when they saw
that the struggle was over.

"Why, as I live," shouted Colonel Forbes, "it's the little cornet!"

"The little cornet! The little cornet!" shouted the soldiers, and
waved their swords and cheered again and again, in wild enthusiasm;
as Colonel Forbes, Lauriston, Dillon, and the other officers,
pressed forward to greet their long-lost comrade.

Before, however, a word of explanation could be uttered, an officer
rode up.

"The Duke of Marlborough wishes to see you," he said, in French.

"Will you take charge of this little officer, colonel?" Rupert
said, placing the French general, who was half suffocated by
pressure, rage, and humiliation, on his feet again.

"Now, sir," he said to the officer, "I am with you."

The latter led the way to the spot where the duke was sitting on
horseback surrounded by his staff, on rising ground a hundred yards
behind the infantry regiment.

"My Lord Duke," Rupert said, as he rode up, "I beg to report myself
for duty."

"Rupert Holliday!" exclaimed the duke, astonished. "My dear boy,
where do you come from, and where have you been? I thought I was
looking at the deeds of some modern Paladin, but now it is all
accounted for.

"I wrote myself to Marshal Villeroi to ask tidings of you, and to
know why you were not among the officers exchanged; and I was told
that you had escaped from Lille, and had never been heard of
since."

"He never heard of me, sir, but his Majesty of France could have
given you further news. But the story is too long for telling you
now."

"You must be anxious about your friends, Rupert. I heard from
Colonel Holliday just before I left England, begging me to cause
further inquiries to be made for you. He mentioned that your lady
mother was in good health, but greatly grieving at your
disappearance. Neither of them believed you to be dead, and were
confident you would reappear.

"And now, who is the French officer you brought in?"

"I don't know, sir," Rupert said, laughing. "There was no time for
any formal introduction, and I made his acquaintance without asking
his name."

An officer was at once sent off to Colonel Forbes to inquire the
name of the prisoner.

"There is one of your assailants making off!" the duke said; and
Rupert saw that the trooper had regained his feet and was limping
slowly away.

"He fell light," Rupert said; "he was no weight to speak of."

"The other officer is killed, I think," the duke said, looking with
a telescope.

"I fancy so," Rupert said, drily. "I hit him rather hard. He was
the Duc de Carolan, and as he had given much annoyance to a friend
of mine, not to mention a serious act of disservice to myself, I
must own that if I had to kill a Frenchman in order to escape, I
could not have picked out one with whom I had so long an account to
settle."

The officer now rode back, and reported that the prisoner was
General Mouffler.

"A good cavalry officer," the duke said. "It is a useful capture.

"And now, Rupert, you will want to be with your friends. If we
encamp here tonight, come in to me after it is dark and tell me
what you have been doing. If not, come to me the first evening we
halt."

Rupert now rode back to his regiment, where he was again received
with the greatest delight. The men had now dismounted, and Rupert,
after a few cordial words with his brother officers, went off to
find Hugh.

He found the faithful fellow leaning against a tree, fairly crying
with emotion and delight, and Rupert himself could not but shed
tears of pleasure at his reunion with his attached friend. After a
talk with Hugh, Rupert again returned to the officers, who were
just sitting down to a dinner on the grass.

After the meal was over Rupert was called upon to relate his
adventures. Some parts of his narrative were clear enough, but
others were singularly confused and indistinct. The first parts
were all satisfactory. Rupert's capture was accounted for. He said
that in the person of the commanding officer he met an old friend
of Colonel Holliday, who took him to Paris, and presented him at
Versailles.

Then the narrative became indistinct. He fell into disgrace. His
friend was sent back to the army, and he was sent to Lille.

"But why was this, Rupert," Captain Dillon--for he was now a
captain--asked. "Did you call his Majesty out? Or did you kiss
Madame de Maintenon? Or run away with a maid of honour?"

A dozen laughing suggestions were made, and then Rupert said
gravely:

"There was an unfounded imputation that I was interfering with the
plans which his Majesty had formed for the marriage of a lady and
gentleman of the court."

Rupert spoke so gravely that his brother officers saw that any
joking here would be ill timed; but sly winks were exchanged as
Rupert, changing the subject, went on to recount his captivity at
Lille.

The story of his escape was listened to eagerly, and then Rupert
made a long pause, and coloured lightly.

"Several things of no importance then happened," he said, "and as I
was going through the streets of Blois--"

"The streets of where?" Colonel Forbes asked, in astonishment. "You
escape from Lille, just on the frontier, what on earth were you
doing down at Blois, a hundred miles south of Paris?"

Rupert paused again.

"I really cannot explain it, colonel. I shall make a point of
telling the duke, and if he considers that I acted wrongly, I must
bear his displeasure; but the matter is of no real importance, and
does not greatly concern my adventures. Forgive me, if I do not
feel justified in telling it. All the rest is plain sailing."

Again the narrative went on, and the surprise at hearing that
Rupert had been confined at Loches, well known as a prison for
dangerous political offenders, was only exceeded by that occasioned
by the incidents of his escape therefrom. Rupert carried on his
story to the point of the escape from the French, which they had
just witnessed.

There was a chorus of congratulations at his having gone safely
through such great dangers; and Dillon remarked:

"It appears to me that you have been wasting your time and your
gifts most amazingly. Here have you been absent just two years, and
with the exception of a paltry marauder you do not seem to have
slain a single Frenchman, till you broke that officer's skull
today.

"I think, my friends, that the least we can do is to pass a formal
vote of censure upon our comrade for such a grievous waste of his
natural advantages. The only thing in his favour is, that he seems
to have been giving up his whole attention to growing, and he has
got so prodigiously broad and big that now he has again joined us
he will be able to make up for the otherwise sinful loss of time."

A chorus of laughter greeted Dillon's proposal, and the merry group
then broke up, and each went off to his duty.

Rupert's first effort was to obtain such clothes as would enable
him to appear in his place in the ranks without exciting laughter.
Hugh told him that all his clothes and effects were in store at
Liege, but indeed it was questionable whether any would be of use
to him. He was not taller indeed than he was two years before, but
he was broader, by some inches, than before. From the quartermaster
he obtained a pair of jack boots which had belonged to a trooper
who had been killed in a skirmish two days before, and from the
armourer he got a sword, cuirass, and pistols. As to riding
breeches there was no trouble, for several of the officers had
garments which would fit him, but for a regimental coat he could
obtain nothing which was in any way large enough. Hugh was
therefore dispatched to Halle to purchase a riding coat of the best
fashion and largest size that he could find, and a hat as much as
possible in conformity with those generally worn.

An hour or two later Lord Fairholm and Sir John Loveday rode over.
The news of the singular fight on the ground between the armies,
and of the reappearance of the famous "little cornet of the 5th
dragoons" having spread apace through the army.

Joyous and hearty were the greetings, and after a while, the party
being joined by Dillon, Rupert gave his three friends a full
account of his adventures, omitting some of the particulars which
he had not deemed it expedient to speak of in public.

"I understand now," Lord Fairholm said, "the change in your face
which struck me."

"Is my face changed?" Rupert said. "It does not seem to me that I
have changed in face a bit since I joined, six years ago."

"It is not in features, but in expression. You look good tempered
now, Rupert, even merry when you smile, but no man could make a
mistake with you now. There is, when you are not speaking, a sort
of intent look upon your face, intent and determined--the
expression which seems to tell of great danger expected and faced.
No man could have gone through that two months in the dungeon of
Loches and come out unchanged. All the other dangers you have gone
through--and you always seem to be getting into danger of some
kind--were comparatively sharp and sudden, and a sudden peril,
however great, may not leave a permanent mark; but the two months
in that horrible den, from which no other man but yourself would
deem escape possible, could not but change you.

"When you left us, although you were twenty, you were in most
things still a boy; there is nothing boyish about you now. It is
the same material, but it has gone through the fire. You were good
iron, very tough and strong, but you could be bent. Now, Rupert,
you have been tried in the furnace and have come out steel."

"You are very good to say so," Rupert said, smiling, "but I don't
feel all that change which you speak of. I hope that I am just as
much up to a bit of fun as ever I was. At present I strike you
perhaps as being more quiet; but you see I have hardly spoken to a
soul for eighteen months, and have got out of the way rather. All
that I do feel is, that I have gained greatly in strength, as that
unfortunate French trooper found to his cost today.

"But there, the trumpets are sounding; it's too late for a battle
today, so I suppose we have got a march before us."

Chapter 22: Oudenarde.

The trumpet call which summoned Rupert and his friends to horse
was, as he suspected, an indication that there was a general
movement of the troops in front.

Vendome had declined to attack the allies in the position they had
taken up, but had moved by his right to Braine le Leude, a village
close to the ground on which, more than a hundred years later,
Waterloo was fought, and whence he threatened alike Louvain and
Brussels. Marlborough moved his army on a parallel line to
Anderleet. No sooner had he arrived there, than he found that
Vendome was still moving towards his right--a proof that Louvain
was really the object of the attack. Again the allied troops were
set in motion, and all night, through torrents of rain, they
tramped wearily along, until at daybreak they were in position at
Parc, covering the fortress of Louvain. Vendome, finding himself
anticipated, fell back to Braine le Leude without firing a shot.

But though Marlborough had so far foiled the enemy, it was clear
that he was not in a condition to take the offensive before the
arrival of Prince Eugene, who would, he trusted, be able to come to
his assistance; and for weeks the armies watched each other without
movement.

On the 4th of July, Vendome suddenly marched from Braine le Leude,
intending to capture the fortress of Oudenarde. Small bodies of
troops were sent off at the same time to Ghent and Bruges, whose
inhabitants rose and admitted the French. Marlborough, seeing the
danger which threatened the very important fortress of Oudenarde,
sent orders to Lord Chandos who commanded at Ath, to collect all
the small garrisons in the neighbourhood, and to throw himself into
Oudenarde. This was done before Vendome could reach the place,
which was thus secured against a coup de main. Vendome invested the
fortress, brought up his siege train from Tournay, and moved
towards Lessines with his main army, to cover the siege.

The loss of Ghent and Bruges, the annoyances he suffered from party
attacks at home, and the failure of the allies to furnish the
promised contingents, so agitated Marlborough that he was seized
with an attack of fever.

Fortunately, on the 7th of July Prince Eugene arrived. Finding that
his army could not be up in time, he had left them, and,
accompanied only by his personal staff, had ridden on to join
Marlborough.

The arrival of this able general and congenial spirit did much to
restore Marlborough; and after a council with the prince, he
determined to throw his army upon Vendome's line of communications,
and thus force him to fight with his face to Paris.

At two in the morning of the 9th of July, the allies broke up their
camp, and advanced in four great columns towards Lessines and the
French frontier. By noon the heads of the columns had reached
Herfelingen, fourteen miles from their starting point, and bridges
were thrown across the Dender, and the next morning the army
crossed, and then stood between the French and their own frontier.

Vendome, greatly disconcerted at finding that his plans had all
been destroyed, ordered his army to fall back to Gavre on the
Scheldt, intending to cross below Oudenarde.

Marlborough at once determined to press forward, so as to force on
a battle, having the advantage of coming upon the enemy when
engaged in a movement of retreat. Accordingly, at daybreak on the
11th, Colonel Cadogan, with the advanced guard, consisting of the
whole of the cavalry and twelve battalions of infantry, pushed
forward, and marched with all speed to the Scheldt, which they
reached by seven o'clock. Having thrown bridges across it, he
marched to meet the enemy, his troops in battle array; the infantry
opposite Eynes, the cavalry extending to the left towards
Schaerken. Advancing strongly down the river in this order, Cadogan
soon met the French advanced guard under Biron, which was moving up
from Gavre. In the fighting the French had the advantage, retaining
possession of Eynes, and there awaiting the advance of the English.

Meanwhile Marlborough and Eugene, with the main body of the army,
had reached the river, and were engaged in getting the troops
across the narrow bridges, but as yet but a small portion of the
forces had crossed. Seeing this, Vendome determined to crush the
British advanced guard with the whole weight of his army, and so
halted his troops and formed order of battle.

The country in which the battle of Oudenarde was about to be fought
is undulating, and cut up by several streams, with hedgerows,
fields, and enclosures, altogether admirably adapted for an army
fighting a defensive battle. The village of Eynes lies about a mile
below Oudenarde and a quarter of a mile from the Scheldt. Through
it flows a stream formed by the junction of the two rivulets. At a
distance of about a mile from the Scheldt, and almost parallel with
that river, runs the Norken, a considerable stream, which falls
into the Scheldt below Gavre. Behind this river the ground rises
into a high plateau, in which, at the commencement of the fight,
the greater portion of the French army were posted.

The appearance of Colonel Cadogan with his advanced guard
completely astonished the French generals. The allies were known to
have been fifteen miles away on the preceding evening, and that a
great army should march that distance, cross a great river, and be
in readiness to fight a great battle, was contrary to all their
calculations of probabilities.

The Duke of Burgundy wished to continue the march to Ghent. Marshal
Vendome pointed out that it was too late, and that although a
country so intersected with hedges was unfavourable ground for the
army which possessed the larger masses of men, yet that a battle
must be fought. This irresolution and dissension on the part of the
French generals wasted time, and allowed the allies to push large
bodies of troops across the river unmolested. As fast as they got
over Marlborough formed them up near Bevere, a village a few
hundred yards north of Oudenarde. Marlborough then prepared to take
the offensive, and ordered Colonel Cadogan to retake Eynes.

Four English battalions, under Colonel Sabine, crossed the stream
and attacked the French forces in the village, consisting of seven
battalions under Pfiffer, while the cavalry crossed the rivulets
higher up, and came down on the flank of the village. The result
was three French battalions were surrounded and made prisoners, and
the other four routed and dispersed.

The French generals now saw that there was no longer a possibility
of avoiding a general action. Vendome would have stood on the
defensive, which, as he had the Norken with its steep and difficult
ground in his front, was evidently the proper tactics to have
pursued. He was, however, overruled by the Duke of Burgundy and the
other generals, and the French accordingly descended from the
plateau, crossed the Norken, and advanced to the attack. The armies
were of nearly equal strength, the French having slightly the
advantage. The allies had 112 battalions and 180 squadrons, in all
80,000 men; the French, 121 battalions and 198 squadrons, in all
85,000 men.

The French again lost time, and fell into confusion as they
advanced, owing to Marshal Vendome's orders being countermanded by
the Duke of Burgundy, who had nominally the chief command, and who
was jealous of Vendome's reputation. Marlborough divined the cause
of the hesitation, and perceiving that the main attack would be
made on his left, which was posted in front of the Castle of
Bevere, half a mile from the village of the same name; ordered
twelve battalions of infantry under Cadogan to move from his right
at Eynes to reinforce his left.

He then lined all the hedges with infantry, and stationing twenty
British battalions under Argyle with four guns in reserve, awaited
the attack. But few guns were employed on either side during the
battle, for artillery in those days moved but slowly, and the rapid
movements of both armies had left the guns far behind.

The French in their advance at once drew in four battalions, posted
at Groenvelde, in advance of Eynes, and then bearing to their
right, pressed forward with such vigour that they drove back the
allied left. At this point were the Dutch and Hanoverian troops.
Marlborough now dispatched Eugene to take command of the British on
the right, directed Count Lottum to move from the centre with
twenty battalions to reinforce that side of the fight, and went
himself to restore the battle on the left.

Eugene, with his British troops, were gradually but steadily, in
spite of their obstinate resistance, being driven back, when
Lottum's reinforcements arrived, and with these Eugene advanced at
once, and drove back the enemy. As these were in disorder, General
Natzmer, at the head of the Prussian cuirassiers, charged them and
drove them back, until he himself was fallen upon by the French
horse guards in reserve, while the infantry's fire from the
hedgerows mowed down the cuirassiers. So dreadful was the fire that
half the Prussian cavalry were slain, and the rest escaped with
difficulty, hotly pursued by the French household troops.

An even more desperate conflict was all this time raging on the
left. Here Marlborough placed himself at the head of the Dutch and
Hanoverian battalions, and led them back against the French, who
were advancing with shouts of victory, and desperate struggles
ensued. Alison in his history says:

"The ground on which the hostile lines met was so broken, that the
battle in that quarter turned almost into a series of partial
conflicts and even personal encounters. Every bridge, every ditch,
every wood, every hamlet, every enclosure, was obstinately
contested, and so incessant was the roll of musketry, and so
intermingled did the hostile lines become, that the field, seen
from a distance, appeared an unbroken line of flame. A warmer fire,
a more desperate series of combats, was never witnessed in modern
warfare. It was in great part conducted hand to hand, like the
battles of antiquity, of which Livy and Homer have left such
graphic descriptions. The cavalry could not act, from the multitude
of hedges and copses which intersected the theatre of conflict.
Breast to breast, knee to knee, bayonet to bayonet, they maintained
the fight on both sides with the most desperate resolution. If the
resistance, however, was obstinate, the attack was no less
vigorous, and at length the enthusiastic ardour of the French
yielded to the steady valour of the Germans. Gradually they were
driven back, literally at the bayonet's point; and at length,
resisting at every point, they yielded all the ground they had won
at the commencement of the action. So, gradually they were pushed
back as far as the village of Diepenbech, where so stubborn a stand
was made that the allies could no longer advance."

Overkirk had now got the rear of the army across the river, and the
duke, seeing that the Hill of Oycke, which flanked the enemy's
position, was unoccupied by them, directed the veteran general with
his twenty Dutch and Danish battalions to advance and occupy it.
Arrived there, he swung round the left of his line, and so pressed
the French right, which was advanced beyond their outer bounds into
the little plain of Diepenbech. The duke commanded Overkirk to
press round still further to his left by the passes of Mullem and
the mill of Royeghem, by which the French sustained their
communication with the force still on the plateau beyond the
Norken; and Prince Eugene to further extend his right so as to
encompass the mass of French crowded in the plain of Diepenbech.

The night was falling now, and the progress of the allies on either
flank could be seen by the flashes of fire. Vendome, seeing the
immense danger in which his right and centre were placed,
endeavoured to bring up his left, hitherto intact; but the
increasing darkness, the thick enclosures, and the determined
resistance of Eugene's troops, prevented him from carrying out his
intention. So far were the British wings extended round the plain
of Diepenbech, that they completely enclosed it, and Eugene's and
Overkirk's men meeting fought fiercely, each believing the other to
be French. The mistake was discovered, and to prevent any further
mishap of this kind in the darkness, the whole army was ordered to
halt where it was and wait till morning. Had the daylight lasted
two hours longer, the whole of the French army would have been
slain or taken prisoners; as it was, the greater portion made their
way through the intervals of the allied army around them, and fled
to Ghent. Nevertheless, they lost 6,000 killed and wounded, and
9,000 prisoners, while many thousands of the fugitives made for the
French frontier. Thus the total loss to Vendome exceeded 20,000
men, while the allies lost in all 5000.

When morning broke, Marlborough dispatched forty squadrons of horse
in pursuit of the fugitives towards Ghent, sent off Count Lottum
with thirty battalions and fifty squadrons to carry the strong
lines which the enemy had constructed between Ypres and Warneton,
and employed the rest of his force in collecting and tending the
wounded of both armies.

A few days later the two armies, that of Eugene and that of the
Duke of Berwick, which had been marching with all speed parallel to
each other, came up and joined those of Marlborough and Vendome
respectively. The Duke of Berwick's corps was the more powerful,
numbering thirty-four battalions and fifty-five squadrons, and this
raised the Duke de Vendome's army to over 110,000, and placed him
again fairly on an equality with the allies. Marlborough, having by
his masterly movement forced Vendome to fight with his face to
Paris, and in his retreat to retire still farther from the
frontier, now had France open to him, and his counsel was that the
whole army should at once march for Paris, disregarding the
fortresses just as Wellington and Blucher did after Waterloo.

He was however, overruled, even Eugene considering such an attempt
to be altogether too dangerous, with Vendome's army, 110,000
strong, in the rear; and it must be admitted it would certainly
have been a march altogether without a parallel.

Finding that his colleagues would not consent to so daring and
adventurous a march, Marlborough determined to enter France, and
lay siege to the immensely strong fortress of Lille. This was in
itself a tremendous undertaking, for the fortifications of the town
were considered the most formidable ever designed by Vauban. The
citadel within the town was still stronger, and the garrison of
15,000 picked troops were commanded by Marshal Boufflers, one of
the most skillful generals in the French army. To lay siege to such
a fortress as this, while Vendome, with this army of 110,000 men,
lay ready to advance to its assistance, was an undertaking of the
greatest magnitude.

In most cases the proper course to have taken would have been to
advance against and defeat Vendome before undertaking the siege of
Lille; but the French general had entrenched his position with such
skill that he could not be attacked; while he had, moreover, the
advantage, that if the allies stood between him and France, he
stood between them and their base, commanded the Scheldt and the
canals from Holland, and was therefore in position to interfere
greatly with the onerous operation of bringing up stores for the
British army, and with the passage to the front of the immense
siege train requisite for an operation of such magnitude as was now
about to be undertaken, and for whose transport alone 16,000 horses
were required.

Chapter 23: The Siege of Lille.

The British cavalry suffered less severely at Oudenarde than did
those of the other allied nationalities, as they were during the
greater portion of the day held in reserve; and neither Rupert nor
any of his special friends in the regiment were wounded. He was,
however, greatly grieved at the death of Sir John Loveday, who was
killed by a cannonball at the commencement of the action. Two of
the captains in the 5th were also killed, and this gave Rupert
another step. He could have had his captain's rank long before, had
he accepted the Duke's offer, several times repeated, of a post on
his staff. He preferred, however, the life with his regiment, and
in this his promotion was, of course, regular, instead of going up
by favour, as was, and still is, the case on the staff.

The train for the siege of Lille was brought up by canal from
Holland to Brussels; and although the French knew that a large
accumulation of military stores was taking place there, they could
not believe that Marlborough meditated so gigantic an undertaking
as the siege of Lille, and believed that he was intending to lay
siege to Mons.

Berwick, with his army, which had since his arrival on the scene of
action been lying at Douai, now advanced to Montagne; and Vendome
detached 18,000 men from his army, lying between Ghent and Bruges,
to Malle, to intercept any convoy that might move out from
Brussels.

Marlborough's measures were, however, well taken. Eugene, with
twenty-five battalions and thirty squadrons, moved parallel to the
convoy, which was fifteen miles in length; while the Prince of
Wurtemburg, General Wood, the Prince of Orange, each with a large
force, were so placed as to check any movement of the enemy.

The gigantic convoy left Brussels on the 6th of August, and reached
the camp near Lille on the 15th, without the loss of a single
wagon. Prince Eugene, with 53 battalions and 90 squadrons, in all
40,000 men, undertook the siege; while Marlborough, with the main
army of 60,000 men, took post at Heldun, where he alike prevented
Berwick and Vendome from effecting a junction, and covered the
passage of convoys from Brussels, Ath, and Oudenarde. No less than
eighty-one convoys, with food, stores, etc., passed safely along;
and the arrangements for their safety were so perfect that they
excited the lively admiration both of friends and foes.

Feuguieres, the French annalist, asks, "How was it possible to
believe that it was in the power of the enemy to convey to Lille
all that was necessary for the siege and supplies of the army, to
conduct there all the artillery and implements essential for such
an undertaking; and that these immense burdens should be
transported by land over a line of twenty-three leagues, under the
eyes of an army of 80,000 men, lying on the flank of a prodigious
convoy, which extended over five leagues of road? Nevertheless, all
that was done without a shot being fired or a chariot unharnessed.
Posterity will scarcely believe it. Nevertheless, it was the simple
truth."

To facilitate his operations, Marlborough threw six bridges across
the Scheldt, and 10,000 pioneers were collected to commence the
lines which were to surround the city. The lines were projected not
only to shut in the city, but to protect the besiegers from attacks
by a relieving army. Never since Caesar besieged Alesia had works
upon so gigantic a scale been constructed. They were fifteen miles
in circumference, and the ditch was fifteen feet wide and nine
deep.

On the 23rd of August, the lines of circumvallation being now
nearly finished, Eugene opened his trenches and began operations
against the city, the parts selected for attack being the gates of
Saint Martin and of the Madelaine. These points were upon the same
side of the city, but were separated from each other by the river
Dyle, which flows through the town.

On the morning of the 24th the cannonade opened, Prince Eugene
himself firing the first gun on the right, the Prince of Orange
that on the left attack. The troops worked with the greatest
energy, and the next day forty-four guns poured their fire into the
advanced works round the chapel of the Madelaine, which stood
outside the walls. The same night the chapel was carried by
assault; but the next night, while a tremendous cannonade was going
on, 400 French issued quietly from their works, fell upon the 200
Dutch who held the chapel, killed or drove them out, blew up the
chapel, which served as an advanced post for the besiegers, and
retired before reinforcements could arrive.

Marshal Vendome now determined to unite with the Duke of Berwick,
and to raise the siege, and by making a long and circuitous march,
to avoid Marlborough's force. This was accomplished; the two armies
united, and advanced to relieve Lille.

Marlborough, who foresaw the line by which they would approach,
drew up his army in order of battle, with his right resting on the
Dyle at Noyelles, and his left on the Margne at Peronne. Two hours
after he had taken up his position, the French army, 110,000
strong, the most imposing France had ever put in the field,
appeared before him.

The Duke of Marlborough had been strengthened by 10,000 men dispatched
to him by Prince Eugene from the besieging army, but he had only
70,000 men to oppose to the French. And yet, notwithstanding their
great superiority of numbers, the enemy did not venture to attack, and
for a fortnight the armies remained facing each other, without a blow
being struck on either side.

The French were, in fact, paralyzed by the jealousy of the two
great generals commanding them, each of whom opposed the other's
proposals; and nothing could be decided until the king sent
Monsieur Chamillard, the French minister of war, to examine the
spot, and give instructions for an attack.

The six days, however, which elapsed between the appearance of the
French army in front of Marlborough and the arrival of Monsieur
Chamillard in camp, had given Marlborough time so to entrench his
position, that upon reconnoitring it Chamillard, Vendome, Berwick,
and the other generals, were unanimous in their opinion that it was
too strong to be attacked. The great army therefore again retired,
and taking up its post between Brussels and Lille, completely
interrupted the arrival of further convoys or stores to the British
camp.

The siege meantime had been pressed hotly. From the 27th of August
to the 7th of September 120 cannon and eighty mortars thundered
continuously; and on the evening of the 7th two breaches were
effected in the side of the bastions of the outworks that were to
be assaulted.

Fourteen thousand men prepared to storm the outworks. The French
allowed them to get, with but slight resistance, into the covered
way, where a terrific fire was poured upon them. 800 were shot down
in a few minutes, and two mines were exploded under them. The
fighting was desperate; but the assailants managed to retain
possession of two points in the outwork, a success most dearly
purchased with a loss of 2000 killed, and as many wounded.

It was not until the 20th that a fresh attempt to carry the place
by storm was made. At this time Marlborough's position was becoming
critical. The fortress held out bravely. The consumption of
ammunition was so enormous, that his supplies were almost
exhausted, and a great army lay directly upon his line of
communication. It became a matter of necessity that the place
should be taken. Immense efforts were made to secure the success of
the assault. Enormous quantities of fascines were made for filling
up the ditch, and 5000 British troops were sent by Marlborough from
his army to lead the assault.

Rupert Holliday, with many other officers, accompanied this body as
a volunteer. The troops were drawn up as the afternoon grew late,
and just as it became dark they advanced to the assault.

The besieged in the outworks assaulted were supported by the fire
of the cannon and musketry of the ramparts behind, from which, so
soon as the dense masses of the stormers advanced, a stream of
flame issued. So tremendous was the carnage, that three times the
troops recoiled before the storm of balls.

On the fourth occasion Eugene himself led them to the assault, on
either side of him were the Princes of Orange and Hesse, and a
number of officers.

"Remember Hochstadt, Ramilies, and Oudenarde!" the prince shouted;
but scarcely had he spoken when he was struck to the ground by a
bullet, which struck and glanced over the left eye.

Then the troops dashed forward, and forced their way into the
outwork. The French fought with magnificent resolution; and were
from time to time reinforced by parties from the city.

For two hours the fight raged. With bayonets and clubbed muskets,
hand to hand, the troops fought. No one flinched or gave way;
indeed it was safer to be in the front line than behind; for in
front friends and foes were so mixed together, that the French on
the ramparts were unable to fire, but had to direct their aim at
the masses behind.

At last the allies gained ground. Gradually, foot by foot, the
French were thrust back; and Rupert, who had been fighting
desperately in the front line of the stormers' party, directed his
efforts to a part where a French officer still held his ground,
nobly backed by his men. The piled up dead in front of them showed
how strenuous had been the resistance to the advancing wave of the
allies.

Rupert gradually reached the spot, and had no difficulty in placing
himself vis-a-vis to the French officer; for so terrible was his
skill, that others willingly turned aside to attack less dangerous
opponents. In a moment the swords crossed!

The light was a strange one, flickering and yet constant, with the
thousands of firearms, which kept up an unceasing roar. The swords
clashed and ground together, and after a pass or two both men drew
back. A bright flash from a musket not a yard away threw a bright
though momentary light on their faces.

"Monsieur Dessin!" Rupert exclaimed, in delight.

"What! Is it possible?" the Frenchman exclaimed. "Rupert Holliday!"

At the moment there was a tremendous rush of the British. The
French were borne back, and hurled over the edge of the outwork;
and before Rupert could avert the blow, the butt end of a musket
fell with great force upon his late opponent's head.

Rupert leapt forward, and lifting him in his arms, made his way
with him to the rear; for with that last rush the fight was over,
and the allies had established themselves in the left demi-bastion
of the outwork--an important advantage, but one which had cost them
5000 killed and wounded, of whom 3000 belonged to the English
force, whom Marlborough had sent. The fact that more than half of
them were hors-de-combat showed how fiercely they had fought.

Owing to the wound of Prince Eugene, the Duke of Marlborough had to
direct the operations of the siege as well as to command the army
in the field. On the 23rd he followed up the advantage gained on
the 20th, by a fresh attack in two columns, each 5000 strong, and
headed by 500 English troops. After being three times repulsed,
these succeeded in maintaining a lodgment in another outwork;
losing, however, 1000 men in the attack, the greater part being
destroyed by the explosion of a mine.

Both besiegers and besieged were now becoming straitened for
ammunition, for the consumption had been immense. The French
generals succeeded in passing a supply into the fortress in a very
daring manner.

On the night of the 28th, 2500 horsemen set out from Douai, under
the command of the Chevalier de Luxembourg, each having forty
pounds of powder in his valise. They arrived at the gate of the
walls of circumvallation, when the Dutch sentry cried out:

"Who comes there?"

"Open quickly!" the leader answered in the same language; "I am
closely pursued by the French."

The sentry opened the gate, and the horsemen began to pass in.
Eighteen hundred had passed without suspicion being excited, when
one of the officers, seeing that his men were not keeping close up,
gave the command in French:

"Close up! close up!"

The captain of the guard caught the words, and suspecting
something, ordered the party to halt; and then, as they still rode
in, ordered the guard to fire. The discharge set fire to three of
the powder bags, and the explosion spreading from one to another,
sixty men and horses were killed. The portion of the troops still
outside the gate fled, but the 800 who had passed in rode forward
through the allied camp and entered the town in safety, with 70,000
pounds of powder!

Another deed of gallantry, equal to anything ever told in fiction,
was performed by a Captain Dubois of the French army. It was a
matter of the highest importance for the French generals to learn
the exact state of things at Lille. Captain Dubois volunteered to
enter the fortress by water. He accordingly left the French camp,
and swimming through seven canals, entered the Dyle near the place
where it entered the besiegers' lines. He then dived, and aided by
the current, swam under water for an incredibly long distance, so
as entirely to elude the observation of the sentinels. He arrived
in safety in the town, exhausted with his great exertions.

After having had dry clothes put on him, and having taken some
refreshment, he was conducted round the walls by Marshal Boufflers,
who showed him all the defensive works, and explained to him the
whole circumstances of the position. The next night he again set
out by the Dyle, carrying dispatches in an envelope of wax in his
mouth, and after diving as before through the dangerous places, and
running innumerable risks of detection, he arrived in safety in the
French camp.

But it was not the French alone who had run short of ammunition.
Marlborough had also been greatly straitened, and there being now
no possibility of getting through convoys from Brussels, he
persuaded the home government to direct a considerable expedition,
which had been collected for the purpose of exciting an alarm on
the coast of Normandy, and was now on board ship in the Downs, to
be sent to Ostend. It arrived there, to the number of fourteen
battalions and an abundant supply of ammunition, on the 23rd of
September; and Marlborough detached 15,000 men from his army to
protect the convoy on its way up.

On the 27th of September, the convoy started, crossed the canal of
Nieuport at Leffinghen, and directed its course by Slype to defile
through the woods of Wyndendale. General Webb, who commanded the
troops detached for its protection, took post with 8000 men to
defend its passage through the wood, which was the most dangerous
portion of the journey, while Cadogan with the rest of the force
was stationed at Hoglede to cover the march farther on.

Vendome had received information of the march of the column, and
detached Monsieur de la Mathe with 20,000 men to intercept the
convoy. At five in the evening the force approached the wood,
through which the convoy was then filing. Webb posted his men in
the bushes, and when the French--confident in the great superiority
of numbers which they knew that they possessed--advanced boldly,
they were received by such a terrible fire of musketry, poured in
at a distance of a hundred yards, that they fell into confusion.
They, however, rallied, and made desperate efforts to penetrate the
wood, but they were over and over again driven back, and after two
hours' fighting they retired, leaving the convoy to pass on in
safety to the camp.

In this glorious action 8000 English defeated 20,000 French, and
inflicted on them a loss of 4000 killed and wounded. Several fresh
assaults were now made, and gradually the allies won ground, until,
on the eve of the grand assault, Marshal Boufflers surrendered the
town, and retired with the survivors of the defenders into the
citadel, which held out for another month, and then also
surrendered. In this memorable siege, the greatest--with the
exception of that of Sebastopol--that has ever taken place in
history, the allies lost 3632 men killed, 8322 wounded, in all
11,954; and over 7000 from sickness. Of the garrison, originally
15,000 strong, and reinforced by the 1800 horsemen who made their
way through the allied camp, but 4500 remained alive at the time of
the final capitulation.

Marshall Boufflers only surrendered the citadel on the express
order of Louis the 14th not to throw away any more lives of the
brave men under him. At the time of the surrender the last flask of
powder was exhausted, and the garrison had long been living on
horseflesh.

After Lille had fallen, Marlborough, by a feint of going into
winter quarters, threw the French generals off their guard; and
then by a rapid dash through their lines fell upon Ghent and
Bruges, and recaptured those cities before Vendome had time to
collect and bring up his army to save them.

Then ended one of the most remarkable campaigns in the annals of
our own or any other history.

Chapter 24: Adele.

"My dear, dear lad," the Marquis of Pignerolles said, as he made
his way with Rupert back out of the throng in the captured outwork;
"what miracle is this? I heard that you had died at Loches."

"A mistake, as you see," Rupert laughed. "But I shall tell you all
presently. First, how is mademoiselle?"

"Well, I trust," the marquis said; "but I have not heard of her for
eighteen months. I have been a prisoner in the Bastille, and was
only let out two months since, together with some other officers,
in order to take part in the defence of Lille. Even then I should
not have been allowed to volunteer, had it not been that the Duc de
Carolan, Adele's persecutor, was killed; and his Majesty's plans
having been thus necessarily upset, he was for the time being less
anxious to know what had become of Adele."

"In that case you have to thank me for your deliverance," Rupert
said; "for it was I who killed monsieur le duc, and never in my
life did I strike a blow with a heartier goodwill."

"You!" the marquis exclaimed in astonishment; "but I might have
guessed it. I inquired about his death when I reached Lille, and
was told by an officer who was there that he was killed in an
extraordinary combat, in which General Mouffler, a trooper, and
himself were put hors de combat in sight of the whole army, by a
deserter of demoniacal strength, skill, and activity. I ought to
have recognized you at once; and no doubt should have done so, had
I not heard that you were dead. I never was so shocked, dear boy,
in all my life, and have done nothing but blame myself for allowing
you to run so fearful a risk."

On arriving at the camp Rupert presented his prisoner to the Duke
of Marlborough, who having, when Rupert rejoined, heard the story
of his discovery in the Marquis de Pignerolles of his old friend
Monsieur Dessin, received him with great kindness, and told him
that he was free to go where he liked until arrangements could be
made for his exchange. Rupert then took him to his tent, where they
sat for many hours talking.

Rupert learned that after his escape from Lille the marquis was for
three weeks confined to his bed. Before the end of that time a
messenger brought him a letter from Adele, saying that she was well
and comfortable. When he was able to travel he repaired at once to
Versailles; having received a peremptory order from the king, a few
days after Rupert left, to repair to the court the instant he could
be moved. He found his Majesty in the worst of humours; the
disappearance of Adele had thwarted his plan, and Louis the 14th
was not a man accustomed to be baulked in his intentions. The news
of Rupert's escape from Lille had further enraged him, as he
connected it with Adele's disappearance; and the fact that the
capture of Rupert had thrown no light upon Adele's hiding place had
still further exasperated him.

He now demanded that the marquis should inform him instantly of her
place of concealment. This command the marquis had firmly declined
to comply with. He admitted that he could guess where she would
take refuge; but that as he sympathized with her in her objection
to the match which his Majesty had been pleased to make for her, he
must decline to say a word which could lead to her discovery. Upon
leaving the king's presence he was at once arrested, and conveyed
to the Bastille.

Imprisonment in the Bastille, although rigorous, was not, except in
exceptional cases, painful for men of rank. They were well fed and
not uncomfortably lodged; and as the governor had been a personal
friend of the marquis previous to his confinement, he had been
treated with as much lenity as possible. After he had been a year
in prison, the governor came to his room and told him that Rupert
had been drowned by the overflowing of the moat at Loches, and that
if therefore his daughter was, as it was believed, actuated by an
affection for the Englishman in refusing to accept the husband that
the king had chosen for her, it was thought that she might now
become obedient. He was therefore again ordered to name the place
of her concealment.

The marquis replied that he was not aware that his daughter had any
affection for Rupert beyond the regard which an acquaintance of
many years authorized; and that as he was sure the news would in no
way overcome her aversion to the match with the Duc de Carolan, he
must still decline to name the place where he might suspect that
she had hidden herself.

He heard nothing more for some months; and then the governor told
him privately that the duke was dead, and that as it was thought
that Lille would be besieged, two or three other officers in the
Bastille had petitioned for leave to go to aid in the defence. Had
the duke still lived, the governor was sure that any such request
on the part of the marquis would have been refused. As it was,
however, his known military skill and bravery would be so useful in
the defence, that it was possible that the king would now consent.
The marquis had therefore applied for, and had received, permission
to go to aid in the defence of Lille.

Rupert then told his story, which excited the wonder and admiration
of the marquis to the highest point. When he concluded, he said:

"And now, monsieur le marquis, I must say what I have never said
before, because until I travelled with her down to Poitiers I did
not know what my own feelings really were. Then I learned to know
that which I felt was not a mere brotherly affection, but a deep
love. I know that neither in point of fortune nor in rank am I the
equal of mademoiselle; but I love her truly, sir, and the Chace,
which will some day be mine, will at least enable me to maintain
her in comfort.

"Monsieur le marquis, may I ask of you the hand of your daughter?"

"You may indeed, my dear Rupert," the marquis said warmly, taking
his hand. "Even when in England the possibility that this might
some day come about occurred to me; and although then I should have
regretted Adele's marrying an Englishman, yet I saw in your
character the making of a man to whom I could safely entrust her
happiness. When we met again, I found that you had answered my
expectation of you, and I should not have allowed so great an
intimacy to spring up between you had I not been willing that she
should, if she so wished it, marry you.

"I no longer wish her to settle in France. After what I have seen
of your free England, the despotism of our kings and the feudal
power of our nobles disgust me, and I foresee that sooner or later
a terrible upheaval will take place. What Adele herself will say I
do not know, but imagine that she will not be so obstinate in
refusing to yield to the wishes of her father as she has been to
the commands of her king.

"But she will not bring you a fortune, Rupert. If she marries you,
her estates will assuredly be forfeited by the crown. They are so
virtually now, royal receivers having been placed in possession,
but they will be formally declared forfeited on her marriage with
you. However, she will not come to you a dowerless bride. In seven
years I have laid by sufficient to enable me to give her a dowry
which will add a few farms to the Chace.

"And now, Rupert, let us to sleep; day is breaking, and although
your twenty-three years may need no rest, I like a few hours' sleep
when I can get them."

Upon the following day the conversation was renewed.

"I think, Rupert, that my captivity is really a fortunate one for
our plans. So long as I remained in France my every movement would
be watched. I dared not even write to Adele, far less think of
going to see her. Now I am out of sight of the creatures of Louis,
and can do as I please.

"I have been thinking it over. I will cross to England. Thence I
will make my way in a smuggler's craft to Nantes, where the
governor is a friend of mine. From him I will get papers under an
assumed name for my self and daughter, and with them journey to
Poitiers, and so fetch her to England."

"You will let me go with you, will you not?" Rupert exclaimed. "No
one can tell I am not a Frenchman by my speech, and I might be
useful."

"I don't know, Rupert. You might be useful, doubtless, but your
size and strength render you remarkable."

"Well, but there are big Frenchmen as well as big Englishmen,"
Rupert said. "If you travel as a merchant, I might very well go as
your serving man, and you and I together could, I think, carry
mademoiselle in safety through any odds. It will not be long to
wait. I cannot leave until Lille falls, but I am sure the duke will
give me leave as soon as the marshal surrenders the city, which
cannot be very many days now; for it is clear that Vendome will not
fight, and a desperate resistance at the end would be a mere waste
of life."

So it was arranged, and shortly afterwards Rupert took his friend
Major Dillon into his confidence. The latter expressed the wildest
joy, shook Rupert's hand, patted him on the back, and absolutely
shouted in his enthusiasm. Rupert was astonished at the excess of
joy on his friend's part, and was mystified in the extreme when he
wound up:

"You have taken a great load off my mind, Rupert. You have made Pat
Dillon even more eternally indebted to you than he was before."

"What on earth do you mean, Dillon?" Rupert asked. "What is all
this extraordinary delight about? I know I am one of the luckiest
fellows in the world, but why are you so overjoyed because I am in
love?"

"My dear Rupert, now I can tell you all about it. I told you, you
know, that in the two winters you were away I went, at the
invitation of Mynheer van Duyk, to Dort; in order that he might
hear whether there was any news of you, and what I thought of your
chance of being alive, and all that; didn't I?"

"Yes, you told me all that, Dillon; but what on earth has that got
to do with it?"

"Well, my boy, I stopped each time something like a month at Dort,
and, as a matter of course, I fell over head and ears in love with
Maria van Duyk. I never said a word, though I thought she liked me
well enough; but she was for ever talking about you and praising
you, and her father spoke of you as his son; and I made sure it was
all a settled thing between you, and thought what a sly dog you
were never to have breathed a word to me of your good fortune. If
you had never come back I should have tried my luck with her; but
when you turned up again, glad as I was to see you, Rupert, I made
sure that there was an end of any little corner of hope I had had.

"When you told me about your gallivanting about France with a young
lady, I thought for a moment that you might have been in love with
her; but then I told myself that you were as good as married to
Maria van Duyk, and that the other was merely the daughter of your
old friend, to whom you were bound to be civil. Now I know you are
really in love with her, and not with Maria, I will try my luck
there, that is, if she doesn't break her heart and die when she
hears of the French girl."

"Break her heart! Nonsense, man!" Rupert laughed. "She was two
years older than I was, and looked upon me as a younger brother.
Her father lamented that I was not older, but admitted that any
idea of a marriage between us was out of the question. But I don't
know what he will say to your proposal to take her over to
Ireland."

"My proposal to take her over to Ireland!" repeated Dillon, in
astonishment. "I should as soon think of proposing to take her to
the moon! Why, man, I have not an acre of ground in Ireland, nor a
shilling in the world, except my pay. No; if she will have me, I'll
settle down in Dort and turn Dutchman, and wear big breeches, and
take to being a merchant."

Rupert burst into a roar of laughter.

"You a merchant, Pat! Mynheer van Duyk and Dillon! Why, man, you'd
bring the house to ruin in a year. No, no; if Maria will have you,
I shall be delighted; but her fortune will be ample without your
efforts--you who, to my positive knowledge, could never keep your
company's accounts without the aid of your sergeant."

Dillon burst out laughing, too.

"True for you, Rupert. Figures were never in my line, except it is
such a neat figure as Maria has. Ah, Rupert! I always thought you a
nice lad; but how you managed not to fall in love with her, though
she was a year or so older than yourself, beats Pat Dillon
entirely. Now the sooner the campaign is over, and the army goes
into winter quarters, the better I shall be pleased."

It was a dark and squally evening in November, when La Belle
Jeanne, one of the fastest luggers which carried on a contraband
trade between England and France, ran up the river to Nantes. She
had been chased for twelve hours by a British war ship, but had at
last fairly outsailed her pursuers, and had run in without mishap.
On her deck were two passengers; Maitre Antoine Perrot, a merchant,
who had been over to England to open relations with a large house
who dealt in silks and cloths; and his servant Jacques Bontemps,
whose sturdy frame and powerful limbs had created the admiration of
the crew of the Belle Jeanne.

An hour later the lugger was moored against the quay, her crew had
scattered to their homes, and the two travellers were housed in a
quiet cabaret near, where they had called for a private room.

Half an hour later Maitre Perrot left the house, inquired the way
to the governor's residence, left a letter at the door, and then
returned to the cabaret. At nine o'clock a cloaked stranger was
shown into the room. When the door was closed he threw off his hat
and cloak.

"My dear marquis, I am delighted to see you; but what means this
wild freak of yours?"

"I will tell you frankly, de Brissac."

And the Marquis de Pignerolles confided to the Count de Brissac his
plan for getting his daughter away to England.

"It is a matter for the Bastille of his most Christian Majesty,
should he learn that I have aided you in carrying your daughter