s, whom they loved for his bravery and respected for
his birth, they took the road to Brussels.

Like all the actors in this terrible scene, they saw the progress of the
inundation, and were pursued by the furious waters; but by good luck
found in this spot a position strong both against men and water. The
inhabitants, knowing themselves in safety, had not quitted their homes,
and had only sent off their women, children, and old men to Brussels;
therefore the gendarmes met with resistance when they arrived; but death
howled behind them, and they attacked like desperate men, triumphed over
all obstacles, lost ten men, but established the others, and turned out
the Flemings.

Such was the recital which Henri received from them.

"And the rest of the army?" asked he.

"Look," replied the ensign; "the corpses which pass each moment answer
your question."

"But--my brother," said Henri, in a choking voice.

"Alas! M. le Comte, we do not know. He fought like a lion, but he
survived the battle; as to the inundation I cannot say."

Henri shook his head sadly; then, after a minute's pause, said, "And the
duke?"

"Comte, the duke fled one of the first. He was mounted on a white horse,
with no spot but a black star on the forehead. Well, just now we saw the
horse pass among a mass of wrecks, the foot of a rider was caught in the
stirrup and was floating on the water."

"Great God!"

"Good heavens!" echoed Remy, who had drawn near and heard the tale.

"One of my men ventured down into the water and seized the reins of the
floating horse, and drew it up sufficiently to enable us to see the
white boot and gold spur that the duke wore. But the waters were rushing
past, and the man was forced to let go to save himself, and we saw no
more. We shall not even have the consolation of giving a Christian
burial to our prince."

"Dead! he also? the heir to the crown! What a misfortune!"

Remy turned to his mistress, and with an expression impossible to
describe, said,

"He is dead, madame, you see."

"I praise the Lord, who has spared us a crime," said she, raising her
eyes to heaven.

"Yes, but it prevents our vengeance."

"Vengeance only belongs to a man when God forgets."

"But you, yourself, comte," said the ensign to Henri, "what are you
about to do?"

The comte started. "I?" said he.

"Yes."

"I will wait here till my brother's body passes," replied he, gloomily,
"then I will try to draw him to land. You may