Welcome to danger's hour,

Brief greeting serves the time of strife.--SCOTT

As soon as it was possible to leave Nissard, Berenger was on his

way back to head-quarters, where he hoped to meet the Duke de

Quinet among the many Huguenot gentlemen who were flocking to the

Bourbon standard; nor was he disappointed in the hope, for he was

presented to a handsome middle-aged gentleman, who told him, with

much politeness, that his mother had had the honour to receive and

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entertain Mme. de Ribaumont and that some months ago he had himself

arranged for the conveyance of her letters to England, but, he

said, with a smile, he made a point of knowing nothing of his

mother's guests, lest his duties as a governor might clash with

those of hospitality. He offered to expedite M. de Ribaumont's

journey to Quinet, observing that, if Nid de Merle were, indeed, on

the point of seizing the lady, it must be by treachery; indeed he

had, not ten days back, had the satisfaction of hanging an Italian

mountebank who had last year stolen a whole packet of dispatches,

among them letters from Mme. de Ribaumont, and the fellow was

probably acting as a spy upon her, so that no time was to be lost

in learning from his mother where she was. On the next morning he

was about to send forward twenty men to reinforce a little frontier

garrison on the river Dronne, and as M. le Baron must pass through

the place, it would be conferring a favour on him to take the

command. The men were all well mounted, and would not delay; and

when once across the frontier of Guyenne, no escort would be

needed.

Berenger gladly accepted the proposal. It did not occur to him

that he was thus involved in the civil war, and bearing arms

against the sovereign. In spite of Queen Elisabeth's alliance with

the French court, she connived at her youthful subjects seeking the

bubble reputation in the mouths of Valois cannon; and so little did

Henry III. seem to Berenger to be his king, that he never thought

of the question of allegiance,--nay, if the royal officers were

truly concerned in his arrest, he was already an outlaw. This was

no moment for decision between Catholic and Calvinist; all he

wanted was to recover his wife and forestall her enemies.

Henry of Navarre gave his full consent to the detachment being

placed under charge of M. de Ribaumont. He asked somewhat

significantly what had become of the young gentleman who had

attended M. de Ribaumont, and Philip blushed crimson to the ears,

while Berenger replied, with greater coolness than he had given

himself credit for, that the youth had been nearly drowned on the

Sable d'Olonne, and had been left at Dom Colombeau's to recover.

The sharp-witted King looked for a moment rather as Sir Hugh the

Heron did when Marmion accounted for his page's absence, but was

far too courteous and too INSOUCIANT to press the matter further,

though Berenger saw quite enough of is expression to feel that he

had been delivered from his companion only just in time.

Berenger set forth as soon as his impatience could prevail to get

the men into their saddles. He would fain have ridden day and

night, and grudged every halt for refreshment, so as almost to run

the risk of making the men mutinous. Evening was coming on, and

his troop had dismounted at a cabaret, in front of which he paced

up and down with Philip, trying to devise some pretext for

hastening them on another stage before night, when a weary, travel-

stained trooper rode up to the door and was at once hailed as a

comrade by the other men, and asked, 'What cheer at Pont de

Dronne?'

'Bad enough,' he answered, 'unless you can make the more speed

there!' then making obeisance to Berenger he continued his report,

saying that Captain Falconnet was sending him to M. le Duc with

information that the Guisards were astir, and that five hundred

gens d'armes, under the black Nid de Merle, as it was said, were

on their way intending to surprise Pont de Dronne, and thus cut the

King of Navarre off from Guyenne and his kingdom beyond it. After

this Berenger had no more difficulty with his men, who were most of

them Quinet vassals, with homes south of the Dronne, and the

messenger only halted for a hasty meal, hastening on to the Duke,

that a more considerable succour might at once be dispatched.

'Is she there whom they call the Lady of Hope?' asked one of the

soldiers, a mercenary, less interested than most of his comrades,

as he had only a fortnight since transferred his services from

Guise to Quinet

'Our Lady of Sadness just now,' replied the messenger; 'her old

father is at the point of death. However, she is there, and at our

last siege twenty wine-skins would not so well have kept up men's

hearts.'

'And the little one, the white fairy, is she there too? They say

'tis a spirit, a changeling that could not brook the inside of a

church, but flew out of the Moustier at Montauban like a white

swan, in the middle of a sermon.'

'I only know I've seen her sleep like a dormouse through prayers,

sermon, and all at Pont de Dronne. Follette is she be, she

belongs to the white elves of the moonlight.'

'Well, they say bullets won't touch her, and no place can be taken

where she is,' replied the trooper. 'Nay, that Italian pedlar

rogue, the same that the Duke has since hung, has sold to long

Gilles and snub-nosed Pierre silver bullets, wherewith they have

sworn to shoot the one or the other next time they had a chance.'

These words were spoken at not great distance from Berenger, but

passed by him as mere men-at-arms' gossip, in his eagerness to

expedite the start of his party; and in less than an hour they were

en route for Pont de Dronne; but hasten as he would, it was not

till near noon the next day that he came in sight of a valley,

through which wound a river, crossed by a high-backed bridge, with

a tall pointed arch in the middle, and a very small one on either

side. An old building of red stone, looking like what it was--a

monastery converted into a fortress--stood on the nearer, or

northern bank, and on the belfry tower waved a flag with the arms

of Quinet. Higher up the valley, there was an ominous hum, and

clouds of smoke and dust; and the gen d'armes, who knew the

country, rejoiced that they were come just in time, and exchanged

anxious questions whether the enemy were not fording the river

above them, so as to attack not only the fortress on this northern

side, but the bridge tower on the southern bank of the river.

Spurring down the hill, the party were admitted, at the well-

guarded gateway, into a large thickly-walled yard, where the

soldiers and horses remained, and Berenger and Philip, passing

through a small arched doorway into the body of the old monastery,

were conducted to a great wainscoted hall, where a pulpit

projecting from the wall, and some defaced emblematic ornaments,

showed that this had once been the refectory, though guard-room

appliances now occupied it. The man who had shown them in left

them, saying he would acquaint Captain Falconnet with their

arrival, and just then a sound of singing drew both brothers to the

window. It looked out on what had once been the quadrangle,

bounded on three sides by the church, the refectory, and the monk's

lodgings, the cloistered arcade running round all these. The

fourth side was skirted by the river, which was, however, concealed

by an embankment, raised, no doubt, to supply the place of the

wall, which had been unnecessary to the peaceful original

inhabitants. What attracted Berenger's eyes was, however, a group

in the cloister, consisting of a few drooping figures, some of men

in steel caps, others of veiled, shrouded women, and strange,

mingled feelings swept over him as he caught the notes of the psalm

sung over the open grave--

'Si qu'en paix et seurte bonne

Coucherai et reposerai--

Car, Seigneur, ta bonte tout ordonne

Et elle seule espoir donne

Que seur et sain regnant serai.'

'Listen, Philip,' he said, with moistening eyes; then as they

ended, 'It is the 4th Psalm: "I lay me down in peace and take my

rest." Eustacie and I used to sing it to my father. It was well

done in these mourners to sing it over him whom they are laying

down to take his rest while the enemy are at the gates. See, the

poor wife still kneels while the rest disperse; how dejected and

utterly desolate she looks.'

He was so intently watching her as not to perceive the entrance of

a tall, grizzled old man in a steel cap, evidently the commander of

the garrison. There was the brief welcome of danger's hour--the

briefer, because Captain Falconnet was extremely deaf, and, taking

it for granted that the new-comers were gentlemen of the Duke's,

proceeded to appoint them their posts without further question.

Berenger had intended to pursue his journey to Quinet without

delay, but the intelligence that the enemy were on the southern as

well as the northern side of the river rendered this impossible;

and besides, in defending this key of Guyenne against Narcisse, he

was also defending Eustacie.

The state of affairs was soon made known to him. The old

monastery, covering with its walls an extensive space, formed a

fortress quite strong enough to resist desultory attacks, and

protect the long bridge, which was itself strongly walled on either

side, and with a barbican at the further end. In former assaults

the attacks had always been on the north, the Catholic side, as it

might be called; but now the enemy had crossed the river above the

fort, and were investing the place on both sides. Long foreseeing

this, the old commandant had guarded the bank of the river with the

earthwork, a long mound sloped irregularly on either hand, over

which numerous little paths had since been worn by the women

within, when on their way to the river with their washing; but he

had been setting every one to work to destroy and fill up these, so

that the rampart was smooth and slopping, perfectly easy indeed to

cross, but high and broad enough to serve as an effectual

protection against such artillery as the detached troops of the

Guise party were likely to possess; and the river was far too wide,

deep, and strong in its main current to be forded in the face of a

hostile garrison. The captain had about fifty gen d'armes in his

garrison, besides the twenty new-comers whom he persisted in

regarding as Berenger's charge; and there were, besides, some

seventy peasants and silk spinners, who had come into the place as

a refuge from the enemy--and with these he hoped to hold put till

succour should come from the Duke. He himself took the command of

the north gate, where the former assaults had been made, and he

instructed to his new ally the tower protecting the bridge,

advising him to put on armour; but Berenger, trying on a steel cap,

found that his head could not bear the weight and heat, and was

forced to return to his broad-brimmed Spanish hat, while Philip in

high glee armed himself as best he could with what Captain

Falconnet could lend him. he was too much excited to eat of the

scanty meal that was set before them: a real flight seemed like a

fair-day to him, and he was greatly exalted by his brother's post

of command--a post that Berenger felt a heavy responsibility only

thrust upon him by the commandant's incapacity of hearing how

utterly inexperienced he was.

The formal summons to surrender to the King, and the refusal, had

duly passed, and it became evident that the first attack was to be

on the bridge-gate. Captain Falconnet hurried to the place, and

the fighting was hot and desperate. Every assailant who tried to

throw his fagot into the moat became a mark for arquebus or pistol,

and the weapons that had so lately hung over the hearth at Nid de

Merle were now aimed again and again at the heads and corslets of

Guisards, with something of the same exulting excitement as, only

higher, more engrossing, and fiercer than, that with which the lads

had taken aim at a wolf, or ridden after a fox. Scaling-ladders

were planted and hurled down again; stones were cast from the

battlements, crushing the enemy; and throughout Berenger's quick

eye, alert movements, and great height and strength, made him a

most valuable champion, often applauded by a low murmur of

commendation from old Falconnet, or a loud shout of 'Ha, well done,

the Duke's Englishman,' from the gen d'armes--for English they

would have him to be--on the presumptions afforded by his

companions, his complexion, and his slow speech. Nor did Philip

and Humfrey fail to render good service. But just as the enemy had

been foiled in a sharp assault and were dragging away their

wounded, Philip touched his brother, and saying, 'I can hold out no

longer,' showed blood trickling down his right side.

Berenger threw an arm round him, and Captain Falconnet, seeing his

case, said, 'You are hit, petit Anglais; you have done gallantly.

There will be time for you to take him to his quarters, sir; these

fellows have had enough for the present, and you can tarry with him

till you hear the bugle. Whither, did you ask? Let me see. You,

Renaud, take him to the chapel: the old chancel behind the boarding

will be more private; and desire Madame to look to him. Farewell!

I hope it may prove slight; you are a brave youth.' And he shook

hands with Philip, whose intense gratification sustained him for

many steps afterwards

He hardly remembered receiving the hurt, and was at first too busy

to heed it, or to call off any one attention, until a dread of

falling, and being trodden on, had seized him and made him speak;

and indeed he was so dizzy that Berenger with difficulty kept him

on his feet over the bridge, and in the court lifted him in his

arms and carried him almost fainting into the cloister, where by

the new-made grave still knelt the black-veiled mourner. She

started to her feet as the soldier spoke to her, and seemed at

first not to gather the sense of his words; but then, as if with an

effort, took them in, made one slight sound like a moan of

remonstrance at the mention of the place, but again recollecting

herself, led the way along a stone passage, into which a flight of

stairs descended into the apsidal chancel, roughly boarded off from

the rest of the church. It was a ruinous, desolate place, and

Berenger looked round in dismay for some place on which to lay down

his almost unconscious burthen. The lady bent her head and signed

towards the stone sedilia in the wall; then, after two ineffectual

essays to make her voice audible, choked as it was with long

weeping, she said, low and huskily, 'We will make him more

comfortable soon;' and added some orders to the soldier, who

disappeared up the stairway, and Berenger understood that he was

gone to fetch bedding. Then taking from under her heavy mourning

cloak a large pair of scissors, she signed to Berenger how to

support his brother, while they relieved him of his corslet, sword-

belt, and doublet. The soldier had meantime returned with an old

woman, both loaded with bedding, which she signed to them to

arrange in one of the little bays or niches that served to form a

crown of lesser chapels around the chancel. She flung aside her

muffling cloak, but her black hood still hung far over her face,

and every now and then hand or handkerchief was lifted as if to

clear her eyes from the tears that would not cease to gather and

blind her; and she merely spoke when some direction to an

assistant, some sympathetic word to the patient, was needed. Even

Philip in his dizzy trance guessed that he was succeeding to the

bed whence one much dearer had gone to his quieter rest in the

cloister. Before he was laid there, however, the bugle sounded;

there was a loud shout, and Philip exclaimed, 'Go, brother!'

'Trust him to me, sir,' said the sunken, extinguished voice; 'we

will do our best for him.'

He was forced merely to lift Philip to the bed, and to hurry away,

while the soldier followed him saying, consolingly, 'Fear not, sir,

now our Lady of Hope has him. Nothing goes ill to which she sets

her hand.'

Another growl of artillery was not heard, and it was time for the

warriors to forget the wounded in the exigencies of the present.

An attack was made on both gates at once, and the commandant being

engaged at his own post, Berenger had to make the utmost of his

brief experience, backed by the counsel of a tough old sergeant;

and great was his sense of exhilaration, and absolute enjoyment in

this full and worthy taxing of every power of mind or body. The

cry among the enemy, 'Aime at the black plume,' attested his

prominence; but he black plum was still unscathed when spring

twilight fell. The din began to subside; recalls were sounded by

the besiegers; and Berenger heard his own exploit bawled in the ear

of the deaf commandant, who was advancing over the bridge. The old

captain complimented him, told him that he should be well reported

of to M. le Duc and Sieur la Noue, and invited him to supper and

bed in his own quarters. The supper Berenger accepted, so soon as

he should know how it was with his brother; but as to bed, he

intended to watch his brother, and visit his post form time to

time.

The captain entered by the main door of the chapel, where ten or

twelve wounded were now lying, tended by peasant women. Berenger

merely passed through, seeing as he went the black hood busy over a

freshly-brought-in-patient. He found a door which admitted him

through the rough screen of boards to the choir where he had been

in the earlier part of the day. The moonlight came through the

shivered eastern windows, but a canvas curtain had been hung so as

to shelter Philip's vaulted recess from the cold draught, and the

bed itself, with a chair beside it, looked neat, clean, and

comfortable. Philip himself was cheery; he said the bullet had made

a mere flesh-wound, and had passed out on the other side, and the

Lady of Hope, as they called he, was just such another as Aunt

Cecily, and had made him very comfortable, with clean linen, good

cool drinks, and the tenderest hand. But he was very sleepy, so

sleepy that he hardly cared to hear of the combat, only he roused

himself for a moment to say, 'Brother, I have seen Dolly.'

'Dolly!'

'Our sister Dolly.'

'Ah, Phil! many a strange visitor has come to me in the Walnut

Chamber at home.'

'I tell you I was in my perfect senses,' returned Philip; 'there

she was, just as when we left her. And, what was stranger still,

she talked French.'

'Sleep and see her again,' laughed Berenger.




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