returned; he had seen a considerable
detachment of French troops intrenched on a hill at some distance.
Excepting a large ditch, which surrounded the place occupied by the
gendarmes of Aunis, the water had begun to disappear from the plain, the
natural slope of the ground in the immediate neighborhood making the
waters run toward the sea, and several points of earth, higher than the
rest, began to reappear. The slimy mud brought by the rolling waters had
covered the whole country, and it was a sad spectacle to see, as the
wind cleared the mist, a number of cavaliers stuck in the mud, and
trying vainly to reach either of the hills. From the other hill, on
which the flag of France waved, their cries of distress had been heard,
and that was why the trumpets had sounded. The gendarmes now sounded
their cornets, and were answered by guns in joyful recognition. About
eleven o'clock the sun appeared over this scene of desolation, drying
some parts of the plain, and rendering practicable a kind of road.
Henri, who tried it first, found that it led by a detour from where they
were to the opposite hill, and he believed that though his horse might
sink to a certain extent, he would not sink altogether. He therefore
determined to try it, and recommending Diana and Remy to the care of the
ensign, set off on his perilous way. At the same time as he started,
they could see a cavalier leave the opposite hill, and, like Henry, try
the road. All the soldiers seemed trying to stop him by their
supplications. The two men pursued their way courageously, and soon
perceived that their task was less difficult than had been feared. A
small stream of water, escaped from a broken aqueduct, washed over the
path, and little by little was clearing away the mud. The cavaliers were
within two hundred feet of each other.
"France!" cried the one who came from the opposite hill, at the same
time raising his hat, which had a white plume in it.
"Oh! it is you!" cried Henri, with a burst of joy.
"You, Henri! you, my brother!" cried the other.
And they set off as quickly as their horses could manage to go, and
soon, among the frantic acclamations of the spectators on each side,
embraced long and tenderly. Soon, all--gendarmes and light
horse--Huguenots and Catholics--rushed along the road, pioneered by the
two brothers. Soon the two camps were joined, and there, where they had
thought to find death, nearly 3,000 Frenchmen cried, "Thank God!" and
"Vi
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