some one touch his shoulder, and, turning round, saw old
Grandchamp leading a very beautiful gray horse.

"Will Monsieur le Marquis mount a horse of his own?" said he. "I have put
on the saddle and housings of velvet embroidered in gold that remained in
the trench. Alas, when I think that a Spaniard might have taken it, or
even a Frenchman! For just now there are so many people who take all they
find, as if it were their own; and then, as the proverb says, 'What falls
in the ditch is for the soldier.' They might also have taken the four
hundred gold crowns that Monsieur le Marquis, be it said without
reproach, forgot to take out of the holsters. And the pistols! Oh, what
pistols! I bought them in Germany; and here they are as good as ever, and
with their locks perfect. It was quite enough to kill the poor little
black horse, that was born in England as sure as I was at Tours in
Touraine, without also exposing these valuables to pass into the hands of
the enemy."

While making this lamentation, the worthy man finished saddling the gray
horse. The column was long enough filing out to give him time to pay
scrupulous attention to the length of the stirrups and of the bands, all
the while continuing his harangue.

"I beg your pardon, Monsieur, for being somewhat slow about this; but I
sprained my arm slightly in lifting Monsieur de Thou, who himself raised
Monsieur le Marquis during the grand scuffle."

"How camest thou there at all, stupid?" said Cinq-Mars. "That is not thy
business. I told thee to remain in the camp."

"Oh, as to remaining in the camp, that is out of the question. I can't
stay there; when I hear a musket-shot, I should be ill did I not see the
flash. As for my business, that is to take care of your horses, and you
are on them. Monsieur, think you I should not have saved, had I been
able, the life of the poor black horse down there in the trench? Ah, how
I loved him!--a horse that gained three races in his time--a time too
short for those who loved him as I loved him! He never would take his
corn but from his dear Grandchamp; and then he would caress me with his
head. The end of my left ear that he carried away one day--poor
fellow!--proves it, for it was not out of ill-will he bit it off; quite
the contrary. You should have heard how he neighed with rage when any one
else came near him; that was the reason why he broke Jean's leg. Good
creature, I loved him so!

"When he fell I held him on one side