Slowly and wearily did the moments creep
along. The excitement, which had nerved the
lovely girl to such almost unnatural courage, had,
with the cause that called it forth, departed. She
had sunk down upon the couch, sobbing like one
whose heart was already broken; and I, I gazed
upon her in mute, icy, speechless despair! The
revulsion from the summit of hope and joy to the
depths of misery had been too sudden, not to be
felt overpoweringly by a spirit which, though self-disciplined,
was yet so excitable, and fraught with
passions sensitive and violent, as my own. I
thought the messenger would never have returned;
yet was it but a scant half-hour before the veteran
D'Erlach stood before me. He gazed about him

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as he entered in evident surprise, which, as I spoke,
gave way to fiercer feelings.

“To you, sir,” I said, “as to one whom I deem
honest and honourable, whether as a friend or foe,
I have a request to offer. I am arrested, by the
warrant of the Comte D'Harcourt, arrested as a
traitor, murderer, and—”

“Ten thousand devils! that shall never be,”
cried the choleric old Bernois; “never! while there
be a Switzer in the camp can wield a halberd!”

“Ay, but it shall,” I interrupted him, coolly
enough, though not, in truth, unmoved by this sudden
and unexpected sympathy—“ay, but it shall,
and must! Guiltless I am, and guiltless will I be
proved, before my peers! But here is the pinch of
this matter. This lady—my most unhappy bride—
hath for her unworthy cousin that dog De Chateaufort!—
would God I had but stricken one good
blow, this morning, when I held him by the lying
throat!—For love of her estates, hath he persecuted
her as man nor devil ever persecuted woman!
For love of her estates, hath he torn her
from the arms of me, her lawful husband, and immured
her in a dungeon! For love of her estates,
thrice hath he sought my life by the assassin's
weapon; and now would seek it, murderously as
before, by the perverted sword of justice! 'Twas

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but this day I rescued her. Now, D'Erlach, for
her—for her—I shame not to confess it—I am a
COWARD! But swear to me that thou wilt shield
her to the death! Swear to me by your own and
country's honour—by the God of your fathers, and
your hopes of life hereafter—swear that you will
place her, as soon as may be, under the protection
of the great Condé,—swear this, and—I fear
nothing!”

“That shall I do,” he answered—“that shall I
do, by God!”

“Isabel,” I cried, in tones which I struggled
hard to render calm—“Isabel, I commit you to
the charge of this true gentleman,—to the protection
of Him who only can protect. Farewell!
D'Erlach, to you I give my sword; keep it, as you
would keep your honour, bright and untarnished.
Farewell, and remember!”

The provost-marshal passed his arm through
my own, his men fell into close array before us
and in our rear, and we proceeded swiftly through
the moonlight camp towards the pavilion of the
maréchal.

“This is a painful duty, sir,” said D'Harcourt,
as I was brought before him, with an affectation
of candour and sympathy, although a sneer of
self-satisfied resentment played over his saturnine

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features. “The prisoner whom you sent in this
morning hath brought such charges against you—
such clear charges—that, by my soul, it is my
duty to hold you in security to answer them!”

“At your will, sir!” I answered. “To you shall
I make no defence, knowing you my enemy! Thus
much, however: this prisoner, whose word you
dare—ay, dare, sir—dare I said—and when my
arms shall be unfettered by the verdict of my peers,
you shall right strictly answer for this daring!—
this prisoner is an attainted traitor!—this prisoner
is, by the laws of war, amenable to instant penalty,
as the defender of a position grossly untenable;
and further as the attempted murderer of a herald!
Five hundred eyes beheld me fall, this very day of
Jesus, beneath his shot, a flag of truce in my hands,
and a friendly summons on my lips! Look to it,
count, how you shall answer for your present actions
to the prince, hereafter!”

“Best think of your own defence, sir,” was his
reply; “for, by my soul, I deem it will go hardly
with you else!”

“You dare not,” I answered, “hold me to trial
here: the charges are not such as fall within the
jurisdiction of a court-martial; and if they were,
you have no peers of mine, whereof to call one! I
claim to be sent into Paris, with the dawn, to make

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befitting answer to mine equals; and, it may be,
to call you to a heavy reckoning!”

“In this respect, sir, I shall pleasure you,” he
again sneeringly replied; “retaining the lady—”

He was interrupted by the sudden entrance of
an officer, pale and terrified, with his sword drawn,
and garments much disordered.

“My lord, there is a movement in the camp—
the Switzers have rushed to their weapons, and are
in fierce rebellion; the cavalry, too, with all their
officers, are getting under arms—we fear violence!”

“Fear, sir!” shouted D'Harcourt—“fear is no
word for men—much less for officers!—if the Swiss
dogs rebel, we will right shortly send them howling
to their kennels! Beat the alarm!—sound
trumpets!—let the troops of Weimar get into their
array! Look to the prisoner, provost-marshal!”

The trumpets sounded to arms, and were answered,
throughout every quarter of the camp, by
the heavy tramp of disciplined men, the clash of
weapons, and the shouts of officers and orderlies.
But over all, and through all, rang the hoarse roar
of the Switzers, “Unterwald and Uri!” and ever
and anon the bugles of the cavalry, pealing in their
wild symphonies, were mingled with the cheery
shout of, “France—Mornington for France and

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Condé!” Before the troops of Weimar could be
assembled—and half of them were averse to action—
the Switzers, in spite of D'Erlach, had seized
the magazines, imprisoned the officers, and turned
the ordnance from the breastworks upon the quarters
of the maréchal. In ten minutes' space the
same officer rushed in, accompanied by a dozen
others, all dismayed, and evidently hopeless of resistance.

“How now, sirs! are the men of Weimar ready?
Let them advance, and, if it needs be, fire; justice
shall hold her own!”

“They are not ready, sir; nor will they stir a
foot, much less discharge an arquebuse, in this same
matter. Your own body-guard are alone faithful!”

“Then let them fire on the mutineers!”

“'Twere madness, sir, rank madness! They
number scarce five hundred, and the mutineers as
many thousands!”

“Do you dispute my will, sir? Before God! an
you do not my bidding, you shall first share the
punishment of mutiny! Away, sir, to your duty!”

But it was in vain; for the next instant the red
glare of a thousand torches gleamed through the
canvass walls; and the hoarse cries of the mutineers
came close and terrible. I saw it was the

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moment to interpose—I stepped a pace forward,
and with a steady eye addressed my enemy:—

“The time is come,” I said, “when I might triumph,
were I what you have dared to name me!
But I at least will fill the duties of a soldier and a
man! Let me go forth, and speak with these unruly
men; and, by mine honour, the mutiny shall
cease!”

“So deal not I with traitors—sooner will I die!”

“Death! Death!” shouted the mutineers without—
“Death! or De Mornington!” and the remnant
of D'Harcourt's guard was actually driven
into the presence of its commander—disarmed,
and utterly defeated.

“Slay me this ringleader!” shouted the count,
maddened by obstinacy, and rendered desperate by
his defeat—“Up with him to the tent-poles; let his
followers see the meed they have brought on their
general!” The terrified guards of the provost in vain
remonstrated—the field-officers protested—and at
length positively refused obedience. In the next
moment the canvass of the pavilion was rent into
a thousand pieces; the tent-poles broken; the cords
severed by the sword and halberd! We stood—
prisoner and judge—accuser and accused—in the
centre of a circle of twice two thousand men,
desperate and successful mutineers! D'Harcourt

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unsheathed his rapier—had one blow been stricken
every officer must have perished. With a light
spring I vaulted on the table, which fortunately had
not been overset in the confusion.

“Hear me,” I cried, in high, clear notes; “hear
me, ye cavaliers of France, and ye free Switzers!
You have mistaken, not yourselves, but me—
me, whom you would thus rescue! Think you so
basely of me, then, my fellow-soldiers—think you
so basely of the man who has already led you—
led you—I will say the words—to glory,—as that
he could shrink from justice! There is no safety
to the innocent, but in the law; and in the law put I
my trust! But I speak not to men of reason—nor
plead I to my equals! Soldiers! I do command
you—`ground your arms!'—Down with those rebel
pikes! Now, let me see the slave that dares to
disobey me!”

From the moment in which I first spoke to them
there had been a dead silence—a breathless pause.
I was listened to with the deepest attention: and
now, though from the farthest crowd there did
arise a cry of—“Save him, despite himself!—Rescue
for Mornington!”—the pikes of the front ranks
were lowered, and the butts of a thousand arquebuses
rang heavily, as they were grounded at my
bidding.

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“Now, men and soldiers,” I continued, “since,
as men and soldiers I may now address ye, will I
speak to your senses; now will I plead for you
with my friend the Maréchal D'Harcourt, that ye
may be restored, without disgrace or punishment,
to your old standing in his favour—pledging myself
and my own honour, that ye offend not in the
like again! For myself, at my own pleasure go
I to Paris, under honourable ward, to clear my
good name from the calumnies of a false traitor;
and here, before you all, I take the time to thank
our common leader, the noble Cômte D'Harcourt,
that he hath given me this prompt occasion to
prove my innocence! I doubt not, he will grant
the escort of a troop of mine own cavalry, to
assure mine and my lady's safety; and that, with
the same party, he will pledge his stainless word
to send in my accuser! I speak not this for my
own satisfaction—for, by St. George, I doubt not,
nor fear any thing—but to show you—men misguided
as ye are, and maddened—the terms on
which we stand—I and the Cômte D'Harcourt!”

The popular mind was touched—the proverbial
fickleness of mobs was proved once more! The
very men who, but a few short moments before,
were brandishing their thirsty weapons—thirsty for
the blood of their commander—now answered my

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rude eloquence, if eloquence it were, with a full-mouthed
and hearty shout!

“Live! live! our noble leaders—live, Mornington
and D'Harcourt!”

The tumult was already at an end; and, making
a virtue of necessity, my obstinate old enemy, who
was nevertheless, despite his rankling hatred, more
moved by my forbearance than he would have
been willing to admit, offered me his hand, as I descended
from my elevated station, with some show
at least of cordiality; pledging himself, in the most
unreserved manner, to all which I had promised in
his behalf; thanking me for my noble conduct; and
expressing himself fully confident that my trial
must result in full and honourable acquittal!

Nothing further remained to be done: the mutineers
dispersed peaceably to their several quarters;
the heavy ordnance was restored to its proper
situation; the officers were released from their
temporary restraint; the night sentinels hurried to
their posts; and all around seemed eager, by their
alacrity and prompt obedience, to efface the remembrance
of their late misconduct.

As far as I was myself concerned, nothing could
have fallen out better; for, although I expected
much future inconvenience and annoyance, I could
not anticipate much of peril, from charges so

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absurdly unfounded as those on which I stood arraigned.
For the rest, I was assured, by my knowledge
of D'Harcourt's fears and policy, if not of his
probity, that his faith would be strictly preserved;
that I should be sent, in company with Isabel,
to Paris, where all disputes and doubts would be
brought to a speedy and just solution; and that
my enemy would be under the same restraint with
myself and so prevented from any further machinations
against my life, my happiness, or my honour.

For that night I was kept, indeed, under honourable
arrest in the quarters of the commander. I
was allowed to see my old servant, whom I had fixed
upon as one of my own escort, and, through him,
to communicate with Isabel; and, although by no
means free from care for the future, contrary I believe
to the common course of things, I slept calmly
and soundly till the morning's dawn.

With the break of day I was informed that the
detachment, consisting of an entire regiment of
D'Harcourt's German cavalry, was in readiness. I
was permitted to select the officers, and even privates,
of my own guard of honour; and, having
pledged my sacred word for myself and escort,
that I would not attempt either to escape or to
communicate with Isabel—for whom a horse-litter
had been provided—received my sword from the

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hands of D'Harcourt himself, with a compliment
of far more neatness than sincerity; and mounting
my good Bayard, rode forth as a prisoner from the
lines in which I had so lately commanded, accompanied
by my wife—nominally as a hostage for my
safe-conduct—and by the captive of my own sword,
and an attainted traitor to boot, as my accuser!
So much for popularity and power—so much for
the stability of mortal things!

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