ked in silence to the
lines farthest from Etampes. Raoul's horsemen were already there, and
presently Turenne himself, attended by two officers, rode up. In a few
stirring words he addressed the troopers, bidding them justify his
choice, and speaking in high terms of their young leader. Then he gave
Raoul his final instructions, and my friend pressed my hand in a last
grasp.

"_Au revoir!_" said he quietly. "Remember the Porte St. Antoine!"

I stood for a while watching the weird scene as the troopers filed off
silently, and in perfect order. Raoul, who had placed himself at their
head, was soon out of sight, but I could not banish his strange words
from my mind.

"Remember the Porte St. Antoine!" What did he mean? Why had he
mentioned that particular spot as the scene of our meeting? What was
the strange vision at which he had hinted? Alas! I understood later,
but even to this day the manner of his foreknowledge remains a mystery.

"Is that M. de Lalande?"

Starting from my dream, I found it was Marshal Turenne who addressed
me, and saluting, I answered his question.

"Come to me at daybreak," he said; "I wish to send a letter by you to
Cardinal Mazarin," and he galloped off, the two officers following.

Returning to Raoul's tent--for the troopers had left every thing
standing--I lay down, and tried, though unsuccessfully, to sleep. My
comrade's mysterious speech haunted me; I could make nothing of it, and
it was with a feeling of relief that I saw the day open. Having
groomed and fed my horse, I went to the Marshal's tent. The famous
soldier had the note written, but he made me stay while his servant
prepared a simple breakfast, to which we both sat down. Then, sending
a man for my horse, he wished me a safe journey, and I rode from the
camp as the troops began to stir.

Pillot was waiting for me at Etampes, and I questioned him closely
concerning Raoul.

"It is true that M. Beauchamp has changed much," said he; "I noticed it
at Gien."

"Was there any reason for it?"

"Ah, monsieur, it is hard to tell. For a week after you left Gien, M.
Beauchamp was bright and cheerful as usual, and planning great things
for you and himself. Then, one evening, on going to his room, I found
him lying down, fully dressed. He seemed to be asleep."

"Seemed to be?" I interrupted crossly, "could you not make sure?"

"He did not hear me, monsieur, and he did not answer when I spoke, but
his eyes were open