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In the Chateau de Martigne there was a large and noble room,
opening immediately from the great hall, which was of itself one
of the stateliest in France, fitted up as a library. It was the taste
of the owner of this magnificent pile, to keep up everything in the
antique state, which suited the time in which it had been built,
and which had descended through a long line of ancestors, unimpaired;
to the present day.

Thus, the hall, a vast oblong space, supported by sixteen columns
with a superb double staircase at the farther end, and a gallery
running round it, and adorned with emblazoned shields and banners,
suits of complete steel-armor, and weapons of all kinds, from
the battle-axe and bow of the Merovingian kings, to the musket
and bandoleers of the seventeenth century.

The library, however, with which we have more especially to
do, was finished in the elaborate and sumptuous manner of the
era known to architects as that of Francis the First—the walls,
the mantel-pieces, and the ceiling, all being composed of black
walnut wood, worked into carvings of the most exquisite device,
standing out from the level surface, in bold and clear relief.

Strange arabesques and scroll-work, commencing with the
heads and busts of nymphs or satyrs, and ending in long wreaths
of fruit and flowers, enriched the cornices and anæ which divided
the walls into separate recesses, each occupied by a bookcase
adorned in the same taste, and surmounted by the bust of some
philosopher or bard of the olden time.

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The roof was deeply arched, and covered with dark fret-work, terminating
in long pendants, from each of which swung a bronze lamp.

The chimney-pieces, of which there were two, were wrought into
groups and friezes, representing scenes from the Odyssey and the
Iliad; and the floor, where it was not covered by soft Persian carpet,
was of the same material with the walls, polished till you
could see your features in it as if in a Venetian mirror.

There were two or three fine pictures on the walls, most of
them family portraits; but the chief portion of all the four sides of
the room, where not pierced by doors or windows, was covered
with a proud array of books—not less, certainly, than twenty-five
or thirty thousand volumes, the treasured store of intellectual
ages.

Beyond these, there was little furniture in the large room; three
or four massive tables covered with dark green leather, supporting
each a set of writing materials and port folios, and each flanked
by two large arm-chairs, being all that it contained, with the
exception of an old-fashioned clock, and two flights of library steps.

It was, however, notwithstanding its dark wooden wainscoating
and the antique air of its furniture, a singularly pleasant and even
cheerful room; overlooking from, six lofty windows, a broad flagged
terrace, and a fine stretch of turfy lawn sloping down to the
margin of the stream, where it flowed clear and tranquil above the
cataract; whose roar, mellowed by distance into a musical and
sleepy murmur, could be heard plainly through the whisper of the
winds in the old elm-trees. For this and other reasons, the library
was a favorite resort of the young lord of the chateau; here he was
wont to spend many hours of every morning, in that species of
literary idleness, which is so wondrously attractive to the man of
elegant acquirements and easy leisure.

Here he was sitting on the morning when events so strange
were going on, unheard of and unsuspected, within a few miles of
his door. He was dressed in his ordinary garb; and, as he sat by
a table, turning over the leaves of a large folio volume, with many
papers scattered upon the board before him, and a pen in his fingers,
no one would have imagined that he was steeped to the lips
in conspiracy, and what was then termed rebellion—or that he

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was on the verge, and about to plunge into the midst, of actual
hostilities.

There lay, however, on one of the other tables, an old-fashioned
casque with a vizor, such as was still worn by men of rank, and
leaders---recently burnished, and provided with a new red plume—
a cuirass, splendidly embossed with arabesques and gilded scroll
work—a pair of steel gloves, and a long straight cross-handled
broadsword. The day without was gray and dark, and though
the hands of the old clock showed that it was already some
time after noon, the sun had not yet shown itself, nor did there seem
to be much prospect of the weather clearing.

Once or twice Charles looked up from the page he was reading,
and turned his eyes to the lofty casements, as if wondering at the
darkness of the day; but he again applied himself to his reading,
or his musings, rather—for his fingers scarcely turned a leaf, and
his eyes dwelt for the most part on one spot. At length there
came a sharp bright glare, which was reflected from the paper so
vividly that it almost dazzled him; and, at the same instant, a
loud, stunning crash, that seemed to make the whole house reel
and shudder. The young lord started up, exclaiming:

“Good Heaven! what a clap of thunder! The lightning must
have struck somewhere near!” and he was going out to make inquiries,
when an old gray-headed servant entered. “What is the
matter, Jerome?” cried Charles de Martigne, connecting his appearance
with the thunder; “has the lightning done any mischief?
has it struck the house?”

“No! my lord, no!” the old man answered; “but there is a
very strange old woman here. I thought, at first, it was a man in
woman's clothes; but I believe I was wrong, after all. She has
been here an hour or better, insisting that she must see your lordship;
but to say the truth, when I was convinced that she was a
woman, I thought that she was crazy—and so I denied her; but
she will not go away.”

“You should not have denied her, Jerome. You know that I
always see everybody, particularly the old and poor. But why
do you think her crazy?”

“Why, my lord, she has been plaguing me and all the other

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men to come in and tell you some strange nonsense---I do not
know well what---about mill-wheels, and hawks at midnight!”

M. de Martigne understood, instantly; but gave no sign of intelligence,
simply desiring him to show the woman in. She was
indeed a singular looking person, extremely tall, and so gaunt and
bony that she looked rather like a man than one of the softer sex.
Her complexion was almost as dark as copper, but her eye was
as bright and lustrous as a diamond---and the softness of her
voice, when she spoke, indisputably proved that she was a female.

Her dress, though plain and of rude materials, was whole, and
scrupulously clean; and there was nothing very peculiar in it,
except that she wore a sort of turban on her head of scarlet
woollen, and that she had a long sheathed knife at her girdle.

Charles de Martigne looked at her fixedly as she entered the
room, but could not remember that he had ever seen her before,
and he was quite convinced that she did not belong to that part
of the country. “Well! my good woman,” he said, nodding to
Jerome to withdraw, “my servants tell me that you desire to
speak with me; what is it you have got to say?” and seeing that
she made no answer, and that the old steward had left the room,
he added: “and what is this that you have been telling them
about the mill-wheel standing still. When rests it, I beseech
you?”

“When the hawk flies at midnight!” answered the woman,
quietly, giving the miller's countersign; and Charles cried, instantly:

“Well! what from him? speak quickly!”

“I must, indeed, if I would speak at all,” she replied, “He
sent you word two hours since---but your fool servants would not
let me in---that Achille de Roudun will be here with three hundred
horse to make you prisoner, before one of the clock. He bids
you on no account resist, or ring the ban cloche, or make any sign
of preparation. Yield yourself quietly, and all will go well; and
if Achille should tarry here to-night, which he, for aught you know
of, fancies he will do, you are to be quite sure you leave your
celler-doors unlocked; and you are not to be surprised, whatever
happens!”

[figure description] Page 096.[end figure description]

“My cellar doors unlocked! Psha! he could never have sent
me such a message. I shall do nothing of the kind!”

“As you will, my lord,” said the woman. “You will do as
you judge best—and you will judge, I suppose, of the truth of
this, according as the rest that I have told you shall turn out true
or false. Further, he bade me say that they have sent Isabel of
Issengeaunt o a nunnery at Rennes, but that she would not arrive
there this day, nor to-morrow either—and that, if you are wise
and wary, you will see her, most likely, at two hours, or thereabout,
past midnight!”

Just as she had done speaking, old Jerome entered, in great
haste.

“My lord!” he said, in a trembling voice, “a regiment of horse,
two or three hundred strong, are coming up the avenue from the
park-gates, with the colors of Roudun displayed, and, I believe,
the young count at their head.”

“There! there!” cried the old woman; “did I not tell you?
will you not believe? But I must be going; it will not do that
they should see me:” and she ran hastily out of the room; and,
passing through the servants, who were all crowding into the great
hall, made her exit by the door in the rear of the chateau.

“What is it your pleasure that we do?” asked the old man.
“Shall we barricade the doors, and take up arms? Shall I ring
the ban cloche?”

“No! no! by no means! not for the world!” exclaimed Charles
de Martigne; “I dare say it is nothing but a courteous visit from the
count. What are the servants crowding into the hall for? Send
them away—quick! quick!—send them away to their business!
And here! take these arms,” pointing to the weapons on the
table, “and lay them on the board in the armory! And listen!
in case I do not get an opportunity to speak with you again in
private, leave all the cellar doors unlocked when you go to bed
to-night; but tell no one anything about it. Now, go; and make
haste. Let all the men be at their ordinary business when the
soldiers come. Tell them that it is all right—that I expected it:
that will satisfy them.”

There was just time to execute his orders, and the house had

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returned to its customary order, when one troop of horse came up
to the door at a slow trot, while two or three more spread themselves
out to the right and left, commanding every side of the
house, and rendering it impossible for any one to escape from the
building. An orderly officer dismounted, and rang the bell at the
hall door loudly; while Achille de Roudun sat on his horse before
the steps leading down from the terrace, talking quite unconcernedly,
as it appeared, with two or three young men who accompanied
them, dressed in rich uniforms, and whom Charles
recognized at once as Paul D'Armençon, Henri de la Roche, and
the other Catholic nobles of whom Martin Guerne had told him.
Before the servants had answered the sound of the door-bell,
Charles de Martigne arose and walked to the window, as if to see
who were his visitors; and, catching the eye of M. de Roudun, he
waved his hand courteously, and went forth to the terrace to
meet him.

“Good morrow!” he said, with grave courtesy; “you had better
dismount quick, my good lord, and take the shelter of my poor
roof, for we are going to have a thunder-storm. Here, Jerome,
call the grooms to attend to these gentlemen's horses!”

“Such is our purpose, my lord,” answered de Roudun, springing
to the ground, and coming up the steps; “although I regret
much so say, that the duty which calls us hither is of a most
unpleasant nature!”

“Walk in, count—walk in; and bring these gentlemen with
you---Monsieur d'Armençon, I believe, and Count Henri de la
Roche,” replied Charles. “We will talk of these matters in the
library. Call in as many of your troopers as you please. They
can wait in the hall.”

And as he finished speaking, he led the way quietly into the
library, which he had just quitted, followed by Achille de Roudun,
and three or four of the other gentlemen; some twenty of the
troopers leaping down from their chargers, and clanking into the
hall with their huge boots and heavy broadswords. As soon as
Charles entered the room, he unbuckled the broad shoulder-belt,
from which his rapier was suspended, and laid it on the table;
then taking up his hat, and drawing himself up proudly in the

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presence of his unwelcome guests—“I presume,” he said, sternly,
“M. de Roudun, that I am to consider myself your prisoner?”

“I fear it must be so,” replied Achille. “As a neighbor and a
friend, I would have much wished to avoid this task, which has been
put upon me; but his majesty's orders are imperative!”

“As such, my lord, I shall bow to them,” answered Charles. “In
the meantime, I must beg leave to see your commission!”

“You will find it most ample, sir,” replied Roudun, handing
him several parchments. “This is a warrant, sir, regularly endorsed
by his majesty and the cardinal, for the arrest of such gentlemen
and nobles of the Huguenot faith, as may be supposed capable
of resisting in arms the legitimate authority of the realm.
This, a separate mandate for the arrest of yourself in particular;
and this last, my commission to levy a regiment of horse, and to cooperate
in arms with the regular forces, under the Baron of St.
Pierre, now marching hitherward to put down this rebellion.”

“Rebellion! my lord,” replied Charles de Martigne. “I have
seen nothing that looks like rebellion. Where do you find it?”

“It is not my word, sir,” answered De Roudun: “it is the term
employed in his majesty's commission; and in the proclamation
which you may chance to have seen, prohibiting irregular assemblages
of persons, not of the true faith; whether under pretence of
prayer, or for other causes. But it is time that I should ask—Do
you admit our authority? Do you confess the legality of this
arrest, and submit yourself our prisoner? or do you intend to
resist?”

“Resist!” cried Charles; “resist a royal mandate, backed by a
regiment of horse? With what, I pray you, should I resist, if I
would? With a score of old serving-men, and the armor which
my ancestors wore at Poictiers and Cressy? No! count; you have
taken good care to render resistance unavailing!”

“Then you surrender yourself, sir?” inquired De Roudun; “in
that case, I must demand your sword!”

“There it lies, count,” replied De Martigne, “upon the table.
You can take it yourself, if you will; or ring the bell, if you prefer
it, for a servant to reach it to you. I believe I shall not think it
necessary to wait on you myself.”

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Achille de Roudun's face flushed fiery red; and his eye blazed
fiercely for a moment, and his lip quivered; but he suppressed his
rage, and turning, with a sneering smile to one of his subordinates—
“Reach me his sword,” he said, “Captain d'Armençon,
unless you are too proud to touch it!”

“There is no disgrace, sir,” answered Paul d'Armençon, as he
obeyed his superior, “in touching the sword of a brave man. Nor,”
he continued, bowing politely to the master of the house, “in surrendering
it to the order of the king.”

“I never thought there was, sir,” replied Charles. “But tell me,
Count Achille, what do you propose to do with me. Am I to be
placed au secret?”

“By no means, sir! by no means!” De Roudun answered him.
“Had his eminence's orders been of that nature, I should have
begged him to select some one else to execute them. No! Monsieur
de Martigne; we propose, if you will afford us the hospitality
of your house, to tarry here until to-morrow morning; while I
send parties to enforce similar warrants against the Lords of Landavran,
of St. Aignan, and St. Erblon; and if you choose to give
us your parole of honor, you shall remain as much at liberty as you
are now. At dawn of day to-morrow, we shall march to Rennes,
whither you will accompany us with such servants as you may select;
and, if you please, with your own horses. The royal commissioners
will be there by the time we arrive; and before them, I
have no doubt, you will at once be enabled to establish your innocence
of all the charges which have, I am perfectly convinced, been
most calumniously brought against you.”

“My parole of honor to what, sir?” asked the young nobleman;
“I am your prisoner—for what do you wish more? I do not suppose
you intend to lock me up in the dungeon of my own house!”

“That you will not leave the house until to-morrow morning—
give me your word of that, my lord; and I shall ask for nothing
more.”

“I do, Monsieur de Roudun---I give you my word of honor
that I will not leave my house, without your permission, before
daybreak to-morrow. And now that we have settled these unpleasant
matters, let us forget that there are such things in the world

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as wars and rebellions, and be good friends and companions for the
rest of the day. You have not dined yet, I presume, gentlemen:
let me request you to make yourselves perfectly at home. Your
troopers had better be quartered in the house—there is abundance
of room for them, and stalls enough in my stable!”

“Thanks! thanks!” exclaimed Achille. “So far as it is in my
power, we will avail ourselves of your kind offer; but I have got
a detachment to send off. I shall keep two troops here, so that
you will have to make room for a hundred. Monsieur d'Armen
çon, oblige me by stepping out, and requesting Captain de St.
Etienne to proceed instantly with one troop to Landavran. He
will have to sleep at La Guerche, and to proceed and execute his
orders at daybreak. Messieurs of Dol and Pontorson will also set
forth instantly for their destinations: they must be here before
dawn to-morrow. That done, we shall be at your service.”

“Pardon me, then, until dinner time,” said Charles; “you have
my word that I will hold no communication with any one abroad,
nor leave the chateau until to-morrow morning. I have many
things to do previous to leaving my house for an indefinite time.
We will defer the dinner until three o'clock; and then, I believe, I
can offer you both boar and venison. My major-domo will show
you your apartments.”

He had just turned to leave the room when a loud explosion,
followed by a long rolling crash, rose heavily upon the air, making
the whole house rock, as it seemed, and every window shake
and clatter in its casements.

“What can that be?” he exclaimed, starting. “What a strange
noise!---surely it was not thunder! It came from the south, too, I
think; and the storm has been passing to the northward. Step out
with me, I pray you, to the terrace, that we may all see together
what it can be.”

Achille de Roudun and his officers had been no less startled
than De Martigne, and followed him out readily to the terrace;
where they found many of the servants, and all the troopers,
standing in eager and excited groups, speculting on the causes of
the sound. The moment they had reached the door, a large cloud
of dark and murky smoke was clearly seen, distinguishable, by

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its dun color, from the white mist of the cataract, soaring up
slowly from the chasm of the mill.

“What was that, Jerome?” asked his master. “Did you hear
that strange noise?”

“I cannot think, my lord!” the old man answered. “We
have heard firing down there this last half-hour and now—”

“It was an explosion of gunpowder, beyond all doubt, my lord of
Martigne!” said the lancepesade of the Catholic regiment, touching
the peak of his helmet; “and of a very large quantity, I should
think, too; as for the firing—”

“As for the firing!” interrupted De Roudun, “I know all
about that quite well. As we were crossing the bridge, over the
brook, we saw a large force of armed peasants and smugglers
passing up the ravine toward the mill, and I detached two troops
to follow and arrest them; and I presume the rebellious dogs
have had the impudence to fire upon his majesty's horse; in which
case—”

“We will retire to the house, monsieur!” said De Martigne; “it
can be pleasant to me neither to hear denunciations against my tenantry
and people, nor to look on the devastation of their property.
I think, moreover, it would be better that you should post sentinels
at the doors, and appoint a corps-de-guard; as I do not wish to be
answerable for the conduct of my servants.”

As he spoke, he retired with a grave face, and passing through
his attendants without saying a word to them, sought his own
chamber, where he remained in deep meditation, until old Jerome
came to ask his commands respecting dinner.

Just at this moment the trumpets sounded boot and saddle;
and reminded thereby, the old man told his lord how sentinels had
been placed on foot at every door of the house; patrols sent out
to ride round the grounds; and two parties, of twenty men each,
detached to keep guard---one in the lodge on the high road, and
the other at the stables.

“The old knights' hall, as we call it,” he continued, “has
been designated as the guard-room for the others. But, God
bless your lordship! if you will only say the word, any one of us
can get out of the windows as soon as it is dark, and carry word

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down to the village, where we can get men enough in half an hour
to drive these scoundrels home again, not half so gayly as they
came!”

“No! Jerome, no! replied Charles, “only do as I have bid you. I
have given them my word and honor that I will not leave the house
till to-morrow morning, nor hold communication with any one
without. And, indeed, I much fear,” he added, with a longdrawn
sigh, “that the only person with whom I could have communicated
has perished in that terrible explosion. See that all
things are prepared handsomely in the crimson saloon for dinner;
and let the private troopers be provided with all reasonable comforts—
above all things, forget not, that when you shut the doors
for the night, you leave the cellars all unlocked and open—
though heaven knows why?” he continued, after the old man
had left his presence—“for I do not; nor can conjecture even.
But he has never failed me yet, and, if he be in life, I will not fail
him.”

In a little while after this, the dinner was announced, and both
the venison and the wild-boar proved excellent—at least, to judge
from the appetites of the Count de Roudun and his friends; nor
did the wines of the count appear to give less satisfaction. His
old Auxerre, famed in song as “the drink of kings,” was again
and again replenished; and from the courtesy, and even mirth,
which prevailed at the board, no one would have suspected that
the entertainer and the entertained might have stood with more
propriety on the terms of mortal enmity, than in that false position
of friendly guest and unreluctant host. The meal was not ended
when the trumpets without again sounded the well-known
cadences of “horse and away!” and almost immediately afterward,
the three troops, dispatched to secure the other Huguenot
lords, set off at a sharp trot, and the clang of their accoutrements
was soon lost in the distance; but before it had yet died quite away,
the sound of a horse at a hard gallop was heard coming up the avenue
and in a moment afterward, an orderly pulled his charger at the
door, and asked vehemently for the colonel.

The man, who was admitted instantly, was one of those who
had been dispatched in pursuit of Martin Guerne; he showed, by

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his whole appearance, that he had been recently in action. There
was blood on his face, and on many parts of his accoutrements;
and a scarf bound hastily on his left arm, showed that he had not
escaped unwounded. As soon as the eye of Charles de Martigue
fell on him, he perceived at once that he came from the scene of
strife between the miller's men and the followers of De Roudun;
and the look of anxiety and eagerness which all his features wore,
betrayed to his guest the keen interest he felt in the matter. But
Achille had his own reasons for not desiring his entertainer to be
acquainted with the other events of the day; he left the room,
therefore, with the orderly, and it was some short space before he
returned. When he did so, his face was very grave, and there
were traces of anxiety, too manifest to be mistaken, written upon
his lineaments, which were but rarely so affected.

“You will pardon me,” he said, on his return, “Monsieur de
Martigne---in the first place, for leaving your hospitable board so
abruptly; and, in the second, for taking the liberty now of asking
you a few questions. It was thought best by myself and Madame
de Roudun, that she and my cousin should be removed for a time
from this country, which seemed likely to become the scene of civil
contention, and perhaps even bloodshed. They set off, therefore,
at eleven o'clock this morning, from the chateau de Roudun, in
two carriages, by the great road for Paris. To my extreme astonishment,
however, in crossing the bridge on my way hither,
we discovered in the ravine below us, hastening toward the mill,
sixty or more armed men; some mounted, some on foot, with
the notorious miller, Martin Guerne, at their head, escorting, or
carrying off I should say, my cousin Isabel of Issengeaux, and her
maid-servant. My duty not permitting me to leave my men in
person, I sent off two troops to pursue the rebels, and secure the
ladies. Now, sir, I learn from the orderly just arrived, that there
has been a desperate conflict, in which many of the peasants and
some fifteen or twenty of our men have fallen, with several officers;
and that in the end the ruffians—for I can call them nothing
else—retreated up a staircase to the platform or ledge whereupon
the first shoot of the cataract pitches, and blew up the steps by
means of a mine previously contrived, in order to insure their

[figure description] Page 104.[end figure description]

safety. Now, Monsieur le Comte, as a gentleman and cavalier of
honor, I conclude that you know nothing of this matter; and that,
setting all questions of religion and policy aside for the moment,
you will be willing to assist me in rescuing my cousin, who must
be suffering terribly in such rude captors' hands.”

“You do me no more than justice,” answered Charles; “I
did not even hear that the lady was about to leave De Roudun. But
you are mistaken about this man, Martin Guerne; he is not the
rude and brutal ruffian you imagine him.”

“Well! well! we will not discuss that now—will you give me
some information? That is what I want to know.”

“I will not promise, sir,” replied De Martigne; “I will make
no promises before-hand; but ask your questions—I will answer
them if possible.”

“Tell me, then—tell me,” cried De Roudun, eagerly, “where
can these men have concealed themselves? The orderly says they
passed in between the rocks and the falling water. Is there a
cavern there? and, above all, is there any way to escape thence,
besides the steps in front?”

“Upon my word! I do not know,” answered Charles, earnestly.
“I think I have heard that there is a cave; but I was
never up there, and in truth I know not. But there cannot by
any possibility, be any outlet to it but that in front—the river is
above their heads and on their left hand; and sure I am there is
no outlet or opening on my grounds, that I have heard of.”

“You will not tell me!” cried Achille; “I have no right to expect
you will, but—”

“Upon my life! upon my honor!” exclaimed Charles; “upon
my soul! you wrong me—I do not know, indeed; I have
told you truly and frankly to the best of my ability. But ask my
servants—some of the elder men may be able to inform you.”

The servants were called in, and two or three of them at once
declared that there was a cavern, which they had often seen and
examined—but they all declared that it was a small place, not
above ten or twelve yards deep, very dark and damp, and immediately
behind the cataract; and, further still, all were unanimous in
asserting, although privately and separately questioned, that there

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was not any other mouth or outlet whatever, except that opening
on the platform. There was an air, too, of sincerity and truth in
their manner, which went farther than all their protestations in
convincing those who heard them; and they indeed spoke that
which they believed to be correct, and the sincere manner was
neither assumed nor deceptive.

“Good God! but this is very shocking!” exclaimed Charles de
Martigne, “that she should pass the night in so terrible a place!
What can be done?”

“Nothing, I fear to-night,” said De Roudun; “I hear that they
have summoned them three or four times by sound of trumpet,
but elicited no answer. You have got no ladders here, I suppose
count?”

“None long enough, I am sure,” said Charles; “the lower
fall is above a hundred feet in perpendicular height. But my
men, the carpenters and wheelwrights, can go to work on some
directly!”

“I will ride down myself, and see,” answered Achille, speaking
quite cordially; for, in truth, in his anxiety for Isabel's safety, he
had forgotten his hostility to De Martigne. “I must post a strong
guard at the rock's foot to prevent their escape. I must trespass
yet further on your hospitality for food and liquor for the men;
and if you will let your people make the ladders, at the worst, we
can scale the place to-morrow.”

“Certainly, certainly,” replied the Lord of Martigne; “they
shall be set to work immediately, and shall work all night. Order
whatever things you please to be carried down—my house is at
your service.” And then he shook his head and muttered to himself:
“I suppose he intended it for the best—but Martin has done
very wrongly.”

Meanwhile, De Roudun mounted his horse, and rode away
rapidly with the dragoon, leaving his subalterns still at table with
their prisoner. The wine was good and abundant; and they
drank deep, and scarcely noticed that the count ever passed the
bottle without filling, and sat in dark and melancholy silence.
An hour passed; and the Lord of Roudun returned, gloomy and
dissatisfied.

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“I summoned them,” he said, “three times again, and offered
them full pardon and reward, if they would restore the lady;
yet I received no answer, nor heard any sound of living thing.
You would swear that, except my troopers, there was not a human
being within a mile of the spot—yet there must be! They cannot
escape: I have a hundred men there, and a watch-fire that
makes the whole place as light as day. We must assault the place
as soon as the ladders are prepared.”

“They will be ready by daybreak,” answered Charles, coldly;
“and now, I will pray you excuse me, for I am somewhat fatigued
and would retire to my chamber. I beg, however, that my departure
may not affect your stay; and that you will not spare the wine.
I wish you good rest, gentlemen.”

“One moment, count,” interposed De Roudun; “you must
forgive me, if I place a sentry at your chamber door—he will
allow your valet to pass to and fro.”

“I have pledged you my parole of honor, sir,” replied the master
of the house---a glow of indignation rising to his brow, “and I
am not accustomed—but as you will,” he interrupted himself—
“as you will. I dare say you are quite right: duty is
duty!”

And with a cold stiff bow, he left the saloon, and returned to
his bed-chamber, which he had hardly reached, before he heard
a soldier take post beside the doorway. For several hours longer,
the noise of revelry and loud talking was heard from the saloon,
and from the guard-room of the troopers; but long before midnight,
all the unwelcome guests had sought their couches; and,
save the sentinels, who were already nodding at their posts, and
the lord of the castle, who had not put his clothes off, or so much
as think of sleeping, there was not when the clock struck twelve, a
soul afoot or stirring in the chateau.

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