ers
fell in joyously behind him.

"For the King! gentlemen," cried he. "For the King!" we echoed
loyally, and the royal boy, with flushed cheeks and gleaming eyes, came
in person to bid us farewell.

"I thank you, gentlemen, all," said he, and there was a curious catch
in his voice. "I would I were riding in your ranks, but while the King
has such loyal servants France need fear no rebels. I wish you
success, gentlemen, you and your gallant leader."

At this, waving our plumed hats high, we cheered again and swept
forward with a rush. From the Faubourg St. Denis came the sounds of
musketry, of wild battle shouts, and cries of triumph and despair.

"Forward!" cried Turenne. "Forward!"

Riding with loose reins we spurred hard to the scene of conflict, just
in time to see the backs of Conde's rearguard. The gallant fellows had
fought stubbornly, contesting every foot of ground, and sacrificing
themselves in order to delay our advance. Now, however, they were in
retreat, and Turenne, leaving his victorious infantry to re-form,
collected his horsemen and pressed on in pursuit.

Among the foremost rode my old comrade, and my heart beat fast at sight
of him. His head was bare, his long fair curls fell about his
shoulders, his cheeks were flushed, his eyes fiercely bright. I had
never seen him in such a state of intense excitement. As I joined him
he greeted me with a forced smile, but there was no time for speech.
Side by side we dashed through the streets into the Faubourg St.
Martin. Here several squadrons of Conde's cavalry barred our way, but
Raoul halted not.

"For the King!" he cried, waving his sword. "For the King!" as we
leaped at the horsemen, while our comrades, answering with a lusty
shout, galloped madly behind us.

Crash! We were in the midst of the throng, cutting, thrusting,
parrying, pressing the rebels back slowly. They fought well, as became
Frenchmen, but we were too many, and at last they broke.

"Forward!" cried Raoul, who was still in front, but Turenne called us
back.

"Softly, softly," exclaimed our leader; "a few hundred horsemen cannot
defeat an army in position. We must go slowly for a while. The enemy
are entrenched behind barricades in the Faubourg St. Antoine."

Raoul looked at me meaningly, and I became unnerved by the odd
coincidence. Was it chance or fate?

"Together till the end," he whispered. "Do not grieve for me, dear
friend, it is written in the stars, a