off his hat.

"Monseigneur le Duc d'Anjou!" cried all. "The duke, living!"

"Ma foi, gentlemen," replied he, "since you will recognize your
conquered and fugitive prince, I shall not deny myself to you any
longer. I am the Duc d'Anjou."

"Vive, monseigneur!" cried all.

CHAPTER LXXIII.

PAUL-EMILE.

"Oh! silence, gentlemen," said, the prince, "do not be more content than
I am at my good fortune. I am enchanted not to be dead, you may well
believe; and yet, if you had not recognized me, I should not have been
the first to boast of being alive."

"What! monseigneur," cried Henri, "you recognized me--you found yourself
among a troop of Frenchmen, and would have left us to mourn your loss,
without undeceiving us?"

"Gentlemen, besides a number of reasons which made me wish to preserve
my incognito, I confess that I should not have been sorry, since I was
believed to be dead, to hear what funeral oration would have been
pronounced over me."

"Monseigneur!"

"Yes; I am like Alexander of Macedon; I make war like an artist, and
have as much self-love; and I believe I have committed a fault."

"Monseigneur," said Henri, lowering his eyes, "do not say such things."

"Why not? The pope only is infallible, and ever since Boniface VIII.
that has been disputed."

"See to what you exposed us, monseigneur, if any of us had given his
opinion on this expedition, and it had been blamed."

"Well, why not? do you think I have not blamed myself, not for having
given battle, but for having lost it."

"Monseigneur, this goodness frightens me; and will your highness permit
me to say that this gayety is not natural. I trust your highness is not
suffering."

A terrible cloud passed over the prince's face, making it as black as
night.

"No," said he, "I was never better, thank God, than now, and I am glad
to be among you all."

The officers bowed.

"How many men have you, Du Bouchage?" asked he.

"One hundred, monseigneur."

"Ah! a hundred out of ten thousand; that is like the defeat at Cannes.
Gentlemen, they will send a bushel of your rings to Antwerp, but I doubt
if the Flemish beauties could wear them, unless they had their fingers
pared by their husbands' knives, which, I must say, cut well."

"Monseigneur," replied Henri, "if our battle was like the battle of
Cannes, at least we are more lucky than the Romans, for we have
preserved our Paulus-Emilius!"

"On my life, gentlemen, the Paulus-Emilius of An