s either offensive or
defensive.

"This is truly a singular man," said Monk; "he is without any arms; he
has an ambuscade placed somewhere yonder."

"General," said he, as if he had divined Monk's thought, "you wish we
should be alone; that is very right, but a great captain ought never to
expose himself with temerity. It is night, the passage of the marsh may
present dangers; be accompanied."

"You are right," replied he, calling Digby. The aid-de-camp appeared.
"Fifty men with swords and muskets," said he, looking at Athos.

"That is too few if there is danger, too many if there is not."

"I will go alone," said Monk; "I want nobody. Come, monsieur."

CHAPTER 25. The March

Athos and Monk passed over, in going from the camp towards the Tweed,
that part of the ground which Digby had traversed with the fishermen
coming from the Tweed to the camp. The aspect of this place, the aspect
of the changes man had wrought in it, was of a nature to produce a great
effect upon a lively and delicate imagination like that of Athos. Athos
looked at nothing but these desolate spots; Monk looked at nothing but
Athos--at Athos, who, with his eyes sometimes directed towards heaven,
and sometimes towards the earth, sought, thought, and sighed.

Digby, whom the last orders of the general, and particularly the accent
with which he had given them, had at first a little excited, followed
the pair at about twenty paces, but the general having turned round as
if astonished to find his orders had not been obeyed, the aid-de-camp
perceived his indiscretion and returned to his tent.

He supposed that the general wished to make, incognito, one of those
reviews of vigilance which every experienced captain never fails to
make on the eve of a decisive engagement: he explained to himself the
presence of Athos in this case as an inferior explains all that is
mysterious on the part of his leader. Athos might be, and, indeed, in
the eyes of Digby, must be, a spy, whose information was to enlighten
the general.

At the end of a walk of about ten minutes among the tents and posts,
which were closer together near the headquarters, Monk entered upon a
little causeway which diverged into three branches. That on the left led
to the river, that in the middle to Newcastle Abbey on the marsh, that
on the right crossed the first lines of Monk's camp, that is to say, the
lines nearest to Lambert's army. Beyond the river was an advanced post
bel