twerp was Joyeuse; and
doubtless, to preserve the resemblance with his heroic model to the end,
your brother is dead, is he not, Du Bouchage?"

Henri felt wounded at this cold question.

"No, monseigneur, he lives," replied he.

"Ah! so much the better," said the duke, with his icy smile. "What! our
brave Joyeuse lives! Where is he, that I may embrace him?"

"He is not here, monseigneur."

"Ah! wounded?"

"No, monseigneur, he is safe and sound."

"But a fugitive like me, wandering, famished, and ashamed. Alas! the
proverb is right--'For glory, the sword; after the sword, blood; after
blood, tears.'"

"Monseigneur, I am happy to tell your highness that my brother has been
happy enough to save three thousand men, with whom he occupies a large
village about seven leagues from here, and I am acting as scout for
him."

The duke grew pale.

"Three thousand men! he has saved three thousand men! he is a perfect
Xenophon, and it is very lucky for me that my brother sent him to me. It
is not the Valois who can take for their motto 'Hilariter.'"

"Oh! monseigneur," said Henri, sadly, seeing that this gayety hid a
somber jealousy.

"It is true, is it not, Aurilly?" continued the duke; "I return to
France like Francois after the battle of Pavia; all is lost but honor.
Ah! ah!"

A sad silence received these laughs, more terrible than sobs.

"Monseigneur," said Henri, "tell me how the tutelary genius of France
saved your highness."

"Oh! dear comte, the tutelary genius of France was occupied with
something else, and I had to save myself."

"And how, monseigneur?"

"By my legs."

No smile welcomed this joke, which the duke would certainly have
punished with death if made by another.

"Yes, yes," he continued; "how we ran! did we not, my brave Aurilly?"

"Every one," said Henri, "knows the calm bravery and military genius of
your highness, and we beg you not to distress us by attributing to
yourself faults which you have not. The best general is not invincible,
and Hannibal himself was conquered at Zama."

"Yes, but Hannibal had won the battles of Trebia, Thrasymene, and
Cannes, while I have only won that of Cateau-Cambresis; it is not enough
to sustain the comparison."

"But monseigneur jests when he says he ran away."

"No, I do not. Pardieu! do you see anything to jest about, Du Bouchage?"

"Could any one have done otherwise?" said Aurilly.

"Hold your tongue, Aurilly, or ask the shade of St. Aignan