hour or a little more when an officer brought
word that Marshal Turenne desired to see M. Beauchamp immediately.

"Stay where you are, Albert, and make yourself comfortable," he
exclaimed. "It is an order for some piece of special service perhaps;
the Marshal is always planning a fresh surprise."

Left alone, I began wondering more than ever at the remarkable change
which had come over him. He was as keen as ever to perform his duties,
but the quick, bright smile, the joyous laugh, the old boyish merriment
had vanished.

"He is weak from his wounds," I thought; "he should have stayed longer
at Gien, and let Pillot nurse him. Perhaps he will throw off this
gloomy air as he gets stronger."

At the end of half-an-hour he returned, and I concluded by his manner
that the Marshal had entrusted him with some important business.

"Another expedition," I said, springing up. "Take care, Raoul, the
pitcher may go to the well once too often."

"It matters little, dear friend, but at present there is no need for
alarm. Do you know what was in that packet from the Cardinal? Conde
has won over the Duke of Lorraine, who is marching on Paris with a
large army. Turenne intends to break up his camp and attack the Duke."

"That will be awkward; we shall be placed between two fires."

"Trust to Turenne; he understands his business. A few troops will stay
here for a day or two. Meanwhile, we march light; we shall strike our
blow at Lorraine, and then the rest of our army will rejoin us."

"Leaving Conde's troops to slip out of Etampes!"

"So much the better; they will be compelled to fight in the open."

"Are you riding with the Marshal?"

"In front of him. He has selected my squadron to scour the country in
advance. It will be a change from camp life. Now, I must go; we shall
meet again soon."

"I hope so!"

"It is certain," he answered calmly, "the stars have foretold it."

I looked at him in surprise, and said, "You were not used to put your
faith in the stars, Raoul!"

"No," he answered, dreamily, "but I have learned much of late. Do you
remember the open space before the Porte St. Antoine? It is there we
shall meet. I hear the roar of cannon, the rattle of muskets, the
hoof-beats of horses, the fierce shouts of struggling men. I see----
Ah well, dear friend, it is not long to wait!"

I tried to detain him, to make him speak more plainly, but he would say
nothing further, and, leaving the tent, we wal