E-text prepared by Martin Robb



THE CORNET OF HORSE:

A Tale of Marlborough's Wars

by

G. A. HENTY.

1914







Contents

   Chapter  1: Windthorpe Chace.
   Chapter  2: Rupert to the Rescue.
   Chapter  3: A Kiss and its Consequences.
   Chapter  4: The Sedan Chair.
   Chapter  5: The Fencing School.
   Chapter  6: The War Of Succession.
   Chapter  7: Venloo.
   Chapter  8: The Old Mill.
   Chapter  9: The Duel.
   Chapter 10: The Battle Of The Dykes.
   Chapter 11: A Death Trap.
   Chapter 12: The Sad Side Of War.
   Chapter 13: Blenheim.
   Chapter 14: The Riot at Dort.
   Chapter 15: The End of a Feud.
   Chapter 16: Ramilies.
   Chapter 17: A Prisoner of War.
   Chapter 18: The Court of Versailles.
   Chapter 19: The Evasion.
   Chapter 20: Loches.
   Chapter 21: Back in Harness.
   Chapter 22: Oudenarde.
   Chapter 23: The Siege of Lille.
   Chapter 24: Adele.
   Chapter 25: Flight and Pursuit.
   Chapter 26: The Siege of Tournai.
   Chapter 27: Malplaquet, and the End of the War.




Chapter 1: Windthorpe Chace.

"One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four--turn to your lady;
one, two, three, four--now deep reverence. Now you take her hand;
no, not her whole hand--the tips of her fingers; now you lead her
to her seat; now a deep bow, so. That will do. You are improving,
but you must be more light, more graceful, more courtly in your
air; still you will do.

"Now run away, Mignon, to the garden; you have madam's permission
to gather fruit.

"Now, Monsieur Rupert, we will take our lesson in fencing."

The above speech was in the French language, and the speaker was a
tall, slightly-built man of about fifty years of age. The scene was
a long low room, in a mansion situated some two miles from Derby.
The month was January, 1702, and King William the Third sat upon
the throne. In the room, in addition to the dancing master, were
the lad he was teaching, an active, healthy-looking boy between
fifteen and sixteen; his partner, a bright-faced French girl of
some twelve years of age; and an old man, nearer eighty than
seventy, but still erect and active, who sat in a large armchair,
looking on.

By the alacrity with which the lad went to an armoire and took out
the foils, and steel caps with visors which served as fencing
masks, it was clear that he preferred the fencing lesson to the
dancing. He threw off his coat, buttoned a padded guard across his
chest, and handing a foil to his instructor, took his place before
him.

"Now let us practise that thrust in tierce after the feint and
disengage. You were not quite so close as you might have been,
yesterday. Ha! ha! that is better. I think that monsieur your
grandfather has been giving you a lesson, and poaching on my manor.
Is it not so?"

"Yes," said the old man, "I gave him ten minutes yesterday evening;
but I must give it up. My sword begins to fail me, and your pupil
gets more skillful, and stronger in the wrist, every day. In the
days when I was at Saint Germains with the king, when the cropheads
lorded it here, I could hold my own with the best of your young
blades. But even allowing fully for the stiffness of age, I think I
can still gauge the strength of an opponent, and I think the boy
promises to be of premiere force."

"It is as you say, monsieur le colonel. My pupil is born to be a
fencer; he learns it with all his heart; he has had two good
teachers for three years; he has worked with all his energy at it;
and he has one of those supple strong wrists that seem made for the
sword. He presses me hard.

"Now, Monsieur Rupert, open play, and do your best."

Then began a struggle which would have done credit to any fencing
school in Europe. Rupert Holliday was as active as a cat, and was
ever on the move, constantly shifting his ground, advancing and
retreating with astonishing lightness and activity. At first he was
too eager, and his instructor touched him twice over his guard.
Then, rendered cautious, he fought more carefully, although with no
less quickness than before; and for some minutes there was no
advantage on either side, the master's longer reach and calm steady
play baffling every effort of his assailant.

At last, with a quick turn of the wrist, he sent Rupert's foil
flying across the room. Rupert gave an exclamation of disgust,
followed by a merry laugh.

"You always have me so, Monsieur Dessin. Do what I will, sooner or
later comes that twist, which I cannot stop."

"You must learn how, sir. Your sword is so; as you lunge I guard,
and run my foil along yours, so as to get power near my hilt. Now
if I press, your sword must go; but you must not let me press; you
must disengage quickly. Thus, you see?

"Now let us try again. We will practise nothing else today--or
tomorrow--or till you are perfect. It is your one weak point. Then
you must practise to disarm your opponent, till you are perfect in
that also. Then, as far as I can teach you, you will be a master of
fencing. You know all my coups, and all those of monsieur le
colonel. These face guards, too, have worked wonders, in enabling
you to play with quickness and freedom. We are both fine blades.

"I tell you, young sir, you need not put up with an insult in any
public place in Europe. I tell you so, who ought to know."

In the year 1702 fencing was far from having attained that
perfection which it reached later. Masks had not yet been invented,
and in consequence play was necessarily stiff and slow, as the
danger of the loss of sight, or even of death, from a chance thrust
was very great. When Rupert first began his lessons, he was so rash
and hasty that his grandfather greatly feared an accident, and it
struck him that by having visors affixed to a couple of light steel
caps, not only would all possibility of an accident be obviated
upon the part of either himself or his pupil, but the latter would
attain a freedom and confidence of style which could otherwise be
only gained from a long practice in actual war. The result had more
than equalled his expectations; and Monsieur Dessin had, when he
assumed the post of instructor, been delighted with the invention,
and astonished at the freedom and boldness of the lad's play. It
was, then, thanks to these masks, as well as to his teachers' skill
and his own aptitude, that Rupert had obtained a certainty, a
rapidity, and a freedom of style absolutely impossible in the case
of a person, whatever his age, who had been accustomed to fence
with the face unguarded, and with the caution and stiffness
necessary to prevent the occurrence of terrible accident.

For another half hour the lesson went on. Then, just as the final
salute was given, the door opened at the end of the room, and a
lady entered, in the stiff dress with large hoops then in fashion.
Colonel Holliday advanced with a courtly air, and offered her his
hand. The French gentleman, with an air to the full as courtly as
that of the colonel, brought forward a chair for her; and when she
had seated herself, Rupert advanced to kiss her hand.

"No, Rupert, you are too hot. There, leave us; I wish to speak to
Colonel Holliday and monsieur."

With a deep bow, and a manner far more respectful and distant than
that which nowadays would be shown to a stranger who was worthy of
all honour, Rupert Holliday left his mother's presence.

"I know what she wants," Rupert muttered to himself. "To stop my
fencing lessons; just as if a gentleman could fence too well. She
wants me to be a stiff, cold, finnikin fop, like that conceited
young Brownlow, of the Haugh.

"Not if I know it, madame ma mere. You will never make a courtier
of me, any more than you will a whig. The colonel fought at Naseby,
and was with the king in France. Papa was a tory, and so am I."

And the lad whistled a Jacobite air as he made his way with a rapid
step to the stables.

The terms Whig and Tory in the reign of King William had very
little in common with the meaning which now attaches to these
words. The principal difference between the two was in their views
as to the succession to the throne. The Princess Anne would succeed
King William, and the whigs desired to see George, Elector of
Hanover, ascend the throne when it again became vacant; the tories
looked to the return of the Stuarts. The princess's sympathies were
with the tories, for she, as a daughter of James the Second, would
naturally have preferred that the throne should revert to her
brother, than that it should pass to a German prince, a stranger to
her, a foreigner, and ignorant even of the language of the people.
Roughly it may be said that the tories were the descendants of the
cavaliers, while the whigs inherited the principles of the
parliamentarians. Party feeling ran very high throughout the
country; and as in the civil war, the towns were for the most part
whig in their predilection, the country was tory.

Rupert Holliday had grown up in a divided house. The fortunes of
Colonel Holliday were greatly impaired in the civil war. His
estates were forfeited; and at the restoration he received his
ancestral home, Windthorpe Chace, and a small portion of the
surrounding domain, but had never been able to recover the outlying
properties from the men who had acquired them in his absence. He
had married in France, the daughter of an exile like himself; but
before the "king came to his own" his wife had died, and he
returned with one son, Herbert.

Herbert had, when he arrived at manhood, restored the fortunes of
the Chace by marrying Mistress Dorothy Maynard, the daughter and
heiress of a wealthy brewer of Derby, who had taken the side of
parliament, and had thriven greatly at the expense of the royalist
gentry of the neighbourhood. After the restoration he, like many
other roundheads who had grown rich by the acquisition of forfeited
estates, felt very doubtful whether he should be allowed to retain
possession, and was glad enough to secure his daughter's fortune by
marrying her to the heir of a prominent royalist. Colonel Holliday
had at first objected strongly to the match, but the probable
advantage to the fortune of his house at last prevailed over his
political bias. The fortune which Mistress Dorothy brought into the
family was eventually much smaller than had been expected, for
several of the owners of estates of which the roundhead brewer had
become possessed, made good their claims to them.

Still Herbert Holliday was a rich man at his father-in-law's death,
which happened three years after the marriage. With a portion of
his wife's dowry most of the outlying properties which had belonged
to the Chace were purchased back from their holders; but Herbert
Holliday, who was a weak man, cared nothing for a country life, but
resided in London with his wife. There he lived for another six
years, and was then killed in a duel over a dispute at cards,
having in that time managed to run through every penny that his
wife had brought him, save that invested in the lands of the Chace.

Dorothy Holliday then, at the Colonel's earnest invitation,
returned to the Chace with her son Rupert, then five years old.
There she ruled as mistress, for her disposition was a masterful
one, and she was a notable housekeeper. The colonel gladly resigned
the reins of government into her hands. The house and surrounding
land were his; the estate whose rental enabled the household to be
maintained as befitted that of a county family, was hers; and both
would in time, unless indeed Dorothy Holliday should marry again,
go to Rupert. Should she marry again--and at the time of her
husband's death she wanted two or three years of thirty--she might
divide the estate between Rupert and any other children she might
have, she having purchased the estate with her dowry, and having
right of appointment between her children as she chose. Colonel
Holliday was quite content to leave to his daughter-in-law the
management of the Chace, while he assumed that of his grandson, on
whom he doted. The boy, young as he then was, gave every promise of
a fine and courageous disposition, and the old cavalier promised
himself that he would train him to be a soldier and a gentleman.

When the lad was eight years old, the old vicar of the little
church at the village at the gates of the Chace died, and the
living being in the colonel's gift as master of the Chace, he
appointed a young man, freshly ordained, from Oxford, who was
forthwith installed as tutor to Rupert.

Three years later, Colonel Holliday heard that a French emigre had
settled in Derby, and gave lessons in his own language and in
fencing. Rupert had already made some advance in these studies, for
Colonel Holliday, from his long residence in France, spoke the
language like a native; and now, after Mistress Dorothy's objection
having been overcome by the assurance that French and fencing were
necessary parts of a gentleman's education if he were ever to make
his way at court, Monsieur Dessin was installed as tutor in these
branches, coming out three times a week for the afternoon to the
Chace.

A few months before our story begins, dancing had been added to the
subjects taught. This was a branch of education which Monsieur
Dessin did not impart to the inhabitants of Derby, where indeed he
had but few pupils, the principal portion of his scanty income
being derived from his payments from the Chace. He had, however,
acceded willingly enough to Mistress Dorothy's request, his consent
perhaps being partly due to the proposition that, as it would be
necessary that the boy should have a partner, a pony with a groom
should be sent over twice a week to Derby to fetch his little
daughter Adele out to the Chace, where, when the lesson was over,
she could amuse herself in the grounds until her father was free to
accompany her home.

In those days dancing was an art to be acquired only with long
study. It was a necessity that a gentleman should dance, and dance
well, and the stately minuet required accuracy, grace, and dignity.
Dancing in those days was an art; it has fallen grievously from
that high estate.

Between Monsieur Dessin and the old cavalier a cordial friendship
reigned. The former had never spoken of his past history, but the
colonel never doubted that, like so many refugees who sought our
shore from France from the date of the revocation of the edict of
Nantes to the close of the great revolution, he was of noble blood,
an exile from his country on account of his religion or political
opinions; and the colonel tried in every way to repay to him the
hospitality and kindness which he himself had received during his
long exile in France. Very often, when lessons were over, the two
would stroll in the garden, talking over Paris and its court; and
it was only the thought of his little daughter, alone in his dull
lodgings in Derby, that prevented Monsieur Dessin from accepting
the warm invitation to the evening meal which the colonel often
pressed upon him. During the daytime he could leave her, for Adele
went to the first ladies' school in the town, where she received an
education in return for her talking French to the younger pupils.
It was on her half holidays that she came over to dance with Rupert
Holliday.

Mistress Dorothy did not approve of her son's devotion to fencing,
although she had no objection to his acquiring the courtly
accomplishments of dancing and the French language; but her
opposition was useless. Colonel Holliday reminded her of the terms
of their agreement, that she was to be mistress of the Chace, and
that he was to superintend Rupert's education. Upon the present
occasion, when the lad had left the room, she again protested
against what she termed a waste of time.

"It is no waste of time, madam," the old cavalier said, more firmly
than he was accustomed to speak to his daughter-in-law. "Rupert
will never grow up a man thrusting himself into quarrels; and
believe me, the reputation of being the best swordsman at the court
will keep him out of them. In Monsieur Dessin and myself I may say
that he has had two great teachers. In my young days there was no
finer blade at the Court of France than I was; and Monsieur Dessin
is, in the new style, what I was in the old. The lad may be a
soldier--"

"He shall never be a soldier," Madam Dorothy broke out.

"That, madam," the colonel said courteously, "will be for the lad
himself and for circumstances to decide. When I was his age there
was nothing less likely than that I should be a soldier; but you
see it came about."

"Believe me, Madam," Monsieur Dessin said deferentially, "it is
good that your son should be a master of fence. Not only may he at
court be forced into quarrels, in which it will be necessary for
him to defend his honour, but in all ways it benefits him. Look at
his figure; nature has given him health and strength, but fencing
has given him that light, active carriage, the arm of steel, and a
bearing which at his age is remarkable. Fencing, too, gives a
quickness, a readiness, and promptness of action which in itself is
an admirable training. Monsieur le colonel has been good enough to
praise my fencing, and I may say that the praise is deserved. There
are few men in France who would willingly have crossed swords with
me," and now he spoke with a hauteur characteristic of a French
noble rather than a fencing master.

Madam Holliday was silent; but just as she was about to speak
again, a sound of horses' hoofs were heard outside. The silence
continued until a domestic entered, and said that Sir William
Brownlow and his son awaited madam's pleasure in the drawing room.

A dark cloud passed over the old colonel's face as Mistress Dorothy
rose and, with a sweeping courtesy, left the room.

"Let us go into the garden, monsieur," he said abruptly, "and see
how your daughter is getting on."

Adele was talking eagerly with Rupert, at a short distance from
whom stood a lad some two years his senior, dressed in an attire
that showed he was of inferior rank. Hugh Parsons was in fact the
son of the tenant of the home farm of the Chace, and had since
Rupert's childhood been his playmate, companion, and protector.

"Monsieur mon pere," Adele said, dancing up to her father, and
pausing for a moment to courtesy deeply to him and Colonel
Holliday, "Monsieur Rupert is going out with his hawks after a
heron that Hugh has seen in the pool a mile from here. He has
offered to take me on his pony, if you will give permission for me
to go."

"Certainly, you may go, Adele. Monsieur Rupert will be careful of
you, I am sure."

"Yes, indeed," Rupert said. "I will be very careful.

"Hugh, see my pony saddled, and get the hawks. I will run in for a
cloth to lay over the saddle."

In five minutes the pony was brought round, a cloth was laid over
the saddle, and Rupert aided Adele to mount, with as much deference
as if he had been assisting a princess. Then he took the reins and
walked by the pony's head, while Hugh followed, with two hooded
hawks upon his arm.

"They are a pretty pair," Colonel Holliday said, looking after
them.

"Yes," Monsieur Dessin replied, but so shortly that the colonel
looked at him with surprise.

He was looking after his daughter and Rupert with a grave,
thoughtful face, and had evidently answered his own thought rather
than the old cavalier's remark.

"Yes," he repeated, rousing himself with an effort, "they are a
pretty pair indeed."

At a walking pace, Rupert Holliday, very proud of his charge, led
the pony in the direction of the pool in which the heron had an
hour before been seen by Hugh, the boy and girl chattering in
French as they went. When they neared the spot they stopped, and
Adele alighted. Then Rupert took the hawks, while Hugh went forward
alone to the edge of the pool. Just as he reached it a heron soared
up with a hoarse cry.

Rupert slipped the hoods off the hawks, and threw them into the
air. They circled for an instant, and then, as they saw their
quarry rising, darting off with the velocity of arrows. The heron
instantly perceived his danger, and soared straight upwards. The
hawks pursued him, sailing round in circles higher and higher. So
they mounted until they were mere specks in the sky.

At last the hawks got above the heron, and instantly prepared to
pounce upon him. Seeing his danger, the heron turned on his back,
and, with feet and beak pointed upwards to protect himself, fell
almost like a stone towards the earth; but more quickly still the
hawks darted down upon him. One the heron with a quick movement
literally impaled upon his sharp bill; but the other planted his
talons in his breast, and, rending and tearing at his neck, the
three birds fell together, with a crash, to the earth.

The flight had been so directly upwards that they fell but a short
distance from the pool, and the lads and Adele were quickly upon
the spot. The heron was killed by the fall; and to Rupert's grief;
one of his hawks was also dead, pierced through and through by the
heron's beak. The other bird was with difficulty removed from the
quarry, and the hood replaced.

Rupert, after giving the heron's plumes to Adele for her hat, led
her back to the pony, Hugh following with the hawk on his wrist,
and carrying the two dead birds.

"I am so sorry your hawk is killed," Adele said.

"Yes," Rupert answered, "it is a pity. It was a fine, bold bird,
and gave us lots of trouble to train; but he was always rash, and I
told him over and over again what would happen if he was not more
careful."

"Have you any more?" Adele asked.

"No more falcons like this. I have gerfalcons, for pigeons and
partridges, but none for herons. But I dare say Hugh will be able
to get me two more young birds before long, and it is a pleasure to
train them."

Colonel Holliday and Monsieur Dessin met them as they returned to
the house.

"What, Rupert! Had bad luck?" his grandfather said.

"Yes, sir. Cavalier was too rash, and the quarry killed him."

"Hum!" said the old man; "just the old story. The falcon was well
named, Rupert. It was just our rashness that lost us all our
battles.

"What, Monsieur Dessin, you must be off? Will you let me have a
horse saddled for yourself; and the pony for mademoiselle? The
groom can bring them back."

Monsieur Dessin declined the offer; and a few minutes later started
to walk back with his daughter to Derby.



Chapter 2: Rupert to the Rescue.

About a month after the day on which Rupert had taken Mademoiselle
Adele Dessin out hawking, the colonel and Mistress Dorothy went to
dine at the house of a county family some miles away. The family
coach, which was only used on grand occasions, was had out, and in
this Mistress Dorothy, hooped and powdered in accordance with the
fashion of the day, took her seat with Colonel Holliday. Rupert had
been invited, as the eldest son was a lad of his own age.

It was a memorable occasion for him, as he was for the first time
to dress in the full costume of the period--with powdered hair,
ruffles, a blue satin coat and knee breeches of the same material,
with silk stockings. His greatest pleasure, however, was that he
was now to wear a sword, the emblem of a gentleman, for the first
time. He was to ride on horseback, for madam completely filled the
coach with her hoops and brocaded dress, and there was scarcely
room for Colonel Holliday, who sat beside her almost lost in her
ample skirts.

The weather was cold, and Rupert wore a riding cloak over his
finery, and high boots, which were upon his arrival to be exchanged
for silver-buckled shoes. They started at twelve, for the dinner
hour was two, and there were eight miles to drive--a distance
which, over the roads of those days, could not be accomplished much
under two hours. The coachman and two lackeys took their places on
the box of the lumbering carriage, the two latter being armed with
pistols, as it would be dark before they returned, and travelling
after dark in the days of King William was a danger not to be
lightly undertaken. Nothing could be more stately, or to Rupert's
mind more tedious, than that entertainment. Several other guests of
distinction were present, and the dinner was elaborate.

The conversation turned chiefly on county business, with an
occasional allusion to the war with France. Politics were entirely
eschewed, for party feeling ran too high for so dangerous a subject
to be broached at a gathering at which both whigs and tories were
present.

Rupert sat near one end of the table, with the eldest son of the
host. As a matter of course they kept absolute silence in an
assembly of their elders, only answering shortly and respectfully
when spoken to. When dinner was over, however, and the ladies rose,
they slipped away to a quiet room, and made up for their long
silence by chatting without cessation of their dogs, and hawks, and
sports, until at six o'clock the coach came round to the door, and
Rupert, again donning his cloak and riding boots, mounted his
horse, and rode slowly off after the carriage.

Slow as the progress had been in the daytime, it was slower now.
The heavy coach jolted over great lumps of rough stone, and bumped
into deep ruts, with a violence which would shake a modern vehicle
to pieces. Sometimes, where the road was peculiarly bad, the
lackeys would get down, light torches at the lanterns that hung
below the box, and show the way until the road improved.

They had ridden about six miles, when some distance ahead the sound
of pistol shots, followed by loud shouts, came sharply on the ear.
Rupert happened to be in front, and with the love of adventure
natural to his age, he set spurs to his horse and dashed forward,
not hearing, or at any rate not heeding, the shouts of his
grandfather. Colonel Holliday, finding that Rupert was fairly off,
bade the lackeys get down, and follow him at a run with their
pistols, and urged the coachman to drive on with all possible
speed. Rupert was not long in reaching the scene of action; and
hurried the more that he could hear the clinking of sword blades,
and knew that the resistance of those assailed had not ceased.

On arriving at the spot he saw, as he expected, a carriage standing
by the road. One or two figures lay stretched on the ground; the
driver lay back, a huddled mass, on his seat; a man held high a
torch with one hand, while with the other he was striving to
recharge a pistol. Four other men with swords were attacking a
gentleman who, with his back to the coach, was defending himself
calmly and valiantly.

As he rode up Rupert unbuttoned his riding cloak, and threw it off
as he reined up his horse and dismounted. An execration broke from
the assailants at seeing this new arrival, but perceiving that he
was alone, one of the four men advanced to attack him.

Just as Rupert leapt from his horse, the man holding the torch
completed the loading of his pistol, and levelling it at him,
fired. The ball knocked off his hat just as he touched the ground,
and the man shouted:

"Kill him, Gervais. Spit him like a lark; he is only a boy."

Rupert drew his sword as the highwayman advanced upon him, and was
in a moment hotly engaged. Never before had he fenced with pointed
rapiers; but the swords had scarcely crossed when he felt, with the
instinct of a good fencer, how different were the clumsy thrusts of
his opponent to the delicate and skillful play of his grandfather
and Monsieur Dessin. There was no time to lose in feints and
flourishes; the man with the torch had drawn his sword, and was
coming up; and Rupert parried a thrust of his assailant's, and with
a rapid lunge in tierce ran him right through the body. Then with a
bound he dashed through the men attacking the traveller, and took
his stand beside him, while the torchbearer, leaving his torch
against a stump of a tree, also joined the combat.

Beyond a calm "I thank you, sir; your arrival is most opportune,"
from the traveller, not a word passed as the swords clashed and
ground against each other.

"Dash in, and finish him," shouted the man who appeared the leader
of the assailants, and three of them rushed together at the
traveller. The leader fell back cursing, with a sword thrust
through his shoulder, just at the moment when Rupert sent the sword
of the man who was attacking him flying through the air, and
turning at once, engaged one of the two remaining assailants of the
traveller. But these had had enough of it; and as the lackeys came
running up, they turned, and rushed away into the darkness. The
lackeys at Rupert's order discharged their pistols after them; but
a moment later the sound of four horses making off at full gallop,
showed that they had escaped.

"By my faith," the traveller said, turning to Rupert, and holding
out his hand, "no knight errant ever arrived more opportunely. You
are a gallant gentleman, sir; permit me to ask to whom I am so
indebted?"

"My name is Rupert Holliday, sir," the lad said, as the stranger
shook his hand warmly, and who, as the lackey approached with the
torch, exclaimed:

"Why, by the king's head, you are but a stripling, and you have run
one of these fellows through the body, and disarmed the other, as
neatly as I ever saw it done in the schools. Why, young sir, if you
go on like this you will be a very Paladin."

"I have had good masters, sir," Rupert said, modestly; "and having
been taught to use my sword, there is little merit in trouncing
such rascals as these."

"By my faith, but there is though," the stranger said. "It is one
thing to fence in a school with buttoned foils, another to bear
oneself as calmly and as well as you did. But here are your
friends, or I mistake not."

The coach came lumbering up, at a speed which for coaches in those
days was wonderful, and as it stopped Colonel Holliday leapt out,
sword in hand.

"Is it all over?" he exclaimed. "Is Rupert hurt?"

"It is all over, sir; and I have not so much as a scratch," Rupert
said.

"Sir," the stranger said, uncovering, and making a courtly bow to
the old cavalier, and to Mistress Dorothy, who was looking from the
open door, "your son--"

"My grandson," the colonel, who had also uncovered, corrected.

"Your grandson arrived in time to save me from grievous peril. My
coachman and lackey were shot at the first fire, and I fancy one of
the horses. I disposed of one of the rascals, but four others
pressed me hard, while a fifth held a light to them. Your grandson
ran one through in fair fight, and disarmed another; I disabled a
third, and they ran. I have to thank him for my life; and, if you
will permit me to say so--and I have been many frays--no man ever
bore himself more coolly, or used his sword more skilfully, than
did this young gentleman."

"I am very proud indeed to hear that the lad bore himself so well;
although I own that he caused some anxiety to his mother and
myself; by rushing forward alone to join in a fray of whose extent
he knew nothing. However, all is well that ends well.

"And now, sir, as your servants are killed, and but one horse
remains to your carriage, will you permit me to offer you for the
night the hospitality of Windthorpe Chace? I am Colonel Holliday,
sir, an old servant of King Charles the First--"

"I accept your offer, sir, as frankly as it is made. I have often
heard your name. I, sir, am George Churchill."

"The Earl of Marlborough!" exclaimed Colonel Holliday.

"The same," the earl said, with a smile. "I am not greatly loved,
sir; but my name will, I am sure, do me no ill service with one of
the men of Naseby."

"No, indeed!" Colonel Holliday said, warmly; "it is at once a
pleasure and an honour to me to entertain so great a general at the
Chace."

"And now," the earl said, "a truce to compliments. Pray resume your
seat in the coach, sir. I will cut loose the horse from the coach,
and will follow you in company with your grandson."

Colonel Holliday in vain tried to persuade the earl to take his
place in the carriage.

The latter, however, firmly declined, and the colonel took his
place in the coach, and drove off at once, to make preparation for
the reception of his guest. The earl had even declined the offer to
leave one or both of the lackeys behind. And when the carriage had
driven off, he said to Rupert, who had stood looking with
respectful admiration at the greatest general of the age:

"Now, young sir, let us have a look at this carrion; maybe their
faces will throw some light upon this affair."

So saying, he took the torch which had been left burning, and
turned over the body of the man he had slain before Rupert arrived
on the scene.

"I do not know him," he said, looking steadily at the dead man's
face.

"I know him," Rupert exclaimed in surprise. "He is a saddler of
Derby--a fierce nonconformist and whig, and a preacher at
conventicles. And to think of his being a highwayman!"

"An assassin is a better term," the earl said contemptuously. "I
guessed from their number it was my life, and not my money, that
they sought.

"Now let us look at the fellow you sent to his account."

Rupert hung back as they approached the man he had killed. In those
days of rebellions, executions, and duels, human life was regarded
but lightly. Still, to a lad of little over fifteen the thought
that he had killed a man, even if in fair fight, was very painful.

"Ah, I thought so," the earl said. "This is a creature of a
political enemy. I have seen him in his antechamber. So the order
came from London, and the tools were found here. That will do. Now
let us get this horse out of the traces. It is some years since I
have ridden barebacked.

"No, I thank you," in answer to Rupert's offer of his own horse; "a
saddle matters not one way or the other. There, now for the Chace;
and I shall not be sorry to fall to on the supper which, I doubt
not, the good gentleman your grandfather will have prepared."

So saying, he vaulted on his horse, and with Rupert rode quietly
along the road to the Chace. The great door opened as they
approached, and four lackeys with torches came out. Colonel
Holliday himself came down the steps and assisted the earl to
alight, and led the way into the house.

They now entered the drawing room, where Mistress Dorothy was
seated. She arose and made a deep courtesy, in answer to the even
deeper bow with which the earl greeted her.

"My lord," she said, "welcome to Windthorpe Chace."

"Madam," the earl said, bowing over the hand she extended, until
his lips almost touched her fingers, "I am indeed indebted to the
fellows who thought to do me harm, in that they have been the means
of my making the acquaintance of a lady whose charms turned all
heads in London, and who left the court in gloom when she retired
to the country."

Nowadays, such a speech as this would be thought to savour of
mockery, but gentlemen two hundred years since ordinarily addressed
women in the language of high-flown compliment.

Mistress Holliday, despite her thirty-seven years, was still very
comely, and she smiled as she replied:

"My lord, ten years' absence from court has rendered me unused to
compliments, and I will not venture to engage in a war, even of
words, with so great a general."

Supper was now announced, and the earl offered his hand to lead
Mistress Dorothy to the dining hall.

The meal passed off quietly, the conversation turning entirely upon
country matters. The earl did full justice to the fare, which
consisted of a stuffed carp, fresh from the well-stocked ponds of
the Chace, a boar's head, and larded capon, the two latter dishes
being cold. With these were served tankards of Burgundy and of
sherries. Rupert, as was the custom of the younger members of
families, waited upon the honoured guest.

The meal over, Mistress Holliday rose. The earl offered her his
hand and led her to the door, where, with an exchange of
ceremonious salutes, she bade him goodnight.

Then the earl accompanied Colonel Holliday to the latter's room,
hung with rapiers, swords, and other arms. There ceremony was laid
aside, and the old cavalier and the brilliant general entered into
familiar talk, the former lighting a long pipe, of the kind known
at present as a "churchwarden."

The earl told Colonel Holliday of the discovery that had been made,
that the attack was no mere affair with highwaymen, but an attempt
at assassination by a political rival.

"I had been down," he said, "at Lord Hadleigh's, where there was a
gathering of many gentlemen of our way of thinking. I left London
quietly, and thought that none knew of my absence; but it is clear
that through some spy in my household my enemies learned both my
journey and destination. I came down on horseback, having sent
forward relays. When I arrived last night at Hadleigh my horse was
dead lame. I misdoubt now 'twas lamed in the stable by one of the
men who dogged me. Lord Hadleigh offered me his coach, to take me
back the first stage--to the inn where I had left my servants and
had intended to sleep. I accepted--for in truth I sat up and talked
all last night, and thought to doze the journey away. Your
Derbyshire roads are, however, too rough, and I was wide awake when
the first shot was fired!"

"Do you think of taking steps to punish the authors of this
outrage?" Colonel Holliday asked.

"By no means," the earl answered. "I would ask you to send over a
man, with the horse I rode on and another, at daybreak. Let him put
them into the coach and drive back to Hadleigh, taking with him the
bodies of the lackey and coachman. With him I will send a note to
my lord, asking that no stir be made in the matter. We need not set
the world talking as to my visit to his house; but lest any
magistrate stir in the matter, I will leave a letter for him,
saying that the coach in which I travelled was attacked by
highwaymen, and that two of them, as well as the two servants, were
killed, and that no further inquisition need be made into the
matter. You may be sure that the other side will say naught, and
they will likely enough go back and carry off their dead tonight,
and bury them quietly."

"Very well, sir," Colonel Holliday said. "My grandson will ride
over with you in the morning to Ashby-de-la-Zouche. Two well-armed
lackeys shall accompany you."

"Oh, there is no fear of another attempt," the earl said, smiling.
"Besides, your grandson and I could fight a whole troop of
cutthroats by daylight. What a swordsman that boy is! And as cool
as a veteran! He is your pupil with the sword, I presume?"

"Only partly; he owes most of his skill to a French emigre, who
calls himself Monsieur Dessin, but who had, I suspect, a far higher
title across the water. He is a magnificent swordsman; and as I was
able to teach the lad a few thrusts which in their time did me good
service, and the boy has a clear eye, a cool head, and a firm
wrist, he can, young as he is, hold his own, go where he will."

"What do you mean to do with him? You ought to make a soldier of
him. It is the career of a gentleman, and we shall have a stirring
campaign on the Rhine next spring. He will have plenty of
opportunities to distinguish himself, and I need not say he will
have my best favour and protection!"

"I thank you heartily," the colonel said, "and doubt not that one
day the lad may claim the fulfilment of your promise. At present
his mother dreams of his being a Parliament man, and shining at
court. But you might as well expect to teach a falcon to dance.
Besides, the lad is a soldier heart and soul, and has, saving your
presence, little of the whig in him; and his mother will find ere
long, that if he goes to Parliament it will not be to vote as she
wishes.

"Besides," he said, moodily, "I foresee changes here which he,
young as he is, will not brook. If then at present I decline your
kind offer in his name, I think that the time is not far off when
he may remind you of it."

"Let him do so," the earl said, "and a commission in horse, foot,
or artillery is at his service. And now, with your permission, I
will to bed, for my eyelids are consumedly heavy."

Colonel Holliday rang a hand bell, and a lackey appeared with
lighted candles. Preceded by him the old cavalier accompanied his
guest to the door of his apartment, and seeing that a posset cup of
spiced cordial was steaming on the table, and that everything else
was properly prepared, left him to repose.



Chapter 3: A Kiss and its Consequences.

Three months have passed since the Earl of Marlborough's visit to
the Chace. Changes have taken place in England, for on the eighth
of March King William died from the effects of a fall from his
horse, and the Princess Anne ascended the throne. After her
accession, one of her first steps had been to shower honour upon
the Earl of Marlborough. A whig cabinet was formed, of which he and
Lord Godolphin were the leading spirits, two tories however--Harley
and Saint John--having seats in the ministry.

The Earl of Marlborough was her most trusted adviser. He had during
the reign of the late monarch been always a firm friend of the
Princess Anne, and was at one time regarded almost as a tory. He
had indeed plotted for the restoration of the Stuarts, and had
entered into negotiation with the French king for that purpose. The
plot having been discovered, he had with other noblemen been sent
to the Tower, and had continued in disgrace until a year after the
death of William.

Anne appointed him one of her ministers, and made the duchess her
most intimate friend. In fact, in politics the Duke of Marlborough
took no very strong part. He was attached to the Stuarts, for under
them he had at first risen to rank and honour; but he was a strong
Protestant, and therefore in favour of the maintenance of the Act
of Succession, fixing the reversion of the throne on the Elector of
Hanover, who, although not the nearest in the line of succession,
had been selected because the nearest heirs to the throne were
Catholics.

At the Chace things have gone on as before. Rupert has worked hard
at his lessons and his fencing, and Monsieur Dessin allows that,
save for his extra length of reach, he should have no advantage now
over his pupil. In the afternoon the lad spent his time with his
hawks, or practised firing with pistol or carbine, or roamed over
the country with Hugh.

Nevertheless, things had somehow changed. Colonel Holliday had
become gloomy and silent; and although he and his daughter-in-law
were studiously ceremonious and polite to each other, it was clear
that a cloud had risen between them. Rupert saw but little of this,
however, and was surprised one day when, as he was going out for a
ride, his grandfather said to him gravely:

"Take a turn in the garden with me, Rupert. I want to have a talk
with you.

"I think it well, Rupert," he said, after walking for some time in
silence, "to prepare you for what, if you have not guessed already,
you will be told ere long. Madam will no doubt herself inform you
of it; and it is as well, my lad, that you should be prepared, for
you might in your surprise say something hasty, and so cause a
breach which it would take long to heal."

Rupert looked in astonishment at his grandfather. He had not the
most remote idea of what was coming.

"You have doubtless noticed," Colonel Holliday went on, "the
frequency of Sir William Brownlow's visits here?"

"Yes, sir, I have noticed that, but I do not often see him. I keep
out of his way, for in truth I like him not, nor that son of his,
who, on the strength of his three years' seniority, looks down upon
me, and gives himself as many airs as madam my mother's peacock."

"And you have never even thought why he comes here so frequently?"

"No, sir," Rupert said, surprised; "it was no business of mine, and
I gave no single thought to it."

"He is a suitor for your lady mother's hand," Colonel Holliday
said, gravely.

"What!" almost shouted Rupert; "What, sir! He, with his sneering
face, dares to think--"

"My dear boy, he not only dares to think, but madam approves of the
thought, and has promised him her hand."

Rupert stood motionless.

"It shall not be," he burst out. "We must stop it, sir. Why do not
you?"

"I have no shadow of authority over Mistress Holliday," the old
colonel said. "As far as I could go, for your sake I have
gone--farther, perhaps, than was wise. It has been a great blow for
me, Rupert. I had hoped that in the time to come you would be
master of the Chace, and of all the broad acres I owned when young;
now it will never be. This house and the home farm are mine, and
will be yours, lad; but the outlying land will never come back to
the Chace again, but will go to swell the Haugh estate on the other
side. My lady can leave it as she likes. I have begged her to have
it settled upon you, but she has declined. She may have another
family, and, infatuated as she is with her suitor, she is more
likely to leave it to them than to you, especially as I fear that
you will not take kindly to the new arrangement."

"I will not submit to it, sir; I will not have it. I will insult
him, and force him to fight me," the lad gasped, his face white
with passion.

"No, Rupert, it won't do, lad. Were you four or five years older
you might interfere; now he would laugh at you for a headstrong
boy. You would gain his hate, and forfeit your mother's favour
utterly. It was because I feared an outbreak like this that I told
you today what you will in a few hours learn from her."

"What is to be done?" Rupert said, despairingly.

"Nothing, my boy. At her marriage, your mother will of course live
at the Haugh with Sir William. This house is mine, and if you
cannot get on at the Haugh, it will be always open to you."

"I will never set my foot inside the Haugh," Rupert said, firmly.
"My lady mother may leave her lands where she will; but if I am to
have them only at the price of being the humble servant of this new
father-in-law, I care not for them. He has an evil face,
grandfather, and I hated him before I knew what he came for."

"My boy," Colonel Holliday said, "we have all many things to go
through in life that we like not. This is your trial, and I trust
that you will come out of it worthily. Your respect and duty are
due to your mother. If you will not feign gladness that you do not
feel, I do not blame you; but when she tells you the news, answer
her with that respect which you owe her. She has a clear right to
choose for herself. She is still a comely dame, and no one will
blame her for taking another husband. To me and to you the thing
may seem hard, even unnatural, but it is not so. I like Sir William
no more than you do. Report says that he has deeply dipped into his
estates over the dice box; and your lady mother's estates, and the
sum that many years of quiet living has enabled her to save, are
doubtless items which he has not overlooked."

Rupert remained for some time silent.

"I will be perfectly respectful to my mother," he said, "but I will
not disguise my feelings. If I did so at first, it would in the end
be useless, for Sir William I could never treat with respect.
Sooner or later a quarrel would come, and I may therefore as well
have it understood first as last. The estates I care for only
because they were part of the Chace, and I know that they will
never be mine if this match is made. You feel that yourself, do you
not, sir?"

"Yes," the colonel said, reluctantly, "I have felt that all along."

"Very well, sir," Rupert said; "in that case I have nothing to gain
by affecting a satisfaction at this match. I shall respectfully but
firmly warn my mother against it, and tell her that if she persists
in it I will never put my foot under the roof of Sir William
Brownlow."

The next morning the servant brought word to Rupert, that Mistress
Holliday wished to speak to him in her room. Knowing what was
coming, Rupert went with slow steps and a heavy heart to the little
drawing room which was known as madam's room.

"Rupert," she said, as he stood respectfully before her, "I have
sent for you to tell you that I have accepted the offer of marriage
of Sir William Brownlow. Sir William has much court influence, and
will be able to do you much service, and he has promised me to look
upon you as a son of his own."

"Madam." Rupert said, calmly and respectfully, "that you should
marry Sir William Brownlow is a matter as to which, alas! I have no
right to say aught. I trust that the marriage will bring you
happiness, although my mind sorely misgives me as to whether it
will be so. As to myself, I decline Sir William's offer of
protection. It is enough for me that my fathers have for
generations owned Windthorpe Chace. Come what may, madam, I neither
acknowledge Sir William as my father, nor do I put a foot under his
roof."

"Malapert boy!" Mistress Holliday said angrily, "this is the
teaching of Colonel Holliday."

"Pardon me," Rupert said quietly. "Colonel Holliday begged me to
submit to what could not be helped; but I declined. This man is not
worthy of you, madam. Were you about to marry a good man, I would
gladly receive him as my father. I should be glad to know when out
in the world that you were cared for and happy; but this is not a
good man."

"Hush, sir," Mistress Holliday said. "I will not suffer you to
speak thus. And know, Rupert, if you do not know it already, that I
have absolute power over the estates of the Chace, and that if you
defy me I can leave them where I will."

"I know it, madam," Rupert said, sadly; "but this will in no way
alter my determination. If when you marry you give me your
permission to remain here with my grandfather, I will do so. If
not, I will go forth into the world to seek my fortune."

"Insolent boy!" Mistress Holliday said, furiously, "I have a mind
to call the lackeys in and bid them beat you."

"Madam," Rupert said, drawing himself up and touching his sword
lightly, "if you value your lackeys you will give no such order;
for the first man, lackey or lord, who lays his hand on me, I would
kill like a dog. With your permission, madam, I will retire, since
this morning I take my dancing lesson."

So saying, with a ceremonious bow Rupert left his mother's
presence. Monsieur Dessin and his daughter were already with
Colonel Holliday when Rupert joined them, and he went through his
dancing lesson as usual. Then Adele went as usual out into the
garden, and the fencing lesson began. When it was half over,
Rupert's brow clouded angrily, for he heard horsemen ride up to the
door, and felt sure who they were.

"Steady, my dear pupil, steady," Monsieur Dessin cried, as with
knitted brow Rupert pressed him hotly, fancying at the moment that
Sir William Brownlow stood in front of him.

"Peste!" he exclaimed, as the lad lunged and touched him in the
chest, "you are terrible, Monsieur!

"Colonel," he went on, dropping his sword, "I resign my post. I
have seen it coming for some time, and now it has arrived. Your
grandson is more than a match for me. He has all my skill, some of
yours, and has besides an activity and suppleness greater, I think,
than I ever had. You young islanders are trained to use hand and
eye; and although French lads may have as much activity, they have
far less strength, far less aptitude for such exercises. Besides,
there are other reasons.

"Go, Monsieur Rupert, and take care of my daughter; I would talk
with monsieur your grandfather."

Slowly, and brooding over the change which the late twenty-four
hours had made in his fortune, Rupert sought the garden. As he
sauntered along the walks he heard a cry, and looking up saw Adele
struggling in the arms of James Brownlow, who was trying to kiss
her, while a young fellow his own age stood by laughing. Rupert's
pent-up fury found a vent at last, and rushing forward, he struck
the aggressor so violent a blow between the eyes that, loosing his
hold of Adele, he fell to the ground.

"Thunder and lightning," the other young man exclaimed, drawing his
sword, "what means this, young cockerel?"

Rupert's sword flew from its sheath, but before he could cross it,
James Brownlow sprang to his feet and crying to his friend, "Stand
back! I will spit the saucy knave!" rushed upon Rupert.

The swords clashed, and almost simultaneously Brownlow's weapon
flew far through the air.

With a cry of fury he ran to fetch it, while his companion burst
into a coarse laugh.

Rupert did not move from his position, but stood passive, until his
antagonist again rushed at him.

"Mind this time," Rupert said, between his teeth, "for I will kill
you like a dog."

Warned by the lesson, James Brownlow fought more carefully; but he
was too enraged to continue these tactics long, and after a short
bout he lunged furiously. Rupert turned aside the point and
straightened his arm, and his antagonist fell to the ground, run
completely through the body.

"You are a witness that I killed him in fair fight," Rupert said,
turning to the young man, who gazed stupefied at the body of his
comrade, and then sheathing his sword bounded away to the stables.

Hugh was there.

"Quick, Hugh; saddle Ronald. I have just killed young Brownlow, and
must ride for it."

Hugh stood for a moment astonished, and then calling a helper ran
into the stables. In a minute he came out with two horses saddled.
Without a word Rupert leapt on one, while he vaulted on the other,
and the two dashed off at full speed.

"Where are you going, Master Rupert?"

"To London," Rupert said. "This is no place for me now. I killed
him in fair fight, and after warning; still, what with Sir William
and my lady mother, there will be no stopping here. You had better
ride back, Hugh, and tell my grandfather, privately, that I am
going to the Earl of Marlborough, to ask him to give me the
cornetcy he promised me."

"With your leave, Master Rupert, I shall do nothing of the sort.
Where you go, I go. My grandfather rode out with yours to Naseby,
and died there. My people have been the tenants of the Chace as
long as the Hollidays have been its lords, and have always followed
their master to the field. My old father would beat me out of the
house with a broom handle, if I went back and said I had let you go
to the wars alone. No, master Rupert, wherever you go, Hugh Parsons
goes too."

Rupert held out his hand, which his companion grasped, and the two
galloped rapidly along the road towards London.

In the meantime all was consternation at the Chace.

Colonel Holliday and Monsieur Dessin were deeply engaged in
conversation when Adele burst in upon them.

"Quick, quick!" she exclaimed, "Monsieur Rupert is fighting with a
wicked young man!"

"Then," said Monsieur Dessin grimly, "it will be very bad for the
wicked young man, whoever he is."

"Where are they?" exclaimed Colonel Holliday.

"In the garden," the girl said, bursting into tears. "The wicked
young man was rude to me, and wanted to kiss me, and Monsieur
Rupert knocked him down, and then they began to fight, and I ran
away."

Monsieur Dessin swore a very deep oath in French, and was about to
hurry out with Colonel Holliday. Then he stopped, and putting his
hand on the colonel's shoulder, said coldly:

"Do not let us hurry, sir. Monsieur Rupert has taken the matter in
his hands. It is as well that he should kill this fellow as that I
should have to do so."

Just at this moment they reached the door, and a young man came
running up to the house shouting:

"Young Mr. Brownlow is killed. Help! help!"

"I think, Monsieur Dessin," Colonel Holliday said, stopping, "it
would be as well if you and mademoiselle were for the present to
leave us. There will be trouble enough, and the fewer in it the
better. Sir William is a hot man, and you are not a cool one.
Enough mischief has been done."

"You are right," Monsieur Dessin said. "Will you tell Monsieur
Rupert that so long as my arm can lift a sword it is at his
service, and that I am his debtor for life.

"Come, Adele, let us leave by the front of the house."

Colonel Holliday now hurried out into the garden, just as Sir
William Brownlow, accompanied by his son's friend, rushed out of
the house, followed by some lackeys with scared faces.

Not a word was spoken as they ran to the spot where young Brownlow
was lying.

Sir William and Colonel Holliday both knelt beside him, and the
latter put his finger to his pulse.

"He is not dead," he said, after a moment. "Ralph, saddle a horse,
and ride with all speed to Derby for a doctor."

"Ay," Sir William said, "and tell the chief magistrate that he is
wanted here, with one of his constables, for that murder has been
done."

"You will do nothing of the sort," Colonel Holliday said.

"Sir William Brownlow, I make every excuse for you in your grief,
but even from you I will permit no such word to be used. Your son
has been wounded in fair fight, and whether he dies or not, alters
the circumstances no whit. My grandson found him engaged in
offering a gross insult to a young lady in the garden of my house.
He did what I should have done had I so found him--he knocked him
down. They fought, and your son was worsted. I think, sir, that for
the credit of your house you had best be quiet over the matter.

"Hush, sir," he went on sternly, seeing that the baronet was about
to answer furiously. "I am an old man, but I will put up with
bluster from no man."

Colonel Holliday's repute as a swordsman was well known, and Sir
William Brownlow swallowed his passion in silence. A door was taken
off its hinges, and the insensible young man was carried into the
house. There he was received by Mistress Holliday, who was vehement
in her reproaches against Rupert, and even against Colonel
Holliday, who had, as she said, encouraged him in brawling.

The colonel bent quietly before the storm; and leaving the wounded
man in the care of his daughter-in-law and the attendants, made his
way to the stables, to inquire what had become of Rupert. There he
found that a few minutes before, Rupert, accompanied by Hugh
Parsons, had ridden off at full speed, having placed valises and a
brace of pistols in the holsters on their saddles. The colonel was
glad to hear that Rupert had his humble friend with him, and
doubted not that he had made for London. With a somewhat lightened
heart he went back to the house.

After galloping fast for the first two miles, Rupert drew rein, for
he had now time to think, and was assured that even should Sir
William at once send into Derby for a warrant for his apprehension,
he would be across the borders of the county long before he could
be overtaken.

"Have you any money with you, Hugh?" he asked, suddenly; "for I
have not a penny with me."

"I have only two shillings, Master Rupert. I got that yesterday in
Derby for a nest of young owlets I found in the copse."

Rupert reined up his horse in dismay.

"Two shillings between us, Hugh! And it is 126 miles to London.
What are we to do?"

Hugh thought a moment. "We can't go on with that, sir. Do you take
these two shillings and ride on to the Red Dragon. You will be
outside the county there. I will ride back to father's. It's under
two miles, and I shall be back here in half-an-hour again. He will
give me any money he may have in the house. I may as well fill my
valise too, while I am about it; and he's got a pair of pistols,
too, that he will give me."

It was clearly the best course to take, and Rupert trotted forward
on his way, while Hugh galloped back at full speed. In a quarter of
an hour the latter drew rein at his father's door.

"Hullo, Hugh, lad," the farmer, a hearty man of some fifty years of age,
said, as he came to the door, "be'est thou? What art doing on the
squire's horse? He looks as if thou had ridden him unmercifully, surely?"

In a few words Hugh related what had taken place, and told him of
his own offer to go to the wars with Rupert.

"That's right, lad; that's right and proper. It's according to the
nature of things that when a Holliday rides to the war a Parsons
should ride behind him. It's always been so, and will always be so,
I hope. Mother will grieve, no doubt; but she won't want to fly in
the face of nature.

"Here, mother, come out. Master Rupert's killed Sir William
Brownlow's son, and is off to the wars, and so our Hugh's,
natural-like, going with him."

Mrs. Parsons after her first ejaculation of surprise burst into
tears, but, as her husband had predicted, offered no objection
whatever to what seemed to her, as to him, a matter of plain duty
on the part of her son. Hugh now explained the reason of his
return.

"Ay, ay, lad; thou shalt have the money. I've got fifty pounds for
next quarter's rent. Colonel Holliday will be glad enough for some
of it to go to his grandson. I'll gin ye half o't, Hugh, and take
my chance of the colonel agreeing to it. I'll give'e as much more
out of my old stocking upstairs. Put it carefully by, lad. Money is
as useful in war as at other times, and pay ain't always regular;
maybe the time may come when the young master may be short of
money, and it may come in useful. Now put on thy riding coat; and
mother will put thy best clothes in a valise.

"Bustle up, mother, there bain't no time to lose."

Thus addressed, Mrs. Parsons dried her tears and hurried away.
Hugh, hitching the bridle over a hook, made his way to his room to
change his clothes. When he came down, all was ready.

"Thy clothes are in the valise, Hugh. I have put on the holsters,
and the pistols are in them. They are loaded, boy. In the bottom of
one are the master's twenty-five pounds. Thy own money is in the
valise. Here, boy, is my father's sword; it hasn't been used since
Naseby, but it's a good blade. Thou art a deft hand at quarterstaff
and singlestick, though, and I doubt not that thy hands can guard
thy head. I need not say, Hugh Parsons, you will, if need be, die
for thy master, for I know thou will do it, lad. Now kiss thy
mother, boy; and God speed you."

A long embrace with his father and mother, and then Hugh, blinded
by his tears, mounted his horse, and rode off in the track of
Rupert.

After an hour's sharp riding he overtook him, at a wayside inn,
just across the boundary between Derby and Leicestershire.

"Is it all right, Hugh?" he asked, as Hugh drew up at the door.

"All right, Master Rupert. Father has sent thee twenty-five pounds
out of the rent that will be due at Lady day; and he doubts not
that the colonel will approve of what he has done. H ow long have
you been here?"

"Only some five minutes, Hugh. We had best let the horses feed, and
then ride quietly into Leicester, it's only fifteen miles away. I
see you've got a sword."

"A sword and pistols, Master Rupert; and as you have the same,
methinks any highwayman chaps we might meet would think twice ere
they venture to cry 'Stand and deliver.'"

"You heard no word of whether James Brownlow was alive or dead,
Hugh? I should be very glad to hear that he is not killed."

"No word of the matter had come to the farm when I came away," Hugh
said; "but I should not worry about it one way or the other, Master
Rupert. You'll kill lots more when you get to the wars; and the
country won't grieve over James Brownlow. Young as he was, he was a
bad one; I've heard more than one dark story whispered of him.
Folks say he took after his father, who was as wild and as bad as
any man in Derbyshire when he was young."



Chapter 4: The Sedan Chair.

"This is our last stage, Hugh, and tonight we shall be in London,"
Rupert said, as they rode out of Watford. "Methinks we shall find
it very strange in that great city. I am glad I thought of asking
our host the name of an inn at which to put up. The Bell in
Bishopsgate Street, he said. It will seem less strange asking the
way there than it would be to be wandering about gazing for a place
at which to alight."

"Ay, truly, Master Rupert; and I've heard say those London folk are
main fond of making game of strangers."

"So I have heard, Hugh; any reasonable jest we had best put up with
with good temper. If they push it too far, we shall be able, I
doubt not, to hold our own. The first thing to do will be to get
clothes of the cut in vogue, for I have come away just as I stood;
and I fear that even your clothes will have a marvellously country
air about them in the eyes of the city folk.

"There is London," he said, as they passed over the crest of
Hampstead Hill. "That great round dome that stands up so high must
be Saint Paul's; and look how many other church towers and spires
there are. And there, away to the right, those must be the towers
of Westminster."

"It is a big place, surely, Master Rupert. How many people do you
think live there?"

"I believe there are near 300,000 souls there, Hugh. It seems
wonderful, does it not?"

"It's too big to think of, Master Rupert," Hugh said, and they
continued their journey southward.

They entered the city at Aldersgate, but they had ridden some
distance through houses before they arrived at the boundary, for
the city was already spreading beyond its ancient limits. Once
inside the walls, the lads were astonished at the bustle and noise.

Hugh inquired the way to Bishopsgate Street of a respectable
citizen, who directed them to follow the road until they came to a
broad turning to their left. This would be Chepeside, and they were
to follow this until they came to the Exchange, a large building
straight in front of them. Passing this, they would find themselves
in Bishopsgate Street.

If Aldersgate Street had surprised them, much more were they
astonished at the din and turmoil of Chepeside, and Hugh, having
twice narrowly escaped riding over a citizen, and being soundly
rated for a country gawk, Rupert turned to him.

"Look at your horse's head, Hugh, and pay no attention to aught
else. When we have reached our destination, we shall have plenty of
time to look at all these wonders."

The advice was good, and without mischance they reached the Bell in
Bishopsgate Street, and rode into the yard. The host at once came
out, and after a momentary look of surprise at the youth of the new
arrivals, he asked Rupert courteously if he needed a room.

"Two rooms if it please you," Rupert said, "and together."

The host called a hostler, who at once took charge of the horses,
and led them to the stable, the lads first removing the valises and
holsters, which a servant carried up to their rooms.

"We would have supper," Rupert said; "and while that is preparing
we would, if it is not too late, order some clothes more in the
mode than these. Can you direct us to a tailor?"

"You cannot do better," the landlord said, "than visit my
neighbour, Master John Haliford. His shop is just opposite, and he
makes for many of our best city folk, and for more than one of the
gentry of the Court."

Rupert thanked him, and they crossed the street to the shop
indicated.

The landlord looked after them with a puzzled air.

"It is not often that Joe Miles cannot guess the quality and errand
of his guests, but this time he is floored. Has that young spark
run away from home? I hardly think so, for he speaks gravely, and
without haste; lads who have run away may generally be known by
their speaking in a hurry, and as if anxious. They are both well
mounted; the younger is clearly of the higher estate, although but
meanly dressed; nor does the other seem like his lackey. What are
they talking about outside neighbour Haliford's shop, I wonder? I
would give a silver penny to know. I will walk over presently, and
smoke a pipe with him, and hear what he thinks of them."

The conversation which the host of the Bell had wished he could
overhear was as follows:

Hugh began it.

"Look, Master Rupert, before we go into the shop, let us talk over
what you are going to order."

"I am going to order a walking suit, Hugh, and a court suit for
myself, and a suit for you."

"Yes, but what sort of a suit, Master Rupert?"

"I should say a walking suit, Hugh, such as would become a modest
citizen."

"That's just it, Master Rupert. So far you have treated me as a
friend; but now, sir, it must be different, for to do so any longer
would not be seemly. You are going to be an officer. I am going to
follow you as a trooper; but till we go to the war I must be
dressed as your retainer. Not a lackey, perhaps, but a sort of
confidential retainer. That will be best, Master Rupert, in every
way."

Rupert was silent for a moment.

"Well, Hugh, perhaps that would be best; but you must remember that
whatever we are before others, we are always friends when we are
alone."

"Very well," Hugh said, "that is understood; but you know that
alone or before others, I shall always be your faithful servant."

"What can I make you, sir?" the tailor asked, as the lads entered
his shop.

Master Haliford was a small man; neat in his dress; a little fussy
in manner. He was very upright, and seemed to look under rather
than through the pair of horn spectacles which he wore. His look
changed from affability to doubt as he took a nearer look at his
intending customers.

"I need a suit such as a gentleman might wear at court," Rupert
said, quietly, "and a walking or ordinary suit for myself; and a
suit such as would be worn by a trusted retainer for my friend
here."

The tailor put his head on one side, and rubbed his chin
thoughtfully.

"Have I had the honour of being recommended to you by the
honourable gentleman your father?" he asked.

"No, indeed," Rupert said. "It was mine host at the Bell, who
advised me that I could not do better than come to your shop."

"Ah, you are known to him, beyond doubt," John Haliford said,
brightening.

"No, indeed," Rupert answered. "He was a stranger to me to within
five minutes back."

"You must excuse my caution, young sir," John Haliford said, after
another minute's reflection; "but it is the custom of us London
tradesmen with those gentlemen who may honour us with their custom,
and whom we have not the honour of knowing, to require payment, or
at least a portion of payment, at the time of giving the order, and
the rest at the time of delivery of the goods. In your case, sir, I
am sure, an unnecessary piece of caution, but a rule from which I
never venture to go."

"That is only fair and right," Rupert said. "I will pay half now,
and the other half when the garments are completed; or if it please
you, will pay the whole in advance."

"By no means, by no means," the tailor said with alacrity; "one
third in advance is my rule, sir. And now, sir, what colour and
material do you affect?"

"As sober both in hue and in material as may be," Rupert said, "and
yet sufficiently in the fashion for me to wear in calling upon a
nobleman of the court."

"Pardon me," the tailor said, "but perhaps you would condescend to
take me into your confidence. There are noblemen, and noblemen. A
tory lord, for instance, is generally a little richer in his colour
than a whig nobleman, for these affect a certain sobriety of air.
With some again, a certain military cut is permitted, while with
others this would be altogether out of place."

"I am going to the Earl of Marlborough," Rupert said briefly.

"Dear me, dear me! Indeed now!" the little tailor said with an
instant and great accession of deference, for the Earl of
Marlborough was the greatest man in the realm. "Had your honour
mentioned that at first, I should not have ventured to hint at the
need for previous payment."

"What!" Rupert said, with a smile. "You would have broken your
fixed rule! Surely not, Master Haliford."

The tailor looked sharply at his young customer. Whoever he might
be, he was clearly no fool; and without more ado he brought forward
his patterns and bent himself to the work in hand.

Having chosen the colours and stuffs for the suits of clothes, the
lads returned to the Bell, where a supper of cold chicken and the
remains of a fine sirloin awaited them, with two tankards of
home-brewed ale. The next morning, before sallying out to see the
town, Rupert wrote to his grandfather, asking his pardon for
running away, expressing his intention of applying to the Earl of
Marlborough for a cornetcy of horse, and giving his address at the
Bell; asking him also to make his humble excuse to his lady mother,
and to assure her of his devotion and respect, although
circumstances had caused his apparent disobedience to her wishes.

Although there was a much greater amount of filial respect and
obedience expressed in those days than now, human nature has
differed but slightly in different ages of the world; and it is
probable that sons went their own way quite as much as they do now,
when there is very little talk either of obedience or respect.
Indeed, the implicit obedience, and almost servile respect, which
our forefathers expected from their sons, could not but in a great
number of cases drive the sons to be hypocrites as well as
undutiful; and our modern system of making our boys companions and
friends, of taking an interest in all they do, and in teaching them
to regard us as their natural advisers, has produced a generation
of boys less outwardly respectful, no doubt, but as dutiful, and
far more frank and truthful than those of the bygone times.

Rupert, finding that few of the citizens wore swords, and feeling
that in his present attire he would attract attention by so doing,
left his sword at the inn, and bought for Hugh and himself a couple
of stout sticks--Hugh's a cudgel which would be useful in a hand
well accustomed to singlestick, his own a cane of a wood such as he
had never before seen--light, strong, and stiff. He chose it
because it was well balanced in the hand. Then they sallied out
into Cornhill, past the Exchange, erected by the worshipful citizen
Sir Thomas Gresham, and then into Chepeside, where they were
astonished at the wealth and variety of the wares displayed in the
shops. Gazing into the windows, they frequently got into the way,
and were saluted many times with the query, "Where are you going,
stupids?" a question which Hugh was largely inclined to resent, and
would have done so had not Rupert told him that evidently they did
get into the way of the hurrying citizens, and that it was more
wise to put up with rudeness than to embark in a series of
quarrels, in which, moreover, as strangers they were likely to get
the worst of the dispute. Saint Paul's Cathedral, then but newly
finished, astonished them vastly with its size and magnificence,
and they returned to the midday dinner at the Bell delighted with
all that they had seen.

Asking the landlord how he would recommend them to pass the
afternoon, he said that they could do no better than take a boat at
London Bridge, and be rowed up to the village of Chelsea, where
many of the nobility did dwell, and then coming back to Westminster
might get out there, see the Abbey and the great Hall, and then
walk back along the Strand.

The lads followed the advice, and were soon delighted and surprised
with the great river, then pure and limpid, and covered with boats
proceeding rapidly in all directions, for it was at that time the
great highway of London. Tide was flowing and the river nearly
full, and having given their waterman the intimation that time did
not press, he rowed them very gently along in the centre of the
stream, pointing out to them, when they had passed above the limits
of the city, the various noblemen's houses scattered along the
banks of the river. Off Westminster the waterman ceased rowing, to
allow them to view the grand old Abbey; and then as they went on
again, they marvelled at the contrast of the low, deserted marshes
of Lambeth and Bankside, which contrasted so strongly with the
magnificence and the life they had left behind.

At Chelsea they admired the grand palace for the reception of old
soldiers, and then--for the tide was turning now--floated back to
Westminster. So long were they in going round the Abbey, and
examining the tombs of the kings, that it was getting dark when
they started eastward again, up past the Palace of Whitehall, and
then along the Strand. Already the distance between the city and
Westminster was connected with houses, and the junction of the two
cities had fairly taken place.

Dim oil lamps were lighted here and there as they went along, foot
passengers bore lanterns to enable them to pick their way across
rough places, and link men carried torches in front of sedan
chairs, in which ladies were being taken to fashionable
entertainments, which then commenced at six o'clock.

All this was new and amusing to the boys; and having gone into a
tavern near the Abbey, and partaken of some refreshment, they were
not pressed for time; and it was near eight before they seriously
thought of proceeding towards the city.

When a few hundred yards from Temple Bar, they heard a shouting and
a scream down one of the streets leading to the river. The street
was deserted, but down at the farther end they could see the flash
of sword blades, in the light of an oil lamp.

"Come along, Hugh; that is a woman's scream."

"Better not interfere, Master Rupert," Hugh said.

But Rupert had already darted off, and Hugh without a moment's
hesitation followed in his steps.

At the end of the street they came upon a sedan chair. The two
porters stood surlily against the wall, menaced by the drawn swords
of two men standing over them; while two other men--evidently of
higher rank, but enveloped in cloaks--were forcibly dragging a lady
from the chair. They had thrown a cloak over her head to drown her
cries.

As the lads came up, one of the men uttered a furious oath.

"Rolf, Simon! leave those fellows and keep these springalls back.
They are but boys. I will whistle when I am in the boat.

"Now, mistress!" and he began to carry the lady away.

As the lads arrived, the servitors--for such they were by their
appearance--leaving the chairmen, turned upon them. One of the
chairmen at once ran off as fast as his legs could carry him; but
the other, a sturdy fellow, leaped on the back of the man who had
been guarding him, as the latter turned upon Rupert. Hugh was
attacked by the other.

"Be careful, Hugh! keep out of reach of his point," Rupert cried;
and darting past, he struck the man who had hold of the lady a
sharp blow across the ankle, which brought him instantly to the
ground with his burden.

The other gentleman drew his sword, and rushed upon Rupert. It was
fortunate for the latter that he had chosen his stick for lightness
and balance, for it moved as quickly and easily as a foil. Without
a thought of guarding, his assailant rushed at him to run him
through; but Rupert parried the thrust, and in turn drove the end
of his stick, with all his force, into his opponent's stomach. The
man instantaneously doubled up with a low cry, and fell on the
ground.

Then the other man, who had by this time risen to his feet, in turn
rushed furiously at Rupert. A few times the sword and stick scraped
and rasped against each other, and then Rupert lunged full at the
other's face.

There was a loud cry, an oath, and then, as the sound of the watch
running down the street, led by the chairman who had run away, was
heard, the man took to his feet and fled. The lackey who had
engaged Hugh, and who had in vain endeavoured to get to close
quarters with the lad, imitated his example; but the prostrate man
on the ground, and the fellow held by the chairman, were seized by
the watch.

Rupert turned to the young lady, who, having now disencumbered
herself of the folds of the cloak over her head, was leaning, half
fainting, against the chair.

Taking off his hat and bowing deeply, he expressed his hope that
she had suffered no harm through the unmannerly assault upon her.

"I thank you greatly, sir," she said, speaking with a slightly
foreign accent. "I am unhurt, although somewhat breathless. I owe
you my deep gratitude for rescue from these evil-minded men."

"What may be your name, mistress?" one of the watch asked. "You
will be needed tomorrow to testify against these men."

"My name is Maria Von Duyk, and I reside at present with the worthy
alderman, Peter Hawkins, to whom I was returning in the chair, as
the chairmen will tell you, after a visit to Mistress Vanloct,
whose house we had just left when molested."

"And yours, young sir?" the watchman asked.

"My name is Rupert Holliday. I am staying at the Bell, in
Bishopsgate Street."

"You will both have to be present tomorrow morning before the
worshipful magistrate Master Forman, at Westminster."

The watch now secured the man on the ground, who was recovering
from the effect of the violent thrust in the stomach, and putting
handcuffs on him and the other, led them away.

"You will permit me, I trust, to escort you to your door," Rupert
said, as he ceremoniously handed the young lady into her chair.

"Yes, indeed, sir; and I trust that you will enter, and allow Dame
Hawkins to add her thanks to mine."

Rupert bowed, and the chair being closed the chairmen lifted it,
and with Rupert and Hugh following, proceeded eastward.

When they arrived at the house of Alderman Hawkins, in Lawrence
Pulteney, the young lady on alighting begged Rupert to enter; but
the latter excused himself on account of the hour, but said that he
would call next morning, and would, if allowed, accompany her and
the alderman to give evidence as to the assault.

On arriving next morning, Rupert was overwhelmed with thanks by the
alderman, his wife, and Mistress Maria Von Duyk, all of whom were
much surprised at his youth, for in the dim light of the preceding
evening the young lady had not perceived that her rescuer was a
mere lad.

Rupert found that there was no occasion to go before the
magistrate, for the alderman having sent down early to the watch
house to inquire at what hour their presence would be required,
found that the prisoners had been rescued, on their way to the
watch house, by a party of armed men.

"We are," the alderman said, "well aware who was the leader of the
assailants, the man who escaped. Sir Richard Fulke is a ruined
gamester, and is a distant relation of Dame Vanloct, whom my young
friend was yesterday visiting. Knowing the wealth of Mistress Von
Duyk's good father, he has sought to mend his ruined fortune by a
match with her. At the urgent request of Mistress Von Duyk I wrote
to him, saying that his attentions were unpleasing to her, and that
they must be discontinued, or that she could no longer visit at
Dame Vanloct's where she usually had met him. This was a week
since. He replied courteously, regretting that the deep devotion he
felt was unrequited, but withdrawing from the undertaking of trying
to win her, and promising that henceforth she should be no longer
troubled with his presence when she visited Dame Vanloct. This was
of course done to lull our suspicion. When the chair was stopped
yesterday, Maria at once recognized his voice. As they dragged her
from the chair, he said:

"'Quick! hurry her down to the boat.'

"There is no doubt upon my mind that he intended to carry her off,
and to compel her to marry him. I bethought me at first of applying
to the secretary of state for a warrant for his arrest to answer
for this outrage, but Mistress Maria leaves us tomorrow for
Holland, and the process would delay her departure, and would cause
a scandal and talk very unpleasant to herself, and which would
greatly offend my good friend her father. Had the men in custody
been brought up this morning, there would have been no choice but
to have carried the matter through. It was then a relief to us to
find that they had escaped. I have told you this, young sir, as
your due after having rescued Mistress Von Duyk from so great a
peril. Now, as to yourself, believe me if my friendship and
assistance can in any way advantage you, they are at your service.
Even of your name I am yet in ignorance."

Rupert thanked the worthy alderman, and then stated that he was the
grandson of Colonel Holliday, of Windthorpe Chace, in Derbyshire,
and had come up to London to wait upon the Earl of Marlborough, who
had promised him his protection and a cornetcy in a regiment of
horse for service in Holland.

"In that case, sir," Mistress Von Duyk said, "it is like you may
come to Dort. If so, believe me that my father, whom I shall tell
how much we are indebted to you, will not be backward in
manifesting his gratitude for the great service that you have
rendered to his daughter."

"How were you thinking of passing the day?" the alderman asked.

"I had no plan," Rupert said. "In truth, I am waiting to call upon
the Earl of Marlborough until Master Haliford has fashioned me a
suit of clothes fitted for such an occasion; he has promised them
for this evening."

"Would it please you to go down the river? I have a boat, and if
you would like to see the shipping of this great port, and the
palace at Greenwich for our seamen, my boatmen will take you down;
and you will, I trust, return and take your midday meal with us."

And so it was arranged; and as Rupert and Hugh were rowed down the
river, lost in wonder at the numerous craft that lay there, Hugh
admitted that Rupert's interference in a business which was no
concern of his had turned out a fortunate occurrence.



Chapter 5: The Fencing School.

It was with no small trepidation that Rupert Holliday ascended the
steps of the Earl of Marlborough's residence in Pall Mall. Hugh
accompanied him thus far and stopped at the door, outside which, in
the courtyard and in the hall, were standing many lackeys who had
attended their masters. Rupert felt very young, and the somewhat
surprised looks of the servants in the hall at his appearance added
to his feeling of youth. He was shown into an antechamber, where a
number of officers of all ranks, of courtiers, and politicians,
were assembled, talking in groups. Rupert felt alone and
uncomfortable among this crowd of distinguished men, none of whom
did he know, and no one paid the smallest attention to him. He had
on entering written his name down in a book in the hall, whence it
would be taken in with others to the great man.

Presently an officer in general's uniform came out from an inner
room, and an instant afterwards the earl himself appeared. Not only
was John Churchill one of the most handsome men in Europe, but he
was the most courtly and winning in manner; and Rupert, shrinking
back from observation, watched with admiration as he moved round
the room, stopping to say a few words here, shaking hands there,
listening to a short urgent person, giving an answer to a petition,
before presented, by another, giving pleasure and satisfaction
wherever he moved.

Rupert saw, however, that even while speaking his eye was wandering
round the room, and directly he perceived him he walked straight
towards him, those standing between falling back as he advanced.

"Ah, my young friend," he said warmly, holding out his hand to
Rupert, "I was expecting you.

"Sir John Loveday, Lord Fairholm," he said, turning to two young
gentlemen near, "let me present to you Master Rupert Holliday,
grandson of Colonel Holliday, one of the bravest of our cavaliers,
and who I can guarantee has inherited the skill and courage of his
grandfather. He will make the campaign in Holland with you,
gentlemen, for his commission has been made out today in her
Majesty's fifth regiment of dragoons.

"I will speak to you more, presently, Rupert."

So saying, the earl moved away among his visitors, leaving Rupert
flushed with pleasure and confusion. The young gentlemen to whom
the earl had introduced him, much surprised at the flattering
manner in which the great general had spoken of the lad before
them, at once entered into conversation with him, and hearing that
he was but newly come to London, offered to show him the various
places where men of fashion resorted, and begged him to consider
them at his disposal. Rupert, who had been carefully instructed by
his grandfather in courtly expression and manner, returned many
thanks to the gentlemen for their obliging offers, of which, after
he had again spoken to the earl, and knew what commands he would
lay upon him, he would thankfully avail himself.

It was nearly an hour before the Earl of Marlborough had made the
round of the antechamber, but the time passed quickly to Rupert.
The room was full of men whose names were prominent in the history
of the time, and these Sir John Loveday, and Lord Fairholm, who
were lively young men, twenty-two or twenty-three years old,
pointed out to him, often telling him a merry story or some droll
jest regarding them. There was Saint John, handsome, but delicate
looking, with a half sneer on his face, and dressed in the
extremity of fashion, with a coat of peach-coloured velvet with
immense cuffs, crimson leather shoes with diamond buckles; his
sword was also diamond hilted, his hands were almost hidden in lace
ruffles, and he wore his hair in ringlets of some twenty inches in
length, tied behind with a red ribbon. The tall man, with a haughty
but irritable face, in the scarlet uniform of a general officer,
was the Earl of Peterborough. There too were Godolphin and Orford,
both leading members of the cabinet; the Earl of Sutherland, the
Dukes of Devonshire and Newcastle, Lord Nottingham, and many
others.

At last the audience was over, and the minister, bowing to all,
withdrew, and the visitors began to leave. A lackey came up to
Rupert and requested him to follow him; and bidding adieu to his
new friends, who both gave him their addresses and begged him to
call up on them, he followed the servant into the hall and upstairs
into a cosy room, such as would now be called a boudoir. There
stood the Earl of Marlborough, by the chair in which a lady of
great beauty and commanding air was sitting.

"Sarah," he said, "this is my young friend, Rupert Holliday, who as
you know did me good service in the midlands."

The countess held out her hand kindly to Rupert, and he bent over
it and touched it with his lips.

"You must remember you are my friend as well as my husband's," she
said. "He tells me you saved his life; and although I can scarce
credit the tale, seeing how young you are, yet courage and skill
dwell not necessarily in great bodies. Truly, Master Holliday, I am
deeply indebted to you; and Sarah Churchill is true in her
friendships."

"As in her hates, eh?" laughed the earl.

Between the Earl of Marlborough and his wife there existed no
common affection. They were passionately attached to each other;
and the earl's letters show that at all times, even when in the
field surrounded by difficulties, harassed by opposition, menaced
with destruction by superior forces, his thoughts were turned
affectionately towards her, and he was ever wishing that the war
would end that he might return to her side. She on her part was
equally attached to him, but much as she strove to add to his power
and to forward his plans, her haughty and violent temper was the
main cause of the unmerited disgrace into which he fell with his
royal mistress, who owed so much to him personally, and whose reign
he did so much to render a brilliant and successful one. At the
present time, however, she stood upon the footing of the closest
intimacy and affection with Queen Anne.

The earl then introduced Rupert to those other ladies who were
present; the eldest, his daughter Lady Harriet, recently married to
Mr. Godolphin; the second, Anne, married to Lord Spencer; and the
two daughters still unmarried, aged sixteen and seventeen
respectively.

Rupert was so confused with the earl's kindness that he had
difficulty in finding words, but he made a great effort, and
expressed in proper set terms his thankfulness to the countess for
her great kindness to him, and of his own want of deserts.

"There," the countess said, "that will do very nicely and prettily;
and now put it aside until we are in public, and talk in your own
natural way. So you have been fighting again, have you, and
well-nigh killing young Master Brownlow?"

Rupert was completely astounded at this address; and the earl said,
laughing:

"I told you that I expected you. The worthy colonel your
grandfather wrote me a letter, which I received this morning,
telling me the incident which had taken place, and your sudden
disappearance, stating that he doubted not you had made for London,
and begging--which indeed was in no way necessary--my protection on
your behalf."

"Did my grandfather say, sir," Rupert asked anxiously, "aught of
the state of Master Brownlow?"

"Yes; he said that the leech had strong hopes that he would
recover."

"I am indeed glad of that," Rupert said; "for I had no ill will to
him."

"We must be careful of you, Master Holliday," the countess said;
"for if you go on like this you will much diminish the number of
the queen's subjects."

"I can assure your grace," Rupert said earnestly, "that I am no
brawler, and am not quarrelsome by nature, and that the thought of
shedding blood, except of the foes of my country in battle, pains
me much."

"I'll warrant me you are the mildest-tempered boy alive," the earl
said. "Now tell me frankly: you have been in London some
forty-eight hours; have you passed that time without getting into a
fray or quarrel of any kind?"

Rupert turned scarlet with confusion.

"His looks betray him," the earl laughed. "Look, girls, at the
mild-tempered young gentleman.

"Now, out with it. How was it?"

Thus exhorted, Rupert very stammeringly gave an account of the fray
in which he had been engaged.

"Von Duyk!" the earl said. "She must be a daughter of the great
merchant of Dort--a useful friend to have made, maybe, Master
Holliday; and it may be that your adventure may even be of service
to the state. Never speak now, Master Rupert, of your peaceful
intentions. You take after your namesake, the Prince, and are a
veritable knight errant of adventure. The sooner I have you over in
Holland fighting the queen's enemies, and not the queen's subjects,
the better.

"Now tell me, where have you taken up your abode?"

"At the Bell, at Bishopsgate Street," Rupert answered.

"And your follower, for I know one accompanied you; where is he?"

"He waits without, sir."

The earl touched a hand bell.

"Fetch in Master Holliday's retainer; you will find him without.
Make him at home in the servant's hall. Send a messenger down to
the Bell at Bishopsgate, fetch hither the mails of Master Holliday;
he will remain as my guest at present."

Rupert now entered upon a life very different to that which he had
led hitherto. He received a letter from Colonel Holliday, enclosing
an order on a London banker for fifty pounds, and he was soon
provided with suits of clothes fit for balls and other occasions.
Wherever the earl went, Rupert accompanied him as one of his
personal followers; and the frank, straightforward manners of the
lad pleased the ladies of the court, and thus "Little Holliday," as
he was called, soon became a great favourite.

It was about a fortnight after his arrival in town that, for the
first time, he accompanied his friends Sir John Loveday and Lord
Fairholm to the fencing school of Maitre Dalboy, the great fencing
master of the day. Rupert had been looking forward much to this
visit, as he was anxious to see what was the degree of proficiency
of the young court gallants in the art which he so much loved.

Maitre Dalboy's school was a fashionable lounge of the young men of
the court and army. It was a large and lofty room, and some six
assistants were in the act of giving instructions to beginners, or
of fencing with more advanced students, when the trio entered.
Maitre Dalboy himself came up to greet them, for both Rupert's
friends had been his pupils.

"You are strangers," he said reproachfully. "How are your muscles
to keep in good order, and your eye true, if you do not practise?
It is heart rending! I take every pains to turn out accomplished
swordsmen; and no sooner have my pupils learned something of the
business, than they begin to forget it."

"We shall begin to put your teaching into effect before long,
Maitre Dalboy," Sir John Loveday said, with a smile, "for we are
going over to join the army in Holland in a few weeks, and we shall
then have an opportunity of trying the utility of the parries you
have taught us."

"It is too bad," the Frenchman said, shrugging his shoulders, "that
my pupils should use the science I have taught them against my
countrymen; but what would you have? It is the fortune of war. Is
this young gentleman a new pupil that you have brought me?"

"No, indeed," Lord Fairholm said; "this is Master Rupert Holliday,
a cornet in the 5th regiment of dragoons, who is also about to
start for Holland."

"I have had the advantage of learning from a countryman of yours,
Monsieur Dalboy," Rupert said, "a Monsieur Dessin, who is good
enough to teach the noble art in the town of Derby."

"Dessin! Dessin!" Maitre Dalboy said, thoughtfully "I do not
remember the name among our maitres d'escrime."

"The Earl of Marlborough himself vouches for the skill of Master
Holliday with the sword. His grandfather, Colonel Holliday, was, I
believe, noted as one of the finest blades at the court of Saint
Germains."

"I have heard of him," Monsieur Dalboy said, with interest. "Let me
think; he wounded the Marquis de Beauchamp, who was considered one
of the best swordsmen in France. Yes, yes, his fame as a swordsman
is still remembered. And he is alive yet?"

"Alive and active," Rupert said; "and although, as he says himself,
he has lost some of his quickness of reposte, there are, Monsieur
Dessin says, few fencers who could even now treat him lightly."

"And you have had the benefit of his instruction as well as that of
my countryman?" Monsieur Dalboy asked.

"Yes," Rupert said, "my grandfather, although he cares not at his
age for prolonged exercise, has yet made a point of giving me for a
few minutes each day the benefit of his skill."

"I should like to have a bout with you, Master Holliday," Monsieur
Dalboy said; "will you take a foil? I am curious to see what the
united teaching of my countryman and that noted swordsman Colonel
Holliday may have done. To me, as a master, it is interesting to
discover what is possible with good teachers, when the science is
begun young. What may your age be, Master Holliday?"

"I am four months short of sixteen," Rupert said, "and I shall be
very proud of the honour of crossing swords with so famed a master
as yourself, if you think me worthy of so great a privilege."

There was quite a sensation in the fencing school, round which were
gathered some forty or fifty of the young men of the day, when
Maitre Dalboy called for his plastron and foil, for it was seldom
indeed, and then only with swordsmen of altogether exceptional
strength, that Monsieur Dalboy condescended to fence, contenting
himself ordinarily with walking about the school and giving a hint
now and then to those fencing with his assistants, not, perhaps,
more than once a week taking a foil in his hand to illustrate some
thrust or guard which he was inculcating. At this call, therefore,
there was a general silence; and everyone turned to see who was the
fencer whom the great master thus signally deigned to honour.

Great was the astonishment when, as Monsieur Dalboy divested
himself of his coat and vest, the lad who had entered with Lord
Fairholm and Sir John Loveday was seen similarly to prepare for the
contest.

"Who is he? What singular freak is this of the maitre to take up a
foil with a boy!" was the question which ran round the room.

Several of those present had met Rupert Holliday, and could give
his name; but none could account for the freak on the part of the
master.

Fortunately Rupert was unacquainted with the fact that what seemed
to him a natural occurrence was an extraordinary event in the eyes
of all assembled, and he therefore experienced no feeling of
nervousness whatever. He knew that Colonel Holliday was a master of
the sword, and his grandfather had told him that Monsieur Dessin
was an altogether exceptional swordsman. As he knew himself to be
fully a match for the latter, he felt sure that, however perfect a
master Monsieur Dalboy might be, he need not fear discrediting his
master, even if his present opponent should prove more than his
match.

There was a dead silence of curiosity at the singularity of the
affair, as Rupert Holliday took his post face to face with the
master; but a murmur of surprise and admiration ran round the room
at the grace and perfection of accuracy with which Rupert went
through the various parades which were then customary before the
combatants crossed swords.

Rupert felt as calm and as steady as when fencing at home, and
determined to use all his caution as well as all his skill; for not
only did he feel that his own strength was upon trial, but that the
honour of the teachers who had taken such pains with him was
concerned in the result. The swords had scarcely crossed when an
expression of surprise passed across Maitre Dalboy's face. The
first few passes showed him that in this lad he had found an
opponent of no ordinary character, and that all his skill would be
needed to obtain a victory over him.

For the first few minutes each fought cautiously, feeling each
other's strength rather than attempting to attack seriously. Then
the master dropped his point.

"Ma foi! Young sir, you have done monsieur le colonel and my
compatriot justice. I offer you my congratulations."

"They are premature, sir," Rupert said, smiling; "you have not as
yet begun."

The silence in the school was even more profound when the swords
again crossed than it had been when the bout began, for wonder had
now taken the place of amused curiosity. The struggle now commenced
in earnest. Several times at first Rupert narrowly escaped being
touched, for the master's play was new to him. The thrusts and
feints, the various attacks, were all familiar; but whereas Colonel
Holliday had fought simply with his arm and his head, standing
immovably in one place, and Monsieur Dessin had, although quick to
advance and fall back, fought comparatively on the defensive, while
he himself had been the assailant from his superior activity,
Monsieur Dalboy was as quick and as active as himself, and the
rapidity of the attacks, the quick bounds, the swift rushes, at
first almost bewildered him; but gradually, as he grew accustomed
to the play, he steadied himself, and eluded the master's attacks
with an activity as great as his own.

In vain Monsieur Dalboy employed every feint, every combination in
his repertoire. Rupert was always prepared, for from one or other
of his teachers he had learnt the defence to be employed against
each; and at last, as the master, exhausted with his exertions,
flagged a little, Rupert in turn took the offensive. Now Monsieur
Dalboy's skill stood him in equal stead to defend himself against
Rupert's rapid attacks and lightning-like passes and thrusts; and
although the combat had lasted without a second's interruption for
nearly a quarter of an hour, neither combatant had touched the
other.

At last Rupert saw by his opponent's eye that a new and special
combination was about to be put into action against him, and he
instantly steadied himself to resist it. It came with the rapidity
of thought, but Rupert recognized it by the first pass as the very
last combination which Monsieur Dessin had taught him, assuring him
at the time that he would find it irresistible, for that there were
not three men in Europe acquainted with it. He met the attack then
with the defence which Monsieur Dessin had showed him to be the
sure escape, ending with a wrench which nearly tore the sword from
the hand of his opponent.

Monsieur Dalboy sprang back on guard, with a look of profound
astonishment; and then throwing down his foil, he threw himself, in
the impetuous manner of his countrymen, on Rupert's neck, and
embraced him.

"Mon dieu! mon dieu!" he exclaimed, "You are incroyable, you are a
miracle.

"Gentlemen," he said, turning to those present, when the burst of
enthusiastic applause which greeted the conclusion of this
extraordinary contest subsided, "you see in this young gentleman
one of the finest swordsmen in Europe. I do not say the finest, for
he has not touched me, and having no idea of his force I extended
myself rashly at first; but I may say he is my equal. Never but
once have I crossed swords with such a fencer, and I doubt if even
he was as strong. His parry to my last attack was miraculous. It
was a coup invented by myself, and brought to perfection with that
one I speak of. I believed no one else knew it, and have ever
reserved it for a last extremity; but his defence, even to the last
wrench, which would have disarmed any other man but myself, and
even me had I not known that it should have come then, was perfect;
it was astounding.

"This maitre of yours--this Monsieur Dessin," he went on, turning
to Rupert, "must be a wonder.

"Ah!" he said suddenly, and as if to himself; "c'est bien possible!
What was he like, this Monsieur Dessin?"

"He is tall, and slight except as to his shoulders, where he is
very broad."

"And he has a little scar here, has he not?" the fencing master
said, pointing to his temple.

"Yes," Rupert said, surprised; "I have often noticed it."

"Then it is he," Monsieur Dalboy said, "the swordsman of whom I
spoke. No wonder you parried my coup. I had wondered what had
become of him. And you know him as Monsieur Dessin? And he teaches
fencing?"

"Yes," Rupert said; "but my grandfather always said that Monsieur
Dessin was only an assumed name, and that he was undoubtedly of
noble blood."

"Your grandfather was right," the master said. "Yes, you have had
wonderful masters; but unless I had seen it, I should not have
believed that even the best masters in the world could have turned
out such a swordsman as you at your age."

By this time the various couples had begun fencing again, and the
room resounded with the talk of the numerous lookers on, who were
all discoursing on what appeared to them, as to Monsieur Dalboy,
the almost miraculous occurrence of a lad under sixteen holding his
own against a man who had the reputation of being the finest maitre
in Europe. Lord Fairholm, Sir John Loveday, and other gentlemen,
now came round.

"I was rather thinking," Sir John said, with a laugh, "of taking
you under my protection, Master Holliday, and fighting your battles
for you, as an old boy does for a young one at school; but it must
even be the other way. And by my faith, if any German Ritter or
French swordsman should challenge the British dragoons to a trial
of the sword, we shall put you forth as our David."

"I trust that that may not be," Rupert said; "for though in battle
I hope that I shall not be found wanting, yet I trust that I shall
have nought to do in private quarrels, but be looked upon as one of
a peaceful disposition."

"Very peaceful, doubtless!" laughed Lord Fairholm. "Tell me, Master
Rupert, honestly now, didst ever use in earnest that sword that you
have just shown that you know so well how to wield?"

Rupert flushed up crimson.

"Yes," he said, with a shame-faced look, "I have twice used my
sword in self defence."

"Ha, ha! Our peaceful friend!" laughed Lord Fairholm. "And tell me,
didst put an end to both unfortunates?"

Rupert coloured still more deeply.

"I had the misfortune to slay one, my lord; but there are good
hopes that the other will recover."

A general shout of laughter greeted the announcement, which
together with Rupert's evident shame-faced look, was altogether too
much for their gravity.

Just at this moment a diversion was caused by a young man dressed
in the extreme of fashion who entered the school. He had a
dissipated and jaded air.

"Fulke, where hast been?" one of the group standing round Rupert
asked. "We have missed you these two weeks. Someone said you had
been roughly mauled, and had even lost some teeth. Is it so?"

"It is," the newcomer said, with an angry scowl. "Any beauty I once
may have had is gone forever. I have lost three of my upper teeth,
and two of my lower, and I am learning now to speak with my lips
shut, so as to hide the gap."

"But how came it about?"

"I was walking down a side street off the Strand, when four men
sprang out and held my hands to my side, another snatched my watch
and purse, and as I gave a cry for the watch, he smote me with the
pommel of his rapier in my mouth, then throwing me on the ground
the villains took to their heels together."

The exclamations of commiseration and indignation which arose
around, were abruptly checked by a loud laugh from Rupert.

There was a dead silence and Sir Richard Fulke, turning his eyes
with fury towards the lad who had dared to jeer at his misfortune,
demanded why he laughed.

"I could not help but laugh," Rupert said, "although doubtless it
was unmannerly; but your worship's story reminded me so
marvellously of the tale of the stout knight, Sir John Falstaff's
adventure with the men of buckram."

"What mean you?" thundered Sir Richard.

"I mean, sir," Rupert said quietly, "that your story has not one
word of truth in it. I came upon you in that side street off the
Strand, as you were trying to carry off by force, aided by a rascal
named Captain Copper, a lady, whose name shall not be mentioned
here. I had not my sword with me, but with a walking stick I
trounced your friend the captain, and then, with my stick against
your rapier, I knocked out those teeth you regret, with a fair
thrust.

"If my word is doubted, gentlemen, Alderman Hawkins, who heard the
details of the matter from the young lady and her chairman, can
vouch for it."

A cry of fury burst from Sir Richard Fulke; and drawing his sword
he would have sprung upon the lad, who had not only disfigured him
for life, but now made him the laughingstock of society, for the
tale would, he knew, spread far and wide. Several of the gentlemen
threw themselves between him and Rupert.

"I will have his life's blood!" he exclaimed, struggling in the
arms of those who would hold him back. "I will kill the dog as he
stands."

"Sir Richard Fulke," Lord Fairholm said, "Master Holliday is a
friend of mine, and will give you an honourable meeting when you
will; but I should advise you to smother your choler. It seems he
proved himself with a stick your superior, although armed with a
sword, and Master Dalboy will tell you that it is better to leave
him alone."

Master Dalboy was standing by, and going up to Sir Richard, he
said:

"Sir, if you will take my poor advice you will go your way, and
leave Master Holliday to himself. He has, as those here will tell
you, proved himself fully my equal as a swordsman, and could kill
you if only armed with a six-inch dagger against your sword. It
would be safer for you to challenge the whole of those in this
present company than to cross swords with him."

A few words from those standing round corroborated a statement
which at first appeared fabulous; and then finding that an open
encounter with Rupert would be the worst possible method of
obtaining satisfaction for the injuries he had received, Sir
Richard Fulke flung himself out of the school, muttering deep vows
of future vengeance.

"You have made a dangerous enemy," Lord Fairholm said, as the three
friends walked homeward. "He bears a bad character, and is a
reckless and ruined man. After what he has heard of your skill as a
swordsman he will, we may be sure, take no open steps against you;
but it is certain that he will scheme night and day for vengeance.
When the report gets abroad of his cock-and-bull story, and the
true history of the loss of his teeth, he will not be able to show
his face in public for some time; but he will be none the less
dangerous. Through that notorious ruffian, Captain Copper, he can
dispose of half the cutthroats about the town, and I should advise
you not to go out after dark until you have put the seas between
you and him, and even then you had better be cautious for a time."

Rupert agreed with his friend's advice, and the next day begged his
patron to let him embark at once for Holland, in a ship that was to
sail with troops from London Bridge. He urged as his reason for
desiring to go at once, his wish to learn something at least of his
duties before the campaign began.

As the earl had already heard a rumour of the scene in the fencing
school, he made no opposition to the plan, and the next day Rupert,
accompanied by Hugh, sailed down the Thames, bound for Rotterdam.



Chapter 6: The War Of Succession.

The war which was about to commence, and which Rupert Holliday
sailed for the Hague to take part in, was one of the grandest and
most extensive struggles that ever devastated Europe, embracing as
it did the whole of the central and western nations of the
continent. In fact, with the exception of Russia, still in the
depths of barbarism, and Italy, which was then a battlefield rather
than a nation, all the states of Europe were ranged on one side or
the other.

As Charles the Second of Spain approached his end, the liveliest
interest was felt as to his succession. He had no children, and the
hopes and fears of all the continental nations were excited by the
question of the disposal of the then vast dominions of Spain. The
principal powers of Europe, dreading the consequences of this great
empire being added to the power of any one monarch, entered into a
secret treaty, which was signed at the Hague in 1698, by which it
was agreed that Spain itself should be ceded to the Electoral
Prince of Bavaria, with Flanders and the Low countries; Naples,
Sicily, Tuscany, and Guipuscoa were to fall to France; and the
Duchy of Milan to the archduke, son of the Emperor of Germany.
Holland was to gain a considerable accession of territory. England,
one of the signatories to the treaty, was to gain nothing by the
division.

The contents of this treaty leaked out, and the king of Spain,
after a consultation with Austria, who was also indignant at the
secret treaty, made a will bequeathing all his dominions to the
Elector of Bavaria. Had that prince lived, all the complications
which ensued would probably have been avoided; but he died, the 9th
February, 1699, and the whole question was thereby again opened.
Another secret treaty was made, between England, France, and
Holland, and signed on the 13th March, 1700, at the Hague. By this
treaty it was agreed that France was to receive Naples, Sicily,
Guipuscoa, and Lorraine; the Archduke Charles Spain, the Low
Countries, and the Indies; and the Spanish colonies were to be
divided between Holland and England. As both England and Holland
were at the time in alliance with Spain, it must be admitted that
their secret arrangement for the partition of her territories was
of a very infamous character.

Louis of France, while apparently acting with the other powers,
secretly communicated the contents of the treaty to Charles II. The
Spanish king was naturally dismayed at the great conspiracy to
divide his kingdom at his death, and he convened his council of
state and submitted the matter to them. It was apparent that
France, by far the most powerful of the other continental states,
could alone avert the division, and the states general therefore
determined to unite the interests of France and Spain by appointing
the Duc d'Anjou, grandson of the King of France, sole heir to the
vast empire of Spain.

The news that Spain and France were henceforth to be united caused
the greatest consternation to the rest of the States, and all
Europe began to arm. Very shortly after signing the bequest, the
old King of Spain died, and the Duc d'Anjou ascended the throne.
The Spanish Netherlands, governed by the young Elector of Bavaria,
as Lieutenant General of Spain, at once gave in their adhesion to
the new monarch. The distant colonies all accepted his rule, as did
the great Spanish possessions in Italy; while the principal
European nations acknowledged him as successor of Charles the
Second.

The new empire seemed indeed of preponderating strength. Bavaria
united herself in a firm alliance with France and Spain; and these
three countries, with Italy and Flanders, appeared capable of
giving the law to the world. England, less affected than the
continental powers by the dominance of this powerful coalition,
might have remained quiet, had not the French King thrown down the
gauntlet of defiance. On the 16th September, 1701, James the
Second, the exiled King of England, died, and Louis at once
acknowledged his son as King of Great Britain and Ireland. This act
was nothing short of a public declaration of war, not only against
the reigning monarch of England, but against the established
religion of our country. The exiled prince was Roman Catholic.
Louis was the author of the most terrible persecution of the
Protestants that ever occurred in Europe. Thus the action of the
French king rallied round William the Second all the Protestant
feeling of the nation. Both Houses of Parliament voted loyal
addresses, and the nation prepared for the great struggle before
it. The king laboured to establish alliances and a plan for common
action, and all was in readiness, when his sudden death left the
guidance of affairs in other hands.

These hands were, happily for England, those of the Earl of
Marlborough, the finest diplomatist, as well as the greatest
soldier, of his time.

The struggle which was approaching was a gigantic one. On one side
were France and Spain, open to attack on one side only, and holding
moreover Flanders, and almost the whole of Italy, with the rich
treasures of the Indies upon which to draw for supplies. The
alliance of Bavaria, with a valiant population, extended the
offensive power of the coalition into the heart of Austria.

Upon the other hand were the troops of Austria, England, Holland,
Hanover, Hesse Cassel, and the lesser states of Germany, with a
contingent of troops, from Prussia and Denmark. In point of numbers
the nations ranged on either side were about equal; but while
France, Spain, and Bavaria formed a compact body under the guidance
of Louis, the allies were divided by separate, and often opposing
interests and necessities, while Austria was almost neutralized by
a dangerous Hungarian insurrection that was going on, and by the
danger of a Turkish invasion which the activity of French diplomacy
kept continually hanging over it. The coalition was weakened in the
field by the jealousies of the commanders of the various
nationalities, and still more by the ignorance and timidity of the
Dutch deputies, which Holland insisted on keeping at headquarters,
with the right of veto on all proceedings.

On the side of the allies the following were the arrangements for
the opening of the campaign. A German army under Louis, Margrave of
Baden, was to be collected on the upper Rhine to threaten France on
the side of Alsace. A second corps, 25,000 strong, composed of
Prussian troops and Dutch, under the Prince of Saarbruck, were to
undertake the siege of Kaiserwerth, a small but very important
fortress on the right bank of the Rhine, two leagues below
Dusseldorf. The main army, 35,000 strong, under the Earl of
Athlone, was destined to cover the frontier of Holland, from the
Rhine to the Vecun, and also to cover the siege of Kaiserwerth;
while a fourth body, of 10,000 men, under General Cohorn, were
collected near the mouth of the Scheldt, and threatened the
district of Bruges.

Upon the other side the French had been equally active. On the
Lower Rhine a force was stationed to keep that of Cohorn in check.
Marshal Tallard, with 15,000 men, came down from the Upper Rhine to
interrupt the siege of Kaiserwerth, while the main army, 45,000
strong, under the Duke of Burgundy and Marshal Boufflers, was
posted in the Bishopric of Liege, resting on the tremendous chain
of fortresses of Flanders, all of which were in French possession,
and strongly garrisoned by French and Spanish soldiers.

At the time, however, when the vessel containing Rupert Holliday
and Hugh Parsons sailed up the Scheldt, early in the month of May,
these arrangements were not completed, but both armies were waiting
for the conflict.

The lads had little time for the examination of the Hague, now the
dullest and most quiet of European capitals, but then a bustling
city, full of life and energy; for, with the troops who had arrived
with them, they received orders to march at once to join the camp
formed at Breda. Accustomed to a quiet English country life, the
activity and bustle of camp life were at once astonishing and
delightful. The journey from the Hague had been a pleasant one.
Rupert rode one of the two horses with which the Earl of
Marlborough had presented him, Hugh the other; and as a portion of
the soldiers with them were infantry, the marches were short and
easy; while the stoppages at quaint Dutch villages, the solemn ways
of whose inhabitants, their huge breeches, and disgust at the
disturbance of their usual habits when the troops were quartered
upon them, were a source of great amusement to them.

Upon reaching the camp they soon found their way to their regiment.
Here Rupert presented to Colonel Forbes the letter of recommendation
with which the Earl of Marlborough had provided him, and was at once
introduced by him to his brother officers, most of them young men, but
all some years older than himself. His frank, pleasant, boyish manner
at once won for him a cordial acceptance, and the little cornet, as he
was called in the regiment, soon became a general favourite.

Hugh, who had formally enlisted in the regiment before leaving
England, was on arrival handed over to a sergeant; and the two lads
were, with other recruits, incessantly drilled from morning till
night, to render them efficient soldiers before the day of trial
arrived.

Rupert shared a tent with the other two officers of his troop,
Captain Lauriston, a quiet Scotchman, and Lieutenant Dillon, a
young Irishman, full of fun and life.

There were in camp three regiments of British cavalry and six of
infantry, and as they were far from the seat of war, there was for
the present nothing to do but to drill, and prepare for the coming
campaign. Rupert was delighted with the life, for although the work
for the recruits was hard, the weather was splendid, supplies
abundant--for the Dutch farm wives and their daughters brought
ducks, and geese, and eggs into the camp--and all were in high
spirits at the thought of the approaching campaign. Every night
there were gatherings round the fire, when songs were sung and
stories told. Most of the officers had before campaigned in
Holland, under King William, and many had fought in Ireland, and
had stirring tales of the Boyne, of the siege of Athlone, and of
fierce encounters with the brave but undisciplined Irish.

At the end of a month's hard work, Rupert began to understand his
duties, for in those days the amount of drill deemed necessary for
a trooper was small indeed in proportion to that which he has now
to master. Rupert was already a good rider, and soon learnt where
was his proper place as cornet in each evolution, and the orders
that it behoved him to give. The foot drill was longer and more
difficult, for in those days dragoons fought far more on foot than
is now the case, although at this epoch they had already ceased to
be considered as mounted infantry, and had taken their true place
as cavalry. Rupert's broadsword drill lasted but a very short time;
upon the drill sergeant asking him if he knew anything of that
weapon, he said that he could play at singlestick, but had never
practised with the broadsword. His instructor, however, found that
a very few lessons were sufficient to enable him to perform the
required cuts and guard with sufficient proficiency, and very
speedily claimed the crown which Rupert promised him on his
dismissal from the class.

Week after week passed in inactivity, and the troops chafed
mightily thereat, the more so that stirring events were proceeding
elsewhere. The siege of Kaiserwerth, by a body of 15,000 German
troops, had begun on the 18th of April, and the attack and defence
were alike obstinate and bloody. The Earl of Athlone with his
covering forces lay at Cleves, and a sharp cavalry fight between
1000 of the allied cavalry and 700 French horse took place on the
27th of April. The French were defeated, with the loss of 400 men;
but as the victors lost 300, it is clear that both sides fought
with extreme determination and bravery, such a loss--700 men out of
1700 combatants--being extraordinarily large. The spirit shown by
both sides in this the first fight of the war, was a portent of the
obstinate manner in which all the battles of this great war were
contested. For two months Kaiserwerth nobly defended itself.
Seventy-eight guns and mortars thundered against it night and day.
On the 9th of June the besiegers made a desperate assault and
gained possession of a covered way, but at a cost of 2000 killed
and wounded. A week later the place capitulated after a siege which
had cost the allies 5000 men.

General Boufflers, with his army of 37,000 men, finding himself
unable to raise the siege, determined to make a dash against
Nimeguen, an important frontier fortress of Holland, but which the
supineness of the Dutch Government had allowed to fall into
disrepair. Not only was there no garrison there, but not a gun was
mounted on its walls. The expedition seemed certain of success, and
on the evening of the 9th of June Boufflers moved out from Xanten,
and marched all night. Next day Athlone obtained news of the
movement and started in the evening, his march being parallel with
the French, the hostile armies moving abreast, and at no great
distance from each other.

The cavalry covered the British march, and these were in the
morning attacked by the French horse under the Duke of Burgundy.
The British were outnumbered, but fought with great obstinacy, and
before they fell back, with a loss of 720 men and a convoy of 300
waggons, the infantry had pushed forward, and when the French army
reached Nimeguen its ramparts bristled with British bayonets.
Boufflers, disappointed in his aim, fell back upon the rich
district of Cleves, now open to him, and plundered and ravaged that
fertile country.

Although Kaiserwerth had been taken and Nimeguen saved, the danger
which they had run, and the backward movement of the allied army,
filled the Dutch with consternation.

The time, however, had come when Marlborough himself was to assume
the command, and by his genius, dash, and strategy to alter the
whole complexion of things, and to roll back the tide of war from
the borders of Holland. He had crossed from England early in May, a
few days only after Rupert had sailed; but hitherto he had been
engaged in smoothing obstacles, appeasing jealousies, healing
differences, and getting the whole arrangement of the campaign into
something like working order. At last, everything being fairly in
trim, he set out on the 2nd of July from the Hague, with full power
as commander-in-chief of the allied armies, for Nimeguen. There he
ordered the British troops from Breda, 8000 Germans from
Kaiserwerth, and the contingents of Hesse and Luneburg, 6000
strong, under the Prince of Zell, to join him.

As these reinforcements brought his army up to a strength superior
to that of the French, although Marshal Boufflers had hastily drawn
to him some of the garrisons of the fortresses, the Earl of
Marlborough prepared to strike a great blow. The Dutch deputies who
accompanied the army--and whose timidity and obstinacy a score of
times during the course of the war thwarted all Marlborough's
best-laid plans, and saved the enemy from destruction--interfered
to forbid an attack upon two occasions when an engagement would, as
admitted by French historians, have been fatal to their whole army.
Marlborough therefore was obliged to content himself by outflanking
the French, compelling them to abandon Cleves, to cross the Meuse,
and to fall back into Flanders, with some loss, and great haste and
disorder.

In vain the French marshal endeavoured to take post so as to save
the Meuse fortresses, which stood at the gates of Flanders, and by
their command of the river prevented the allies from using the
chain of water communications to bring up supplies. Marlborough
crossed the line by which his siege train was coming up, and then
pounced upon Venloo, a very strong fortress standing across the
Meuse--that is to say, the town was on one side, the fort of Saint
Michael on the other.

After this chapter, devoted to the necessary task of explaining the
cause and commencement of the great War of Succession, we can
return to the individual fortunes of our hero.



Chapter 7: Venloo.

Upon the 5th dragoons being, with the others lying with it in camp
at Breda, ordered up to join the main army at Nimeguen, Rupert was,
to his great delight, declared to be sufficiently advanced in his
knowledge of drill to take his place regularly in the ranks; and
Hugh and the other recruits also fell into their places in the
various troops among which they were divided, Hugh being, at
Rupert's request, told off to Captain Lauriston's troop. With drums
beating and colours flying, the column from Breda marched into the
allied camp at Duckenberg in front of Nimeguen, where the troops
crowded out to greet this valuable addition of eight infantry
regiments and three of cavalry.

Scarcely were the tents pitched than Rupert heard himself heartily
saluted, and looking round, saw his friends Lord Fairholm and Sir
John Loveday, who being already in camp had at once sought him out.

"By my faith, Master Holliday, the three months have done wonders
for you; you look every inch a soldier," Lord Fairholm said.

"His very moustache is beginning to show," Sir John Loveday said,
laughing.

Rupert joined in the laugh, for in truth he had that very morning
looked anxiously in a glass, and had tried in vain to persuade
himself that the down on his upper lip showed any signs of
thickening or growing.

"Well, and how many unfortunate English, Dutch, and Germans have
you dispatched since we saw you?"

"Oh, please hush," Rupert said anxiously. "No one knows that I have
any idea of fencing, or that I have ever drawn a sword before I
went through my course of the broadsword here. I would not on any
account that any one thought I was a quarrelsome swordster. You
know I really am not, and it has been purely my misfortune that I
have been thrust into these things."

"And you have never told any of your comrades that you have killed
your man? Or that Dalboy proclaimed you in his salle to be one of
the finest blades in Europe?"

"No, indeed," Rupert said. "Why should I, Sir John?"

"Well, all I can say is, Rupert, I admire your modesty as much as
your skill. There are few fellows of your age, or of mine either,
but would hector a little on the strength of such a reputation. I
think that I myself should cock my hat, and point my moustache a
little more fiercely, if I knew that I was the cock of the whole
walk."

Rupert smiled. "I don't think you would, Sir John, especially if
you were as young as I am. I know I have heard my tutor say that
the fellow who is really cock of a school, is generally one of the
quietest and best-tempered fellows going. Not that I mean," he
added hastily, as his companions both laughed, "that I am cock, or
that I am a quiet or very good-tempered fellow. I only meant that I
was not quarrelsome, and have indeed put up more than once with
practical jokings which I might have resented had I not known how
skillful with the sword I am, and that in this campaign I shall
have plenty of opportunities of showing that I am no coward."

"Well spoken, Rupert," Sir John said. "Now we have kept you talking
in the sun an unconscionable time; come over to our tent, and have
something to wash the dust away. We have some fairly good Burgundy,
of which we bought a barrel the other day from a vintner in
Nimeguen, and it must be drunk before we march.

"Are these the officers of your troop? Pray present me."

Rupert introduced his friends to Captain Lauriston and Lieutenant
Dillon, and the invitation was extended to them. For the time,
however, it was necessary to see to the wants of the men, but later
on the three officers went across to the tents of the king's
dragoons, to which regiment Lord Fairholm and Sir John Loveday both
belonged, and spent a merry evening.

Upon the following day the Earl of Marlborough sent for Rupert and
inquired of him how he liked the life, and how he was getting on;
and begged of him to come to him at any time should he have need of
money, or be in any way so placed as to need his aid. Rupert
thanked him warmly, but replied that he lacked nothing.

The following day the march began, and Rupert shared in the general
indignation felt by the British officers and men at seeing the
splendid opportunities of crushing the enemy--opportunities gained
by the skill and science of their general, and by their own rapid
and fatiguing marches--thrown away by the feebleness and timidity
of the Dutch deputies. When the siege of Venloo began the main body
of the army was again condemned to inactivity, and the cavalry had
of course nothing to do with the siege.

The place was exceedingly strong, but the garrison was weak,
consisting only of six battalions of infantry and 300 horse.
Cohorn, the celebrated engineer, directed the siege operations, for
which thirty-two battalions of infantry and thirty-six squadrons of
horse were told off, the Prince of Nassau Saarbruch being in
command.

Two squadrons of the 5th dragoons, including the troop to which
Rupert belonged, formed part of the force. The work was by no means
popular with the cavalry, as they had little to do, and lost their
chance of taking part in any great action that Boufflers might
fight with Marlborough to relieve the town. The investment began on
the 4th? of September, the efforts of the besiegers being directed
against Fort Saint Michael at the opposite side of the river, but
connected by a bridge of boats to the town.

On the 17th the breaches were increasing rapidly in size, and it
was whispered that the assault would be made on the evening of the
18th, soon after dusk.

"It will be a difficult and bloody business," Captain Lauriston
said, as they sat in their tent that evening. "The garrison of Fort
Saint Michael is only 800, but reinforcements will of course pour
in from the town directly the attack begins, and it may be more
than our men can do to win the place. You remember how heavily the
Germans suffered in their attack on the covered way of Kaiserwerth."

"I should think the best thing to do would be to break down the
bridge of boats before beginning the attack," Lieutenant Dillon
remarked.

"Yes, that would be an excellent plan if it could be carried out,
but none of our guns command it."

"We might launch a boat with straw or combustibles from above,"
Rupert said, "and burn it."

"You may be very sure that they have got chains across the river
above the bridge, to prevent any attempt of that kind," Captain
Lauriston said.

Presently the captain, who was on duty, went out for his rounds,
and Rupert, who had been sitting thoughtfully, said, "Look here,
Dillon, I am a good swimmer, and it seems to me that it would be
easy enough to put two or three petards on a plank--I noticed some
wood on the bank above the town yesterday--and to float down to the
bridge, to fasten them to two or three of the boats, and so to
break the bridge; your cousin in the engineers could manage to get
us the petards. What do you say?"

The young Irishman looked at the lad in astonishment.

"Are you talking seriously?" he asked.

"Certainly; why not?"

"They'd laugh in your face if you were to volunteer," Dillon said.

"But I shouldn't volunteer; I should just go and do it."

"Yes, but after it was done, instead of getting praise--that is, if
you weren't killed--you'd be simply told you had no right to
undertake such an affair."

"But I should never say anything about it," Rupert said. "I should
just do it because it would be a good thing to do, and would save
the lives of some of our grenadiers, who will, likely enough, lead
the assault. Besides, it would be an adventure, like any other."

Dillon looked at him for some time.

"You are a curious fellow, Holliday. I would agree to join you in
the matter, but I cannot swim a stroke. Pat Dillon cares as little
for his life as any man; and after all, there's no more danger in
it than in going out in a duel; and I could do that without
thinking twice."

"Well, I shall try it," Rupert said quietly. "Hugh can swim as well
as I can, and I'll take him. But can you get me the petards?"

"I dare say I could manage that," Dillon said, entering into the
scheme with all an Irishman's love of excitement. "But don't you
think I could go too, though I can't swim? I could stick tight to
the planks, you know."

"No," Rupert said seriously, "that would not do. We may be
detected, and may have to dive, and all sorts of things. No,
Dillon, it would not do. But if you can get the petards, you will
have the satisfaction of knowing that you have done your share of
the work; and then you might, if you could, ride round in the
evening with my uniform and Hugh's in your valise. If you go on to
the bank half a mile or so below the town, every one will be
watching the assault, and we can get ashore, put on our clothes,
and get back home without a soul being the wiser."

"And suppose you are killed?"

"Pooh, I shall not be killed!" Rupert said. "But I shall leave a
letter, which you can find in the morning if I do not come back,
saying I have undertaken this adventure in hope of benefiting
her Majesty's arms; that I do it without asking permission; but
that I hope that my going beyond my duty will be forgiven, in
consideration that I have died in her Majesty's service."

The next day at two o'clock, Lieutenant Dillon, who had been away
for an hour, beckoned to Rupert that he wanted to speak to him
apart.

"I have seen my cousin Gerald, but he will not let me have the
petards unless he knows for what purpose they are to be used. I
said as much as I could without betraying your intentions, but I
think he guessed them; for he said, 'Look here, Pat, if there is
any fun and adventure on hand, I will make free with her gracious
Majesty's petards, on condition that I am in it.' He's up to fun of
every kind, Gerald is; and can, I know, swim like a fish. What do
you say, shall I tell him?"

"Do, by all means," Rupert said. "I have warned Hugh of what I am
going to do, and he would never forgive me if I did not take him;
but if your cousin will go, all the better, for he will know far
better than I how to fix the petards. You can tell him I shall be
glad to act under his orders; and if it succeeds, and he likes to
let it be known the part which he has played in the matter--which
indeed would seem to be within the scope of his proper duties, he
being an engineer--I shall be glad for him to do so, it always
being understood that he does not mention my name in any way."

Half-an-hour later Dillon entered, to say that his cousin agreed heartily
to take a part in the adventure, and that he would shortly come up to
arrange the details with Rupert. Rupert had met Gerald Dillon before,
and knew him to be as wild, adventurous, and harum-scarum a young officer
as his cousin Pat; and in half-an-hour's talk the whole matter was settled.

Gerald would take two petards, which weighed some twenty pounds
each, to his tent, one by one. Hugh should fetch them in a basket,
one by one, to the river bank, at the spot where a balk of wood had
been washed ashore by some recent floods. At seven in the evening
Gerald should call upon his cousin, and on leaving, accompany
Rupert to the river bank, where Hugh would be already in waiting.
When they had left, Pat Dillon should start on horseback with the
three uniforms in his valise, the party hiding the clothes in which
they left the camp, under the bank at their place of starting.

The plan was carried out as arranged, and soon after seven o'clock
Rupert Holliday and Gerald Dillon, leaving the camp, strolled down
to the river, on whose bank Hugh was already sitting. The day had
been extremely hot, and numbers of soldiers were bathing in the
river. It was known that the assault was to take place that night,
but as the cavalry would take no part in it, the soldiers, with
their accustomed carelessness, paid little heed to the matter. As
it grew dusk, the bathers one by one dressed and left, until only
the three watchers remained. Then Rupert called Hugh, who had been
sitting at a short distance, to his side; they then stripped, and
carefully concealed their clothes. The petards were taken out from
beneath a heap of stones, where Hugh had hid them, and were fixed
on the piece of timber, one end of which was just afloat in the
stream. By their side was placed some lengths of fuse, a brace of
pistols, a long gimlet, some hooks, and cord. Then just as it was
fairly dark the log was silently pushed into the water, and
swimming beside it, with one hand upon it, the little party started
upon their adventurous expedition.

The log was not very large, although of considerable length, and
with the petards upon it, it showed but little above water. The
point where they had embarked was fully two miles above the town,
and it was more than an hour before the stream took them abreast of
it. Although it was very dark, they now floated on their backs by
the piece of timber, so as to show as little as possible to any who
might be on the lookout, for of all objects the round outline of a
human head is one of the most easily recognized.

Presently they came, as they had expected, to a floating boom,
composed of logs of timber chained together. Here the piece of
timber came to a standstill. No talk was necessary, as the course
under these circumstances had been already agreed to. The petards
and other objects were placed on the boom, upon which Rupert, as
the lightest of the party, crept, holding in his hand a cord
fastened round the log. Hugh and Gerald Dillon now climbed upon one
end of the log, which at once sank into the water below the level
of the bottom of the boom, and the current taking it, swept it
beneath the obstacle. Rupert's rope directed its downward course,
and it was soon alongside the boom, but on the lower side.

The petards were replaced, and the party again proceeded; but now
Hugh swam on his back, holding a short rope attached to one end, so
as to keep the log straight, and prevent its getting across the
mooring chains of the boats forming the bridge; while Rupert and
Gerald, each with a rope also attached to the log, floated down
some ten or twelve yards on either side of the log, but a little
behind it. The plan answered admirably; the stream carried the log
end-foremost between two of the boats, which were moored twelve
feet apart, while Gerald and Rupert each floated on the other side
of the mooring chains of the boats; round these chains they twisted
the ropes, and by them the log lay anchored as it were under the
bridge, and between two of the boats forming it. If there were any
sentries on the bridge, these neither saw nor heard them, their
attention being absorbed by the expectation of an attack upon the
breaches of Fort Saint Michael.

The party now set to work. With the gimlet holes were made a couple
of feet above the water. In them the hooks were inserted, and from
these the petards were suspended by ropes, so as to lie against the
sides of the boats, an inch only above the water's level. The fuses
were inserted; and all being now in readiness for blowing a hole in
the side of the two boats, they regained the log, and awaited the
signal.

The time passed slowly; but as the church clocks of the town struck
eleven, a sudden outburst of musketry broke out round Saint
Michael's. In an instant the cannon of the fort roared out, the
bells clanged the alarm, blue fires were lighted, and the dead
silence was succeeded by a perfect chaos of sounds.

The party under the bridge waited quietly, until the noise as of a
large body of men coming upon the bridge from the town end was
heard. At the first outbreak Gerald Dillon had, with some
difficulty, lit first some tinder, and then a slow match, from a
flint and steel--all of these articles having been most carefully
kept dry during the trip, with the two pistols, which were intended
to fire the fuses, should the flint and steel fail to produce a
light.

As the sound of the reinforcements coming on to the bridge was
heard, Gerald Dillon on one side, Rupert Holliday on the other,
left the log, and swam with a slow match in hand to the boats. In
another instant the fuses were lighted, and the three companions
swam steadily downstream.

In twenty seconds a loud explosion was heard, followed almost
instantaneously by another, and the swimmers knew that their object
had been successful, that two of the boats forming the bridge would
sink immediately, and that, the connexion being thus broken, no
reinforcements from the town could reach the garrison of the Fort
Saint Michael. Loud shouts were heard upon the bridge as the
swimmers struck steadily down stream, while the roar of the
musketry from Fort Saint Michael was unremitting.

Half an hour later the three adventurers landed, at a point where a
lantern had, according to arrangement, been placed at the water's
edge by Pat Dillon, who was in waiting with their clothes, and who
received them with an enthusiastic welcome. Five minutes later they
were on their way back to their camp.

In the meantime the battle had raged fiercely round Fort Saint
Michael. The attack had been made upon two breaches. The British
column, headed by the grenadiers, and under the command of Lord
Cutts, attacked the principal breach. The French opposed a
desperate defence. With Lord Cutts as volunteers were Lord
Huntingdon, Lord Lorn, Sir Richard Temple, and Mr. Dalrymple, and
these set a gallant example to their men.

On arriving at a high breastwork, Lord Huntingdon, who was weakened
by recent attack of fever, was unable to climb over it.

"Five guineas," he shouted, "to the man who will help me over!"

Even among the storm of balls there was a shout of laughter as the
nobleman held out his purse, and a dozen willing hands soon lifted
him over the obstacle.

Then on the troops swept, stormed the covered way, carried the
ravelin, and forced their way up the breach. The French fought
staunchly; and well it was for the British that no reinforcements
could reach them from Venloo, and that the original 800 garrisoning
the fort were alone in their defence. As it was, the place was
stormed, 200 of the French made prisoners, and the rest either
killed or drowned in endeavouring to cross the river.

The French in Venloo, upon finding that the fort had fallen, broke
up the rest of the bridge; and although there was some surprise in
the British camp that no reinforcements had been sent over to aid
the garrison, none knew that the bridge had been broken at the
commencement of the attack, consequently there were neither talk
nor inquiries; and those concerned congratulated themselves that
their adventure had been successful, and that, as no one knew
anything of it, they could, should occasion offer, again undertake
an expedition on their own account.

The day after the capture of Saint Michael's, strong fatigue
parties were set to work, erecting batteries to play across the
river on the town. These were soon opened, and after a few days'
further resistance, the place surrendered, on the condition of the
garrison being free to march to Antwerp, then in French possession.

The towns of Ruremond and Stevenswort were now invested, and
surrendered after a short resistance; and thus the Maas was opened
as a waterway for the supplies for the army.

The Dutch Government, satisfied with the successes so far, would
have now had the army go into winter quarters; but Marlborough,
with great difficulty, persuaded them to consent to his undertaking
the siege of Liege, a most important town and fortress, whose
possession would give to the allies the command of the Meuse--or
Maas--into the very heart of Flanders.

Marshal Boufflers, ever watching the movements of Marlborough,
suspected that Liege would be his next object of attack, and
accordingly reconnoitred the ground round that city, and fixed on a
position which would, he thought, serve admirably for the
establishment of a permanent camp.

The news was, however, brought to Marlborough, who broke up his
camp the same night; and when the French army approached Liege,
they found the allies established on the very ground which the
Marshal had selected for their camp. All unsuspecting the presence
of the English, the French came on in order of march until within
cannon shot of the allies, and another splendid opportunity was
thus given to Marlborough to attack the main body of the enemy
under most advantageous circumstances.

The Dutch deputies again interposed their veto, and the English had
the mortification of seeing the enemy again escape from their
hands.

However, there was now nothing to prevent their undertaking the
siege of Liege, and on the 20th of October the regular investment
of the place was formed.

The strength of Liege consisted in its citadel and the Fort of
Chatreuse, both strongly fortified. The town itself, a wealthy
city, and so abounding in churches that it was called "Little
Rome," was defended only by a single wall. It could clearly offer
no defence against the besiegers, and therefore surrendered at the
first summons, the garrison, 5000 strong, retiring to the citadel
and Fort Saint Chatreuse, which mounted fifty guns. Siege was at
once laid to the citadel, and with such extraordinary vigour was
the attack pushed forward, under the direction of General Cohorn,
that upon the 23rd of October, three days only after the investment
commenced, the breaches in the counter-scarp were pronounced
practicable, and an assault was immediately ordered. The allies
attacked with extreme bravery, and the citadel was carried by
storm--here as at Venloo, the British troops being the first who
scaled the breach. Thus 2000 prisoners were taken; and the garrison
of Fort Chatreuse were so disheartened at the speedy fall of the
citadel, that they capitulated a few days later.

This brought the first campaign of the war to an end. It had been
very short, but its effect had been great. Kaiserwerth had been
taken, and the Lower Rhine opened; four fortified places on the
Meuse had been captured; the enemy had been driven back from the
borders of Holland; and the allied army had, in the possession of
Liege, an advanced post in the heart of Flanders for the
recommencement of the campaign in the spring. And all this had been
done in the face of a large French army, which had never ventured
to give battle even to save the beleaguered fortresses.

The army now went into winter quarters, and Marlborough returned at
once to England.

Upon the voyage down the Meuse, in company with the Dutch
commissioners, he had a very narrow escape. The boat was captured
by a French partisan leader, who had made an incursion to the
river. The earl had with him an old servant named Gill, who, with
great presence of mind, slipped into his master's hand an old
passport made out in the name of General Churchill. The French,
intent only upon plunder, and not recognizing under the name of
Churchill their great opponent Marlborough, seized all the plate
and valuables in the boat, made prisoners of the small detachment
of soldiers on board, but suffered the rest of the passengers,
including the earl and the Dutch commissioners, to pass unmolested.

Thus, had it not been for the presence of mind of an old servant,
the Earl of Marlborough would have been taken a prisoner to France;
and since it was his genius and diplomatic power alone which kept
the alliance together, and secured victory for their arms, the
whole issue of the war, the whole future of Europe, would have been
changed.



Chapter 8: The Old Mill.

A considerable portion of the allied army were quartered in the
barracks and forts of Liege, in large convents requisitioned for
the purpose, and in outlying villages. The 5th dragoons had
assigned to them a convent some two miles from the town. The monks
had moved out, and gone to an establishment of the same order in
the town, and the soldiers were therefore left to make the best
they could of their quarters. There was plenty of room for the men,
but for the horses there was some difficulty. The cloisters were
very large, and these were transformed into stables, and boards
were fastened up on the open faces to keep out the cold; others
were stalled in sheds and outbuildings; and the great refectory, or
dining hall, was also strewn thick with straw, and filled with four
rows of horses.

In the afternoon the officers generally rode or walked down into
the town. One day, Rupert Holliday with Pat Dillon had met their
friends Lord Fairholm and Sir John Loveday, whose regiment was
quartered in the town, at the principal wine shop, a large
establishment, which was the great gathering place of the officers
of the garrison. There an immense variety of bright uniforms were
to be seen; English, German, and Dutch, horse, foot, and artillery;
while the serving men hurried about through the throng with trays
piled with beer mugs, or with wine and glasses.

"Who is that officer," Dillon asked, "in the Hessian cavalry
uniform? Methinks he eyes you with no friendly look."

Rupert and his friends glanced at the officer pointed out.

"It is that fellow Fulke," Sir John said. "I heard he had managed
to obtain a commission in the army of the Landgrave of Hesse. You
must keep a smart lookout, Master Rupert, for his presence bodes
you no good. He is in fitting company; that big German officer next
to him is the Graff Muller, a turbulent swashbuckler, but a famous
swordsman--a fellow who would as soon run you through as look at
you, and who is a disgrace to the Margrave's army, in which I
wonder much that he is allowed to stay."

"Who is the fellow you are speaking of?" Dillon asked.

"A gentleman with whom our friend Rupert had a difference of
opinion," Sir John Loveday laughed. "There is a blood feud between
them. Seriously, the fellow has a grudge against our friend, and as
he is the sort of man to gratify himself without caring much as to
the means he uses, I should advise Master Holliday not to trust
himself out alone after dark. There are plenty of ruined men in
these German regiments who would willingly cut a throat for a
guinea, especially if offered them by one of their own officers."

"The scoundrel is trying to get Muller to take up his quarrel, or I
am mistaken," Lord Fairholm, who had been watching the pair
closely, said. "They are glancing this way, and Fulke has been
talking earnestly. But ruffian as he is, Muller is of opinion that
for a notorious swordsman like him to pick a quarrel with a lad
like our friend would be too rank, and would, if he killed him,
look so much like murder that even he dare not face it; he has
shaken his head very positively."

"But why should not this Fulke take the quarrel in his own hands?"
Dillon asked, surprised. "Unless he is the rankest of cowards he
might surely consider himself a match for our little cornet?"

"Our little cornet has a neat hand with the foils," Lord Fairholm
said drily, "and Master Fulke is not unacquainted with the fact."

"Why, Rupert," Dillon said, turning to him, "you have never said
that you ever had a foil in your hand!"

"You never asked me," Rupert said, smiling. "But I have practised
somewhat with the colonel my grandfather. And now it is time to be
off, Dillon; we have to walk back."

Four days later, as Rupert Holliday was standing in the barrack
yard, his troop having just been dismissed drill, a trooper of the
1st dragoons rode into the yard, and after asking a question of one
of the men, rode up to him and handed him a note.

Somewhat surprised he opened it, and read as follows:

"My dear Master Holliday--Sir John Loveday and myself are engaged
in an adventure which promises some entertainment, albeit it is not
without a spice of danger. We need a good comrade who can on
occasion use his sword, and we know that we can rely on you. On
receipt of this, please mount your horse and ride to the old mill
which lies back from the road in the valley beyond Dettinheim.
There you will find your sincere friend, Fairholm.

"P.S. It would be as well not to mention whither you are going to
ride."

It was the first note that Rupert had received from Lord Fairholm,
and delighted at the thought of an adventure, he called Hugh, and
bade him saddle his horse.

"Shall I go with you, Master Rupert?" Hugh asked, for he generally
rode behind Rupert as his orderly.

Rupert did not answer for a moment. Lord Fairholm had asked him to
tell no one; but he meant, no doubt, that he should tell none of
his brother officers. On Hugh's silence, whatever happened, he
could rely, and he would be useful to hold the horses. At any rate,
if not wanted, he could return.

"Ay, Hugh, you can come; and look you, slip a brace of pistols
quietly into each of our holsters."

With a momentary look of surprise, Hugh withdrew to carry out his
instructions; and ten minutes later, Rupert, followed by his
orderly, rode out of the convent.

The mill in question lay some three miles distant, and about half a
mile beyond the little hamlet of Dettinheim. It stood some distance
from the road, up a quiet valley, and was half hidden in trees. It
had been worked by a stream that ran down the valley. It was a
dark, gloomy-looking structure; and the long green weeds that hung
from the great wheel, where the water from the overshot trough
splashed and tumbled over it, showed that it had been for some time
abandoned. These things had been noticed by Rupert when riding past
it some time before, for, struck with the appearance of the mill,
he had ridden up the valley to inspect it.

On his ride to Lord Fairholm's rendezvous, he wondered much what
could be the nature of the adventure in which they were about to
embark. He knew that both his friends were full of life and high
spirits, and his thoughts wandered between some wild attempt to
carry off a French officer of importance, or an expedition to
rescue a lovely damsel in distress. Hugh, equally wondering, but
still more ignorant of the nature of the expedition, rode quietly
on behind.

The road was an unfrequented one, and during the last two miles'
ride they did not meet a single person upon it. The hamlet of
Dettinheim contained four or five houses only, and no one seemed
about. Another five minutes' riding took them to the entrance to
the little valley in which the mill stood. They rode up to it, and
then dismounted.

"It's a lonesome dismal-looking place, Master Rupert. It doesn't
seem to bode good. Of course you know what you're come for, sir;
but I don't like the look of the place, nohow."

"It does not look cheerful, Hugh; but I am to meet Lord Fairholm
and Sir John Loveday here."

"I don't see any sign of them, Master Rupert. I'd be careful if I
were you, for it's just the sort of place for a foul deed to be
done in. It does not look safe."

"It looks old and haunted," Rupert said; "but as that is its
natural look, I don't see it can help it. The door is open, so my
friends are here."

"Look out, Master Rupert; you may be running into a snare."

Rupert paused a moment, and the thought flashed across his mind
that it might, as Hugh said, be a snare; but with Lord Fairholm's
letter in his pocket, he dismissed the idea.

"You make me nervous, Hugh, with your suggestions. Nevertheless I
will be on my guard;" and he drew his sword as he entered the mill.

As he did so, Hugh, who was holding the horses' bridles over his
arm, snatched a brace of pistols from the holsters, cocked them,
and stood eagerly listening. He heard Rupert walk a few paces
forward, and then pause, and shout "Where are you, Fairholm?"

Then he heard a rush of heavy feet, a shout from Rupert, a clash of
swords, and a scream of agony.

All this was the work of a second; and as Hugh dropped the reins
and rushed forward to his master's assistance, he heard a noise
behind him, and saw a dozen men issue from behind the trees, and
run towards him.

Coming from the light, Hugh could with difficulty see what was
taking place in the darkened chamber before him. In an instant,
however, he saw Rupert standing with his back to a wall, with a
dead man at his feet, and four others hacking and thrusting at him.
Rushing up, Hugh fired his two pistols. One of the men dropped to
the ground, the other with an oath reeled backwards.

"Quick, sir! there are a dozen men just upon us."

Rupert ran one of his opponents through the shoulder, and as the
other drew back shouted to Hugh, "Up the stairs, Hugh! Quick!"

The two lads sprang up the wide steps leading to the floor above,
just as the doorway was darkened by a mass of men. The door at the
top of the steps yielded to their rush, the rotten woodwork giving,
and the door falling to the ground. Two or three pistol bullets
whizzed by their ears, just as they leapt through the opening.

"Up another floor, Hugh; and easy with the door."

The door at the top of the next ladder creaked heavily as they
pushed it back on its hinges.

"Look about, Hugh, for something to pile against it."

The shutters of the window were closed, but enough light streamed
through the chinks and crevices for them to see dimly. There was
odd rubbish strewn all about, and in one corner a heap of decaying
sacks. To these both rushed, and threw some on the floor by the
door, placing their feet on them to keep them firm, just as with a
rush the men came against it. This door was far stronger than the
one below, but it gave before the weight.

"The hinges will give," Hugh exclaimed; but at the moment Rupert
passed his thin rapier through one of the chinks of the rough
boards which formed it, and a yell was heard on the outside. The
pressure against the door ceased instantly; and Rupert bade Hugh
run for some more sacks, while he threw himself prone on them on
the ground.

It was well he did so, for, as he expected, a half-dozen pistol
shots were heard, and the bullets crashed through the woodwork.

"Keep out of the line of fire, Hugh."

Hugh did so, and threw down the sacks close to the door. Several
times he ran backwards and forwards across the room, the assailants
still firing through the door. Then Rupert leapt up, and the pile
of sacks were rapidly heaped against the door, just as the men
outside, in hopes that they had killed the defenders, made another
rush against it.

This time, however, the pile of sacks had given it strength and
solidity, and it hardly shook under the assault. Then came volleys
of curses and imprecations, in German, from outside; and then the
lads could hear the steps descend the stairs, and a loud and angry
consultation take place below.

"Open the shutters, Hugh, and let us see where we are."

It was a chamber of some forty feet square, and, like those below
it, of considerable height. It was like the rest of the mill, built
of rough pine, black with age. It had evidently been used as a
granary.

"This is a nice trap we have fallen into, Hugh, and I doubt me if
Lord Fairholm ever saw the letter with his name upon it which lured
me here. However, that is not the question now; the thing is how we
are to get out of the trap. How many were there outside, do you
think?"

"There seemed to me about a dozen, Master Rupert, but I got merely
a blink at them."

"If it were not for their pistols we might do something, Hugh; but
as it is, it is hopeless."

Looking out from the window they saw that it was over the great
water wheel, whose top was some fifteen feet below them, with the
water running to waste from the inlet, which led from the reservoir
higher up the valley.

Presently they heard a horse gallop up to the front of the mill,
and shortly after the sound of a man's voice raised in anger. By
this time it was getting dark.

"What'll be the end of this, Master Rupert? We could stand a siege
for a week, but they'd hardly try that."

"What's that?" Rupert said. "There's some one at the door again."

They came back, but all was quiet. Listening attentively, however,
they heard a creaking, as of someone silently descending the
stairs. For some time all was quiet, except that they could hear
movements in the lower story of the mill. Presently Rupert grasped
Hugh's arm.

"Do you smell anything, Hugh?"

"Yes, sir, I smell a smoke."

"The scoundrels have set the mill on fire, Hugh."

In another minute or two the smell became stronger, and then
wreaths of smoke could be seen curling up through the crevices in
the floor.

"Run through the other rooms, Hugh; let us see if there is any
means of getting down."

There were three other rooms, but on opening the shutters they
found in each case a sheer descent of full forty feet to the
ground, there being no outhouses whose roofs would afford them a
means of descent.

"We must rush downstairs, Hugh. It is better to be shot as we go
out, than be roasted here."

Rapidly they tore away the barrier of sacks, and Rupert put his
thumb on the latch. He withdrew it with a sharp exclamation.

"They have jammed the latch, Hugh. That was what that fellow we
heard was doing."

The smoke was now getting very dense, and they could with
difficulty breathe. Rupert put his head out of the window.

"There is a little window just over the wheel," he said. "If we
could get down to the next floor we might slip out of that and get
in the wheel without being noticed.

"Look about, Hugh," he exclaimed suddenly; "there must be a
trapdoor somewhere for lowering the sacks. There is a wheel hanging
to the ceiling; the trap must be under that."

In a minute the trap was found, and raised. The smoke rushed up in
a volume, and the boys looked with dismay at the dense murk below.

"It's got to be done, Hugh. Tie that bit of sacking, quick, over
your nose and mouth, while I do the same. Now lower yourself by
your arms, and drop; it won't be above fifteen feet. Hold your
breath, and rush straight to the window. I heard them open it. Now,
both together now."

The lads fell over their feet, and were in another minute at the
window. The broad top of the great wheel stretched out level with
them, hiding the window from those who might have been standing
below. The wheel itself was some thirty feet in diameter, and was
sunk nearly half its depth in the ground, the water running off by
a deep tail race.

"We might lie flat on the top of the wheel," Hugh said.

"We should be roasted to death when the mill is fairly in flames.
No, Hugh; we must squeeze through this space between the wall and
the wheel, slip down by the framework, and keep inside the wheel.
There is no fear of that burning, and we shall get plenty of fresh
air down below the level of the mill.

"I will go first, Hugh. Mind how you go, for these beams are all
slimy; get your arm well round, and slip down as far as the axle."

It was not an easy thing to do, and Rupert lost his hold and
slipped down the last ten feet, hurting himself a good deal in his
fall. He was soon on his feet again, and helped to break the fall
of Hugh, who lost his hold and footing at the axle, and would have
hurt himself greatly, had not Rupert caught him, both boys falling
with a crash in the bottom of the wheel.

They were some little time before regaining their feet, for both
were much hurt. Their movements were, however, accelerated by the
water, which fell in a heavy shower from above, through the leaks
in the buckets of the wheel.

"Are you hurt much, Master Rupert?"

"I don't think I am broken at all, Hugh, but I am hurt all over.
How are you?"

"I am all right, I think. It's lucky the inside of this wheel is
pretty smooth, like a big drum."

The position was not a pleasant one. A heavy shower of water from
above filled the air with spray, and with their heads bent down it
was difficult to breathe. The inside planks of the wheel were so
slimy that standing was almost impossible, and at the slightest
attempt at movement they fell. Above, the flames were already
darting out through the windows and sides of the mill.

"Do you not think we might crawl out between the wheel and the
wall, and make our way down the tail race, Master Rupert? This
water is chilling me to the bones."

"I think it safer to stop where we are, Hugh. Those fellows are
sure to be on the watch. They will expect to see us jump out of the
upper window the last thing, and will wait to throw our bodies--for
of course we should be killed--into the flames, to hide all trace
of us. We have only to wait quietly here. It is not pleasant; but
after all the trouble we have had to save our lives, it would be a
pity to risk them again. And I have a very particular desire to be
even with that fellow, who is, I doubt not, at the bottom of all
this."

Soon the flames were rushing out in great sheets from the mill, and
even in the wheel the heat of the atmosphere was considerable.
Presently a great crash was heard inside.

"There is a floor fallen," Rupert said. "I think we may move now;
those fellows will have made off secure that--

"Hullo! What's that?"

The exclamation was caused by a sudden creaking noise, and the
great wheel began slowly to revolve. The fall of the floor had
broken its connection with the machinery in the mill, and left
free, it at once yielded to the weight of the water in its buckets.
The supply of water coming down was small, and the wheel stiff from
long disuse, therefore it moved but slowly. The motion, however,
threw both lads from their feet, and once down, the rotatory motion
rendered it impossible for them to regain their feet.

After the first cry of surprise, neither spoke; across both their
minds rushed the certainty of death.

How long the terrible time that followed lasted, neither of them
ever knew. The sensation was that of being pounded to death. At one
moment they were together, then separated; now rolling over and
over in a sort of ball, then lifted up and cast down into the
bottom of the wheel with a crash; now with their heads highest, now
with their feet. It was like a terrible nightmare; but gradually
the sharp pain of the blows and falls were less vivid--a dull
sensation came over them--and both lost consciousness.

Rupert was the first to open his eyes, and for a time lay but in
dreamy wonder as to where he was, and what had happened. He seemed
to be lying under a great penthouse, with a red glow pervading
everything. Gradually his thoughts took shape, and he remembered
what had passed, and struggling painfully into a sitting position,
looked round.

The wheel no longer revolved; there was no longer the constant
splash of water. Indeed the wheel existed as a wheel no longer.

As he looked round the truth lighted upon him. The burning mill had
fallen across the wheel, crushing, at the top, the sides together.
The massive timber had given no further, and the wheel formed a
sort of roof, sloping from the outer wall, built solidly up against
it, to the opposite foot. Above, the timber of this wall glared and
flickered, but the soddened timber of the wheel could have resisted
a far greater amount of heat. The leet had of course been carried
away with the fall, and the water would be flowing down the valley.
The heat was very great, but the rush of air up the deep cut of the
mill race rendered it bearable.

Having once grasped the facts--and as he doubted not the fall must
have occurred soon after he lost consciousness, and so saved him
from being bruised to death--Rupert turned to Hugh.

He was quite insensible, but his heart still beat. Rupert crawled
out of the wheel, and found pools of water in the mill race, from
which he brought double handfuls, and sprinkled Hugh's face. Then
as he himself grew stronger from fresh air and a copious dousing of
his face and head with water, he dragged Hugh out, and laying him
beside a pool dashed water on his face and chest. A deep sigh was
the first symptom of returning consciousness. He soon, to Rupert's
delight, opened his eyes.

After a time he sat up, but was too much hurt to rise. After some
consultation, Rupert left him, and went alone down to the hamlet of
Dettinheim, where, after much knocking, he roused some of the
inhabitants, who had only a short time before returned from the
burning mill. Sodden and discoloured as it was, Rupert's uniform
was still recognizable, and by the authority this conveyed, and a
promise of ample reward, four men were induced to return with him
to the mill, and carry Hugh down to the village.

This they reached just as the distant clock of Liege cathedral
struck two. A bed was given up to them, and in half an hour both
lads were sound asleep.



Chapter 9: The Duel.

Great was the excitement in the 5th Dragoons when, upon the arrival
of Rupert and Hugh--the former of whom was able to ride, but the
latter was carried by on a stretcher--they learned the attack which
had been made upon one of their officers. The "Little Cornet" was a
general favourite, short as was the time since he had joined; while
Hugh was greatly liked by the men of his own troop. Rupert's
colonel at once sent for him, to learn the particulars of the
outrage. Rupert was unable to give farther particulars as to his
assailants than that they were German soldiers; that much the dim
light had permitted him to see, but more than that he could not
say. He stated his reasons for believing Sir Richard Fulke was the
originator of the attack, since he had had a quarrel with him in
England, but owned that, beyond suspicions, he had no proof. The
colonel at once rode down to headquarters, and laid a complaint
before the Earl of Athlone, who promised that he would cause every
inquiry to be made. Then the general commanding the Hesse
contingent was communicated with, and the colonel of the cavalry
regiment to which Sir Richard Fulke belonged was sent for.

He stated that Captain Fulke had been away on leave of absence for
three days, and that he had gone to England. The regiment was,
however, paraded, and it was found that five troopers were missing.
No inquiry, however, could elicit from any of the others a
confession that they had been engaged in any fray, and as all were
reported as having been in by ten o'clock, except the five missing
men, there was no clue as to the parties engaged. The five men
might have deserted, but the grounds for suspicion were very
strong. Still, as no proof could be obtained, the matter was
suffered to drop.

The affair caused, however, much bad feeling between the two
regiments, and the men engaged in affrays when they met, until the
order was issued that they should only be allowed leave into the
town on alternate days. This ill feeling spread, however, beyond
the regiments concerned. There had already been a good deal of
jealousy upon the part of the Continental troops of the honour
gained by the British in being first in at the breaches of Venloo
and Liege, and this feeling was now much embittered. Duels between
the officers became matters of frequent occurrence, in spite of the
strict orders issued against that practice.

As Rupert had anticipated, the letter by which he had been
entrapped turned out a forgery. Lord Fairholm was extremely
indignant when he heard the use that had been made of his name, and
at once made inquiries as to the trooper who had carried the note
to Rupert. This man he found without difficulty; upon being
questioned, he stated that he had just returned from carrying a
message when he was accosted by a German officer who offered him a
couple of marks to carry a letter up to an officer of the 5th
dragoons. Thinking that there was no harm in doing so, he had at
once accepted the offer. Upon being asked if he could recognize the
officer if he saw him, he replied that he had scarcely noticed his
face, and did not think that he could pick him out from others.

The first three or four duels which took place had not been
attended with fatal result; but about three weeks after the
occurrence of the attack on Rupert, Captain Muller, who had been
away on leave, returned, and publicly announced his intention of
avenging the insult to his regiment by insulting and killing one of
the officers of the 5th dragoons.

The report of the threat caused some uneasiness among the officers,
for the fellow's reputation as a swordsman and notorious duellist
was so well known, that it was felt that any one whom he might
select as his antagonist would be as good as a dead man. A
proposition was started to report the matter to the general, but
this was decisively negatived, as it would have looked like a
request for protection, and would so affect the honour of the
regiment.

There was the satisfaction that but one victim could be slain, for
the aggressor in a fatal duel was sure to be punished by removal
into some corps stationed at a distance.

Rupert was silent during these discussions, but he silently
determined that he would, if the opportunity offered, take up the
gauntlet, for he argued that he was the primary cause of the feud;
and remembering the words of Monsieur Dessin and Maitre Dalboy, he
thought that, skillful a swordsman as Muller might be, he would yet
have at least a fair chance of victory, while he knew that so much
could not be said for any of the other officers of his regiment.

The opportunity occurred two days later. Rupert, with his friend
Dillon, went down to the large saloon, which was the usual
rendezvous with his friends Fairholm and Loveday. The place was
crowded with officers, but Rupert soon perceived his friends,
sitting at a small table. He and Dillon placed two chairs there
also, and were engaged in conversation when a sudden lull in the
buzz of talk caused them to look up.

Captain Muller had just entered the saloon with a friend, and the
lull was caused by curiosity. As his boast had been the matter of
public talk; and as all noticed that two officers of the 5th were
present, it was anticipated that a scene would ensue.

A glance at Dillon's face showed that the blood had left his cheek;
for, brave as the Irishman was, the prospect of being killed like a
dog by this native swordsman could not but be terrible to him, and
he did not doubt for a moment that he would be selected. Captain
Muller walked leisurely up to the bar, drank off a bumper of raw
Geneva, and then turned and looked round the room. As his eyes fell
on the uniform of the 5th, a look of satisfaction came over his
face, and fixing his eyes on Dillon, he walked leisurely across the
room.

Rupert happened to be sitting on the outside of the table, and he
at once rose and as calmly advanced towards the German.

There was now a dead silence in the room, and all listened intently
to hear what the lad had to say to the duellist. Rupert spoke
first; and although he did not raise his voice in the slightest,
not a sound was lost from one end of the room to the other.

"Captain Muller," he said, "I hear that you have made a boast that
you will kill the first officer of my regiment whom you met. I am,
I think, the first, and you have now the opportunity of proving
whether you are a mere cutthroat, or a liar."

A perfect gasp of astonishment was heard in the room. Dillon leapt
to his feet, exclaiming, "No, Rupert, I will not allow it! I am
your senior officer."

And the gallant fellow would have pushed forward, had not Lord
Fairholm put his hand on his shoulder and forced him back, saying:

"Leave him alone; he knows what he is doing."

The German took a step back, with a hoarse exclamation of rage and
surprise at Rupert's address, and put his hand to his sword. Then,
making a great effort to master his fury, he said:

"You are safe in crowing loud, little cockerel; but Captain Muller
does not fight with boys."

A murmur of approval ran round the room; for the prospect of this
lad standing up to be killed by so noted a swordsman was painful
alike to the German and English officers present.

"The same spirit appears to animate you and your friend Sir Richard
Fulke," Rupert said quietly. "He did not care about fighting a boy,
and so employed a dozen of his soldiers to murder him."

"It is a lie!" the captain thundered, "Beware, young sir, how you
tempt me too far."

"You know it is not a lie," Rupert said calmly. "I know he told you
he was afraid to fight me, for that I was more than his match; and
it seems to me, sir, that this seeming pity for my youth is a mere
cover of the fact that you would rather choose as your victim
someone less skilled in fence than I happen to be. Are you a
coward, too, sir, as well as a ruffian?"

"Enough!" the German gasped.

"Swartzberg," he said, turning to his friend, "make the
arrangements; for I vow I will kill this insolent puppy in the
morning."

Lord Fairholm at once stepped forward to the Hessian captain.

"I shall have the honour to act as Mr. Holliday's second. Here is
my card. I shall be at home all the evening."

Rupert now resumed his seat, while Captain Muller and his friend
moved to the other end of the saloon. Here he was surrounded by a
number of German officers, who endeavoured to dissuade him from
fighting a duel in which the killing of his adversary would be
condemned by the whole army as child murder.

"Child or not," he said ferociously, "he dies tomorrow. You think
he was mad to insult me. It was conceit, not madness. His head is
turned; a fencing master once praised his skill at fence, and he
thinks himself a match for me--me! the best swordsman, though I say
it, in the German army. No, I would not have forced a quarrel on
him, for he is beneath my notice; but I am right glad that he has
taken up the glove I meant to throw down to his fellow. In killing
him I shall not only have punished the only person who has for many
years ventured to insult Otto Muller, but I shall have done a
service to a friend."

No sooner had Rupert regained his seat than Dillon exclaimed,
"Rupert, I shall never forgive myself. Others think you are mad,
but I know that you sacrifice yourself to save me.

"You did me an ill service, my lord," he said, turning to Lord
Fairholm, "by holding me back when I would have taken my proper
place. I shall never hold up my head again. But it will not be for
long, for when he has killed Rupert I will seek him wherever he may
go, and force him to kill me, too."

"My dear Dillon, I knew what I was doing," Lord Fairholm said. "It
was clear that either he or you had to meet this German cutthroat."

"But," Dillon asked, in astonishment, "why would you rather that
your friend Rupert should be killed than I?"

"You are not putting the case fairly," Lord Fairholm said. "Did it
stand so, I should certainly prefer that you should run this risk
than that Rupert should do so. But the case stands thus. In the
first place, it is really his quarrel; and in the second, while it
is certain that this German could kill you without fail, it is by
no means certain that he will kill Rupert."

Dillon's eyes opened with astonishment.

"Not kill him! Do you think that he will spare him after the way he
has been insulted before all of us?"

"No, there is little chance of that. It is his power, not his will,
that I doubt. I do not feel certain; far from it, I regard the
issue as doubtful; and yet I feel a strong confidence in the
result; for you must know, Master Dillon, that Rupert Holliday, boy
as he is, is probably the best swordsman in the British army."

"Rupert Holliday!" ejaculated Dillon, incredulously.

Lord Fairholm nodded.

"It is as I say, Dillon; and although they say this German is also
the best in his, his people are in no way famous that way. Had it
been with the best swordsman in the French army that Rupert had to
fight, my mind would be less at ease.

"But come now, we have finished our liquor and may as well be off.
We are the centre of all eyes here, and it is not pleasant to be a
general object of pity, even when that pity is ill bestowed.
Besides, I have promised to be at home to wait for Muller's second.

"I will come round to your quarters, Rupert, when I have arranged
time and place."

The calm and assured manner of Rupert's two friends did more to
convince Dillon that they were speaking in earnest, and that they
really had confidence in Rupert's skill, than any asseveration on
their part could have done, but he was still astounded at the news
that this boy friend of his, who had never even mentioned that he
could fence, could by any possibility be not only a first-rate
swordsman, but actually a fair match for this noted duellist.

Upon the way up to the barracks, Rupert persuaded his friend to say
nothing as to his skill, but it was found impossible to remain
silent, for when the officers heard of the approaching duel there
was a universal cry of indignation, and the colonel at once avowed
his intention of riding off to Lord Athlone to request him to put a
stop to a duel which could be nothing short of murder.

"The honour of the regiment shall not suffer," he said, sternly,
"for I myself will meet this German cutthroat."

Seeing that his colonel was resolute, Rupert made a sign to Dillon
that he might speak, and he accordingly related to his astonished
comrades the substance of what Lord Fairholm had told him. Rupert's
brother officers could not believe the news; but Rupert suggested
that the matter could be easily settled if some foils were brought,
adding that half-an-hour's fencing would be useful to him, and get
his hand into work again. The proposal was agreed to, and first one
and then another of those recognized as the best swordsmen of the
regiment, took their places against him, but without exerting
himself in the slightest, he proved himself so infinitely their
superior that their doubts speedily changed into admiration, and
the meeting of the morrow was soon regarded with a feeling of not
only hope, but confidence.

It was late before Lord Fairholm rode up to the cornet's.

"Did you think I was never coming?" he asked as he entered Rupert's
quarters. "The affair has created quite an excitement, and just as
I was starting, two hours back, a message came to me to go to
headquarters. I found his lordship in a great passion, and he rated
me soundly, I can tell you, for undertaking to be second in such a
disgracefully uneven contest as this. When he had had his say, of
course I explained matters, pointed out that this German bully was
a nuisance to the whole army, and that you being, as I myself could
vouch, a sort of phenomenon with the sword, had taken the matter up
to save your brother officer from being killed. I assured him that
I had the highest authority for your being one of the best
swordsmen in Europe, and that therefore I doubted not that you were
a match for this German. I also pointed out respectfully to him
that if he were to interfere to stop it, as he had intended, the
matter would be certain to lead to many more meetings between the
officers of the two nationalities. Upon this the general after some
talk decided to allow the matter to go on, but said that whichever
way it went he would write to the generals commanding all the
divisions of the allied army, and would publish a general order to
the effect that henceforth no duels shall be permitted except after
the dispute being referred to a court of honour of five senior
officers, by whom the necessity or otherwise of the duel shall be
determined; and that in the case of any duel fought without such
preliminary, both combatants shall be dismissed the service,
whether the wounds given be serious or not. I think the proposal is
an excellent one, and likely to do much good; for in a mixed army
like ours, causes for dispute and jealousy are sure to arise, and
without some stringent regulation we should be always fighting
among ourselves."

At an early hour on the following morning a stranger would have
supposed that some great military spectacle was about to take
place, so large was the number of officers riding from Liege and
the military stations around it towards the place fixed upon for
the duel. The event had created a very unusual amount of
excitement, because, in the first place, the attempt to murder
Rupert at the mill of Dettinheim had created much talk. The
intention of Captain Muller to force a quarrel on the officers of
the 5th had also been a matter of public comment, while the manner
in which the young cornet of that regiment had taken up the gage,
added to the extraordinary inequality between the combatants, gave
a special character to the duel.

It was eight in the morning when Rupert Holliday rode up to the
place fixed upon, a quiet valley some three miles from the town. On
the slopes of hills on either side were gathered some two or three
hundred officers, English, Dutch, and German, the bottom of the
valley, which was some forty yards across, being left clear. There
was, however, none of the life and animation which generally
characterize a military gathering. The British officers looked
sombre and stern at what they deemed nothing short of the
approaching murder of their gallant young countryman; and the
Germans were grave and downcast, for they felt ashamed of the
inequality of the contest. Among both parties there was earnest
though quiet talk of arresting the duel, but such a step would have
been absolutely unprecedented.

The arrival of the officers of the 5th, who rode up in a body a few
minutes before Rupert arrived with Lord Fairholm and his friend
Dillon, somewhat changed the aspect of affairs, for their cheerful
faces showed that from some cause, at which the rest were unable to
guess, they by no means regarded the death of their comrade as a
foregone event. As they alighted and gave their horses to the
orderlies who had followed them, their acquaintances gathered round
them full of expressions of indignation and regret at the
approaching duel.

"Is there any chance of this horrible business being stopped?" an
old colonel asked Colonel Forbes as he alighted. "There is a report
that the general has got wind of it, and will at the last moment
put an end to it by arresting both of them."

"No, I fancy that the matter will go on," Colonel Forbes said.

"But it is murder," Colonel Chambers said indignantly.

"Not so much murder as you think, Chambers, for I tell you this lad
is simply a marvel with his sword."

"Ah," the colonel said. "I had not heard that; but in no case could
a lad like this have a chance with this Muller, a man who has not
only the reputation of being the best swordsman in Germany, who now
has been in something like thirty duels, and has more than twenty
times killed his man."

"I know the ruffian's skill and address," Colonel Forbes said; "and
yet I tell you that I regard my young friend's chance as by no
means desperate."

Similar assurances had some effect in raising the spirits of the
English officers; still they refused to believe that a lad like a
recently joined cornet could have any real chance with the noted
duellist, and their hopes faded away altogether when Rupert rode
up. He was, of course, a stranger to most of those present, and his
smooth boyish face and slight figure struck them with pity and
dismay.

Rupert, however, although a little pale, seemed more cheerful than
anyone on the ground, and smiled and talked to Lord Fairholm and
Dillon as if awaiting the commencement of an ordinary military
parade.

"That is a gallant young fellow," was the universal exclamation of
most of those present, whatever their nationality. "He faces death
as calmly as if he were ignorant of his danger."

Five minutes later Captain Muller rode up, with his second; and the
preparations for the conflict at once began.

All except the combatants and their seconds retired to the slopes.
Lord Fairholm and Captain Swartzberg stood in the middle of the
bottom. Rupert stood back at a short distance, talking quietly with
Dillon and his colonel; while Captain Muller walked about near the
foot of the slope, loudly saluting those present with whom he was
acquainted.

There was but little loss of time in choosing the ground, for the
bottom of the valley was flat and smooth, and the sun was concealed
beneath a grey bank of clouds, which covered the greater part of
the sky, so that there was no advantage of light.

When all was arranged the length of the swords was measured. Both
had come provided with a pair of duelling rapiers, and as all four
weapons were of excellent temper and of exactly even length, no
difficulty was met with here. Then a deep hush fell upon the
gathering as the seconds returned to their principals.

It had been arranged by the seconds that they should not fight in
uniform, as the heavy boots impeded their action. Both were
accordingly attired in evening dress. Rupert wore dark puce satin
breeches, white stockings, and very light buckled shoes. His
opponent was in bright orange-coloured breeches, with stockings to
match. Coats and waistcoats were soon removed, and the shirt
sleeves rolled up above the elbow.

As they took stand face to face, something like a groan went
through the spectators. Rupert stood about five feet nine, slight,
active, with smooth face, and head covered with short curls. The
German stood six feet high, with massive shoulders, and arms
covered with muscle. His huge moustache was twisted upwards towards
his ears; his hair was cropped short, and stood erect all over his
head. It was only among a few of the shrewder onlookers that the
full value of the tough, whipcordy look of Rupert's frame, and the
extreme activity promised by his easy pose, were appreciated. The
general opinion went back to the former verdict, that the disparity
was so great that, even putting aside the German's well-known
skill, the duel was little short of murder.

Just before they stood on guard, Captain Muller said, in a loud
voice, "Now, sir, if you have any prayer to say, say it; for I warn
you, I will kill you like a dog."

A cry of "Shame!" arose from the entire body of spectators; when it
abated Rupert said, quietly but clearly, "My prayers are said,
Captain Muller. If yours are not, say them now, for assuredly I
will kill you--not as a dog, for a dog is a true and faithful
animal, but as I would kill a tiger, or any other beast whose
existence was a scourge to mankind."

A cheer of approbation arose from the circle; and with a groan of
rage Captain Muller took his stand. Rupert faced him in an instant,
and their swords crossed. For a short time the play was exceedingly
cautious on both sides, each trying to find out his opponent's
strength. Hitherto the German had thought but little of what Fulke
had told him that he had heard, of Rupert's skill; but the calm and
confident manner of the young Englishman now impressed him with the
idea that he really, boy as he was, must be something out of the
common way. The thought in no way abated his own assurance, it
merely taught him that it would be wiser to play cautiously at
first, instead of, as he had intended, making a fierce and rapid
attack at once, and finishing the struggle almost as soon as it
began.

The lightning speed with which his first thrusts were parried and
returned soon showed him the wisdom of the course he had adopted;
and the expression of arrogant disdain with which he had commenced
the fight speedily changed to one of care and determination. This
insolent boy was to be killed, but the operation must not be
carelessly carried out.

For a time he attempted by skillful play to get through Rupert's
guard, but the lad's sword always met him; and its point flashed so
quickly and vengefully forward, that several times it was only by
quick backward springs that he escaped from it.

The intense, but silent excitement among the spectators increased
with every thrust and parry; and every nerve seemed to tingle in
unison with the sharp clink of the swords. The German now
endeavoured to take advantage of his superior height, length of
arm, and strength, to force down Rupert's guard; but the latter
slipped away from him, bounding as lightly as a cat out of range,
and returning with such rapid and elastic springs, that the German
was in turn obliged to use his utmost activity to get back out of
reach.

So far several slight scratches had been given on both sides, but
nothing in any way to affect the combatants. As the struggle
continued, gaining every moment in earnestness and effort, a look
of anxiety gradually stole over the German's face, and the
perspiration stood thick on his forehead. He knew now that he had
met his match; and an internal feeling told him that although he
had exerted himself to the utmost, his opponent had not yet put out
his full strength and skill.

Rupert's face was unchanged since the swords had crossed. His mouth
was set, but in a half smile; his eye was bright; and his demeanour
rather that of a lad fencing with buttoned foils than that of one
contending for his life against a formidable foe.

Now thoroughly aware of his opponent's strength and tactics, Rupert
began to press the attack, and foot by foot drove his opponent back
to the spot at which the combat had commenced. Then, after a fierce
rally, he gave an opening; the German lunged, Rupert threw back his
body with the rapidity of lightning, lunging also as he did so. His
opponent's sword grazed his cheek as it passed, while his own ran
through the German's body until the hilt struck it. Muller fell
without a word, an inert mass; and the surgeon running up,
pronounced that life was already extinct.

The crowd of spectators now flocked down, the English with
difficulty repressing their exclamations of delight, and
congratulated Rupert on the result, which to them appeared almost
miraculous; while the senior German officer present came up to him,
and said:

"Although Captain Muller was a countryman of mine, sir, I rejoice
in the unexpected result of this duel. It has rid our army of a man
who was a scourge to it."

Plasters and bandages were now applied to Rupert's wounds; and in a
few minutes the whole party had left the valley, one German orderly
alone remaining to watch the body of the dead duellist until a
party could be sent out to convey it to the town for burial.



Chapter 10: The Battle Of The Dykes.

For some time after his duel with Captain Muller, it is probable
that the little cornet was, after Marlborough himself, the most
popular man in the British army in Flanders. He, however, bore his
honours quietly, shrinking from notice, and seldom going down into
the town. Any mention of the duel was painful to him; for although
he considered that he was perfectly justified in taking up the
quarrel forced upon his regiment, yet he sincerely regretted that
he should have been obliged to kill a man, however dangerous and
obnoxious, in cold blood.

Two days after the duel he received a letter from his grandfather.
It was only the second he had received. In the previous letter
Colonel Holliday alluded to something which he had said in a prior
communication, and Rupert had written back to say that no such
letter had come to hand. The answer ran as follows:

"My dear Grandson--Your letter has duly come to hand. I regret to
find that my first to you miscarried, and by comparing dates I
think that it must have been lost in the wreck of the brig Flora,
which was lost in a tempest on her way to Holland a few days after
I wrote. This being so, you are ignorant of the changes which have
taken place here, and which affect yourself in no slight degree.

"The match between your lady mother and Sir William Brownlow is broken
off. This took place just after you sailed for the wars. It was brought
about by our friend, Monsieur Dessin. This gentleman--who is, although
I know not his name, a French nobleman of title and distinction--received,
about the time you left, the news that he might shortly expect to hear
that the decree which had sent him into exile was reversed. Some little
time later a compatriot of his came down to stay with him. Monsieur
Dessin, who I know cherished ill feeling against Sir William for the
insult which his son had passed upon his daughter, and for various
belittling words respecting that young lady which Sir William had
in his anger permitted himself to use in public, took occasion when
he was riding through the streets of Derby, accompanied by his
friends, Lord Pomeroy and Sir John Hawkes, gentlemen of fashion and
repute, to accost him. Sir William swore at him as a French dancing
master; whereupon Monsieur Dessin at once challenged him to a duel.
Sir William refused with many scornful words to meet a man of such
kind, whereupon Monsieur Dessin, drawing Lord Pomeroy to him, in
confidence disclosed his name and quality, to which his
compatriot--also a French nobleman--testified, and of which he
offered to produce documents and proofs. They did then adjourn to a
tavern, where they called for a private room, to talk the matter
over out of earshot of the crowd; and after examining the proofs,
Lord Pomeroy and Sir John Hawkes declared that Sir William Brownlow
could not refuse the satisfaction which Monsieur Dessin demanded.

"It has always been suspected that Sir William was a man of small
courage, though of overbearing manner, and he was mightily put to
when he heard that he must fight with a man whom he justly regarded
as being far more than his match. So craven did he become, indeed,
that the gentlemen with him did not scruple to express their
disgust loudly. Monsieur Dessin said that, unless Sir William did
afford him satisfaction, he would trounce him publicly as a coward,
but that he had one other alternative to offer. All were mightily
surprised when he stated that this alternative was that he should
write a letter to Mistress Holliday renouncing all claim to her
hand. This Sir William for a time refused to do, blustering much;
but finally, having no stomach for a fight, and fearing the
indignity of a public whipping, he did consent so to do; and
Monsieur Dessin having called for paper and pens, the letter was
then written, and the four gentlemen signed as witnesses. The party
then separated, Lord Pomeroy and Sir John Hawkes riding off without
exchanging another word with Sir William Brownlow.

"Your lady mother was in a great taking when she received the
letter, and learned the manner in which it had come to be written.
Monsieur Dessin left the town, with his daughter, two days later.
He came over to take farewell of me, and expressed himself with
great feeling and heartiness as to the kindness which he was good
enough to say that I had shown him. I assured him, as you may
believe, that the action he had forced Mistress Holliday's suitor
to take left me infinitely his debtor.

"He promised to write to me from France, whither he was about to
return. He said that he regretted much that a vow he had sworn to
keep his name unknown in England, save and except his honour should
compel him to disclose it, prevented him from telling it; but that
he would in the future let me know it. After it was known that he
had left, Sir William Brownlow again attempted to make advances to
your lady mother; but she, who lacks not spirit, repulsed him so
scornfully that all fear of any future entanglement in that quarter
is at an end; at the which I have rejoiced mightily, although the
Chace, now that you have gone, is greatly changed to me.

"Farmer Parsons sends his duty to you, and his love to Hugh. I
think that it would not be ill taken if, in a short time, you were
to write to Mistress Holliday. Make no mention of her broken
espousal, which is a subject upon which she cares not to touch. The
Earl of Marlborough has been good enough to write me a letter
speaking in high terms of you. This I handed to her to read, and
although she said no word when she handed it back, I could see that
she was much moved.

"My pen runs not so fast as it did. I will therefore now conclude.

"YOUR LOVING GRANDFATHER."

This letter gave great pleasure to Rupert, not because it restored
to him the succession of the estates of the Chace, for of that he
thought but little, but because his mother was saved from a match
which would, he felt sure, have been an unhappy one for her.

The winter passed off quietly, and with the spring the two armies
again took the field. The campaign of 1803 was, like its
predecessor, marred by the pusillanimity and indecision of the
Dutch deputies, who thwarted all Marlborough's schemes for bringing
the French to a general engagement, and so ruined the English
general's most skillful plans, that the earl, worn out by
disappointment and disgust, wrote to the Queen, praying to be
relieved of his command and allowed to retire into private life,
and finally only remained at his post at his mistress's earnest
entreaty.

The campaign opened with the siege of Bonn, a strongly fortified
town held by the French, and of great importance to them, as being
the point by which they kept open communication between France and
their strong army in Germany. Marlborough himself commanded the
siege operations, having under him forty battalions, sixty
squadrons, and a hundred guns. General Overkirk, who, owing to the
death of the Earl of Athlone, was now second in command, commanded
the covering army, which extended from Liege to Bonn.

The siege commenced on the 3rd of May, and with such vigour was it
carried on that on the 9th the fort on the opposite side of the
Rhine was carried by storm; and as from this point the works
defending the town could all be taken in reverse, the place
surrendered on the 5th; the garrison, 3600 strong, being permitted
by the terms of capitulation to retire to Luxemburg.

Marshal Villeroi, who commanded the French army on the frontier,
finding that he could give no aid to Bonn, advanced against
Maestrich, which he hoped to surprise, before Overkirk could arrive
to its aid. On the way, however, he had to take the town of
Tangres, which was held by two battalions of infantry only. These,
however, defended themselves with astonishing bravery against the
efforts of a whole army, and for twenty-eight hours of continuous
fighting arrested the course of the enemy. At the end of that time
they were forced to surrender, but the time gained by their heroic
defence afforded time for Overkirk to bring up his army, and when
Villeroi arrived near Maestrich, he found the allies already there,
and so strongly posted that although his force was fully twice as
strong as theirs, he did not venture to attack.

Marlborough, upon the fall of Bonn, marched with the greatest
expedition to the assistance of his colleague. His cavalry reached
Maestrich on the 21st, his infantry three days later. On the 26th
of May he broke up the camp and advanced to undertake the grand
operation of the siege of Antwerp. The operation was to be
undertaken by a simultaneous advance of several columns.
Marlborough himself with the main wing was to confront Marshal
Villeroi. General Spaar was to attack that part of the French lines
which lay beyond the Scheldt. Cohorn was to force the passage of
that river in the territory of Hulst, and unite Spaar's attack with
that of Obdam, who with twenty-one battalions and sixteen squadrons
was to advance from Bergen op Zoom.

The commencement of this operation was well conducted. On the night
of the 26th Cohorn passed the Scheldt, and the next morning he and
Spaar made a combined attack on that part of the French lines
against which they had been ordered to act, and carried them after
severe fighting and the loss of 1200 men. Upon the following day
the Earl of Marlborough, riding through the camp, saw Rupert
Holliday, standing at the door of his tent. Beckoning him to him,
he said:

"Would you like a ride round Antwerp, Master Holliday? I have a
letter which I desire carried to General Obdam, whose force is at
Eckeron on the north of the city."

Upon Rupert saying that he should like it greatly, the earl bade
him be at his quarters in an hour's time.

"There is the dispatch," he said, when Rupert called upon him. "You
will give this to the general himself. I consider his position as
dangerous, for Marshal Villeroi may throw troops into the town, and
in that case the Marquis Bedmar may fall in great force upon any of
our columns now lying around him. I have warned Obdam of his
danger, and have begged him to send back his heavy baggage, to take
up a strong position, and if the enemy advance in force to fall
back to Bergen op Zoom. Should the general question you, you can
say that you are aware of the terms of the dispatch, and that I had
begged you to assure the general that my uneasiness on his account
was considerable."

The general then pointed out to Rupert on a map the route that he
should take so as to make a sweep round Antwerp, and warned him to
use every precaution, and to destroy the dispatch if there should
be danger of his being captured.

"Am I to return at once, sir?"

"No," the earl said. "If all goes well we shall in three days
invest the place, advancing on all sides, and you can rejoin your
corps when the armies unite."

Rupert's horse was already saddled on his return, and Hugh was in
readiness to accompany him as his orderly.

It was a thirty miles ride, and it was evening before he reached
Eckeron, having seen no enemy on his line of route.

He was at once conducted to the quarters of the Dutch general, who
received him politely, and read the dispatch which he had brought.
It did not strike Rupert that he was much impressed with its
contents, but he made no remark, and simply requested one of his
staff to see to Rupert's wants, and to have a tent pitched for him.

He spent a pleasant evening with the Dutch general's staff, most of
whom could talk French, while Hugh was hospitably entertained by
the sergeants of the staff.

The next morning the tents were struck, and the heavy baggage was,
in accordance with Lord Marlborough's orders, sent to the fortress
of Bergen op Zoom. But, to Rupert's surprise and uneasiness, no
attempt was made to carry out the second part of the instruction
contained in the dispatch.

The day passed quietly, and at night the party were very merry
round a campfire. At eight o'clock next morning a horseman rode
into camp with the news that the French were attacking the rear,
and that the army was cut off from the Scheldt!

The Earl of Marlborough's prevision had proved correct. The French
marshals had determined to take advantage of their central
position, and to crush one of their enemy's columns. On the evening
of the 29th, Marshal Villeroi detached Marshal Boufflers with
thirty companies of grenadiers and thirty squadrons of horse. These
marching all night reached Antwerp at daybreak without interruption,
and uniting with the force under the Marquis Bedmar, issued out
30,000 strong to attack Obdam. Sending off detached columns, who
moved round, and--unseen by the Dutch, who acted with as great
carelessness as if their foes had been 500 miles away--he took
possession of the roads on the dykes leading not only to Fort Lille
on the Scheldt, but to Bergen op Zoom, and fell suddenly upon the
Dutch army on all sides.

Scarcely had the messenger ridden into Eckeron, when a tremendous
roar of musketry broke out in all quarters, and the desperate
position into which the supineness of their general had suffered
them to fall, was apparent to all.

In a few minutes the confusion was terrible. Rupert and Hugh
hastily saddled their horses, and had just mounted when General
Obdam with twenty troopers rode past at full gallop.

"Where can he be going?" Rupert said. "He is not riding towards
either of the points attacked."

"It seems to me that he is bolting, Master Rupert, just flying by
some road the French have not yet occupied."

"Impossible!" Rupert said.

But it was so, and the next day the runaway general himself brought
the news of his defeat to the League, announcing that he had
escaped with thirty horse, and that the rest of his army was
destroyed. It is needless to say that General Obdam never
afterwards commanded a Dutch army in the field.

The second part of the news which he brought the Hague was not
correct. General Schlangenberg, the second in command, at once
assumed the command. The Dutch rallied speedily from their
surprise, and the advancing columns of the enemy were soon met with
a desperate resistance. In front General Boufflers attacked with
twenty battalions of French troops, headed by the grenadiers he had
brought with him, while a strong Spanish force barred the retreat.
Under such circumstances many troops would at once have laid down
their arms; but such a thought never occurred to the Dutchmen of
Schlangenberg's army.

While a portion of this force opposed Boufflers' troops pressing on
their front, the rest threw themselves against those who barred
their retreat to Fort Lille. Never was there more desperate
fighting. Nowhere could ground have been selected more unsuited for
a battlefield.

It was by the roads alone running upon the dykes above the general
level of the country the troops could advance or retreat, and it
was upon these that the heads of the heavy columns struggled for
victory.

There was little firing. The men in front had no time to reload,
those behind could not fire because their friends were before them.
It was a fierce hand-to-hand struggle, such as might have taken
place on the same ground in the middle ages, before gunpowder was
in use. Bayonets and clubbed muskets, these were the weapons on
both sides, while dismounted troopers--for horses were worse than
useless here, mixed up with the infantry--fought with swords. On
the roads, on the sides of the slopes, waist deep in the water of
the ditches, men fought hand-to-hand. Schlangenberg commanded at
the spot where the Dutchmen obstinately and stubbornly resisted the
fury of the French onslaught, and even the chosen grenadiers of
France failed to break down that desperate defence.

All day the battle raged. Rupert having no fixed duty rode
backwards and forwards along the roads, now watching how went the
defence against the French attack, now how the Dutch in vain tried
to press back the Spaniards and open a way of retreat. Late in the
afternoon he saw a party of the staff officers pressing towards the
rear on foot.

"We are going to try to get to the head of the column," one said to
Rupert. "We must force back the Spaniards, or we are all lost."

"I will join you," Rupert said, leaping from his horse.

"Hugh, give me my pistols and take your own; leave the horses, and
come with me."

It took upwards of an hour to make their way along the dyke,
sometimes pushing forward between the soldiers, sometimes wading in
the ditch, but at last they reached the spot where, over ground
high heaped with dead, the battle raged as fiercely as ever. With a
shout of encouragement to the men the party of officers threw
themselves in front and joined in the fray. Desperate as the
fighting had been before, it increased in intensity now. The Dutch,
cheered by the leading of their officers, pressed forward with
renewed energy. The Spaniards fought desperately, nor indeed could
they have retreated, from the crowd of their comrades behind. The
struggle was desperate; bayonet clashed against bayonet, heavy
muskets descended with a showering thud on head and shoulders,
swords flashed, men locked together struggled for life. Those who
fell were trampled to death, and often those in front were so
jammed by the pressure, that their arms were useless, and they
could do nought but grasp at each other's throats, until a blow or
a bayonet thrust from behind robbed one or other of his adversary.
Slowly, very slowly, the Dutch were forcing their way forward, but
it was by the destruction of the head of their enemy's column, and
not by any movement of retreat on their part.

After a few minutes of desperate struggles, in which twice Hugh
saved his life by shooting a man on the point of running him
through with a bayonet, Rupert found himself on the edge of the
road. He drew out of the fight for an instant, and then making his
way back until he came to a Dutch colonel, he pointed out to him
that the sole hope was for a strong body of men to descend into the
ditch, to push forward there, and to open fire on the flank of the
enemy's column, so as to shake its solidity.

The officer saw the advice was good; and a column, four abreast,
entered the ditches on each side, and pressed forward. The water
was some inches above their waists, but they shifted their pouches
to be above its level, and soon passing the spot where the struggle
raged as fiercely as ever on the dyke above, they opened fire on
the flanks of the Spaniards. These in turn fired down, and the
carnage on both sides was great. Fresh Dutchmen, however, pressed
forward to take the place of those that fell; and the solidity of
the Spaniards' column being shaken, the head of the Dutch body
began to press them back.

The impetus once given was never checked. Slowly, very slowly the
Dutch pushed forward, until at last the Spaniards were driven off
the road, and the line of retreat was open to the Dutch army. Then
the rear guard began to fall back before the French; and fighting
every step of the way, the last of the Dutch army reached Fort
Lille long after night had fallen.

Their loss in this desperate hand-to-hand fighting had been 4000
killed and wounded, besides 600 prisoners and six guns. The French
and Spaniards lost 3000 killed and wounded.

It was well for Rupert that Hugh kept so close to him, for nearly
the last shot fired by the enemy struck him, and he fell beneath
the water, when his career would have been ended had not Hugh
seized him and lifted him ashore. So much had the gallantry of the
little cornet attracted the attention and admiration of the Dutch,
that plenty of volunteers were glad to assist Hugh to carry him to
Fort Lille. There during the night a surgeon examined his wound,
and pronounced that the ball had broken two ribs, and had then
glanced out behind, and that if all went well, in a month he would
be about again.

The numbers of wounded were far beyond the resources of Fort Lille
to accommodate, and all were upon the following day put into boats,
and distributed through the various Dutch riverine towns, in order
that they might be well tended and cared for. This was a far better
plan than their accumulation in large military hospitals, where,
even with the greatest care, the air is always impure, and the
deaths far more numerous than when the men are scattered, and can
have good nursing and fresh air.

Rupert, with several other officers, was sent to Dort, at that time
one of the great commercial cities of Holland. Rupert, although
tightly bandaged, and forbidden to make any movement, was able to
take an interest in all that was going on.

"There is quite a crowd on the quay, Hugh."

"Yes, sir; I expect most of these Dutch officers have friends and
acquaintances here. Besides, as yet the people here cannot tell who
have fallen, and must be anxious indeed for news."

The crowd increased greatly by the time the boat touched the quay;
and as the officers stepped or were carried ashore, each was
surrounded by a group of anxious inquirers.

Hugh, standing by his master's stretcher, felt quite alone in the
crowd--as, seeing his British uniform, and the shake of his head at
the first question asked, none tried to question him--and looked
round vaguely at the crowd, until some soldiers should come to lift
the stretcher.

Suddenly he gave a cry of surprise, and to Rupert's astonishment
left his side, and sprang through the crowd. With some difficulty
he made his way to a young lady, who was standing with an elderly
gentleman on some steps a short distance back from the crowd. She
looked surprised at the approach of this British soldier, whose
eyes were eagerly fixed on her; but not till Hugh stepped in front
of her and spoke did she remember him.

"Mistress Von Duyk," he said, "my master is here wounded; and as he
has not a friend in the place, and I saw you, I made bold to speak
to you."

"Oh! I am sorry," the girl said, holding out her hand to Hugh.

"Papa, this is one of the gentlemen who rescued me, as I told you,
when Sir Richard Fulke tried to carry me off."

The gentleman, who had looked on in profound astonishment, seized
Hugh's hand.

"I am indeed glad to have an opportunity of thanking you.

"Hasten home, Maria, and prepare a room. I will go and have this
good friend brought to our house."



Chapter 11: A Death Trap.

Never did a patient receive more unremitting care than that which
was lavished upon Rupert Holliday in the stately old house at Dort.
The old housekeeper, in the stiffest of dresses and starched caps,
and with the rosiest although most wrinkled of faces, waited upon
him; while Maria von Duyk herself was in and out of his room,
brought him flowers, read to him, and told him the news; and her
father frequently came in to see that he lacked nothing. As for
Hugh, he grumbled, and said that there was nothing for him to do
for his master; but he nevertheless got through the days pleasantly
enough, having struck up a flirtation with Maria's plump and pretty
waiting maid, who essayed to improve his Dutch, of which he had by
this time picked up a slight smattering. Then, too, he made himself
useful, and became a great favourite in the servants' hall, went
out marketing, told them stories of the war in broken Dutch, and
made himself generally at home. Greatly astonished was he at the
stories that he heard as to the land around him; how not
infrequently great subsidences, extending over very many square
miles, took place; and where towns and villages stood when the sun
went down, there spread in the morning a sea very many fathoms
deep. Hugh could hardly believe these tales, which he repeated to
Rupert, who in turn questioned Maria von Duyk, who answered him
that the stories were strictly true, and that many such great and
sudden catastrophes had happened.

"I can't understand it," Rupert said. "Of course one could imagine
a sea or river breaking through a dyke and covering low lands, but
that the whole country should sink, and there be deep water over
the spot, appears unaccountable."

"The learned believe," Maria said, "that deep down below the
surface of the land lies a sort of soil like a quicksand, and that
when the river deepens its bed so that its waters do enter this
soil it melts away, leaving a great void, into which the land above
does sink, and is altogether swallowed up."

"It is a marvellously uncomfortable feeling," Rupert said, "to
think that one may any night be awoke with a sudden crash, only to
be swallowed up."

"Such things do not happen often," Maria said; "and the districts
that suffer are after all but small in comparison to Holland. So I
read that in Italy the people do build their towns on the slopes of
Vesuvius, although history says that now and again the mountain
bubbles out in irruption, and the lava destroys many villages, and
even towns. In other countries there are earthquakes, but the
people forget all about them until the shock comes, and the houses
begin to topple over their heads."

"You are right, no doubt," Rupert said. "But to a stranger the
feeling, at first, of living over a great quicksand, is not
altogether pleasant.

"Tomorrow the doctor says I may leave my room. My own idea is that
I need never have been kept there at all."

"If there had been any great occasion for you to have moved about,
no doubt you might have done so," Maria said; "but you might have
thrown back your cure, and instead of your bones knitting well and
soundly, as the leech says they are in a fair way to do, you might
have made but a poor recovery. Dear me, what impatient creatures
boys are!"

"No, indeed I am not impatient," Rupert said. "You have all made me
so comfortable and happy, that I should indeed be ungrateful were I
to be impatient. I only want to be about again that I may spare you
some of the trouble which you bestow upon me."

"Yes, that is all very well and very pretty," Maria said, laughing;
"but I know that you are at heart longing to be off to join your
regiment, and take part in all their marching and fighting. Do you
know, an officer who came here with you after that terrible fight
near Antwerp, told me that you covered yourself with glory there?"

"I covered myself with mud," Rupert laughed. "Next day, when I had
dried a little, I felt as if I had been dipped in dough and then
baked. I am sure I looked like a pie in human shape when you first
saw me, did I not?"

"It would have been difficult to tell the colour of your uniform,
certainly," Maria smiled. "Fortunately, neither cloth nor tailors
are scarce in our good town of Dort, and you will find a fresh suit
in readiness for you to attire yourself in tomorrow."

"Oh, that is good of you," Rupert said, delighted; for he had been
thinking ruefully of the spectacle he should present the next day.

As to Hugh, he had been fitted out in bourgeois clothes since he
came, and had said no word as to uniform.

In another fortnight Rupert was thoroughly restored to health. His
wound had healed, his bones had perfectly set, and he was as fit
for work as ever. Even his host could not but allow that there was
no cause for his further detention. During this time Rupert had
talked much with the Burgomaster, who spoke French fluently, and
had told him frequently and earnestly of the grievous harm that was
done to the prospects of the war by the mischievous interference
with the general's plans by the Dutch deputies, who, knowing
nothing whatever of war, yet took upon themselves continually to
thwart the plans of the greatest general of the age. Van Duyk
listened with great attention, and promised that when he went
shortly to Haarlem he would use all his influence to abbreviate the
powers which the deputies so unwisely used.

Two or three days before the date fixed for Rupert's departure, he
was walking in the town with Mynheer Von Duyk and his daughter,
when he observed a person gazing intently at him from the entrance
to a small bylane. He started, and exclaimed:

"There is that rascal, Sir Richard Fulke!"

"Where?" exclaimed both his companions.

"He has gone now," Rupert said. "But he stood there in shadow, at
the entrance to that lane."

So saying, he hurried forward, but no sign of his enemy was
visible.

"Are you sure it was he?" Mynheer Von Duyk asked. "What can he be
doing in Holland?"

Rupert then in a few words recounted their meeting in Liege, the
subsequent attempt to murder him at the mill, and the disappearance
of Sir Richard Fulke, and his exchange into some other regiment.

Von Duyk was much disturbed.

"This touches me nearly," he said. "It is from your interference on
behalf of my daughter that you have incurred this fellow's enmity,
and it is clear that he will shrink at nothing to gratify it.
Moreover, I cannot consider my daughter to be in safety, as long as
so reckless a man as this is in the town. I will go at once to the
magistrates, and urge that my daughter goes in danger of him, and
so obtain an order to search for and arrest him. In a few hours we
will have him by the heels, and then, after a while in prison, we
will send him packing across the frontier, with a warning that if
he comes back he will not escape so lightly."

The search, however, was not successful; and Mynheer Von Duyk was
beginning to think that Rupert must have been mistaken, when the
officer of the magistracy discovered that a man answering to the
description given had been staying for three days at a small tavern
by the water, but that he had hastily taken a boat and sailed,
within a half hour of being seen by Rupert.

"It is a low resort where he was staying," Von Duyk said, "A tavern
to which all the bad characters of the town--for even Dort has some
bad characters--do resort. If he came here to do you harm, or with
any fresh design upon my daughter, he would find instruments there.
I had intended to have left Maria behind, when I travelled to the
Hague next week; but I will now take her with me, with two or three
stout fellows as an escort.

"As for you, friend Rupert, you have but two more evenings here in
Dort, but I pray you move not out after dusk, for these long wars
have made many men homeless and desperate, and it is not good for
one who has an enemy to trust himself abroad at night, alone."

The next morning Hugh went down to the quay with one of the clerks
of Von Duyk, and struck a bargain with some boatmen to carry Rupert
and himself to Bergen op Zoom. It was a craft of some four or five
tons burden, with a good sized cabin.

The next day Hugh went down early to the boat with the bans
containing Rupert's luggage and his own, and a servant of Von Duyk
accompanied him, bearing some provisions and a few choice bottles
of wine for their use on the way.

"Do you know, Master Rupert," he said on his return, "I don't much
like the look of that boatman chap. When we got down to the quay
this morning, he was talking with two men whose faces I did not
see, for they walked suddenly and hastily away, but who seemed to
me to flavour much of the two men we disturbed that evening when
they were carrying off Miss Von Duyk. I could not swear to them,
for I did not get a fair sight of them before, but they were about
the same size and height, and it was clear that they did not wish
to be recognized."

Rupert made no reply for a while, but thought the matter over.

"Well, Hugh, I wish it had not been so, for I hate quarrels and
brawls, but I do not think that we need be uneasy, especially now
that we are warned. The boat carries but three men, and as we shall
have our pistols and swords, I imagine that we are a match for
these Dutch boatmen. See that the pistols are loaded, and say
naught to our kind friends here as to your suspicions. I would not
make them uncomfortable."

Before taking leave of their friends, Rupert was drawn aside by
Mynheer Von Duyk, who begged to know if he had any necessity for
money, and assured him that then or at any other time he should be
glad to honour any drafts that Rupert might draw upon him.

"I am not a man of many words," he said, "but in saving my daughter
from that ruffian you have laid me under an obligation which I
should be glad to discharge with half my fortune. I am, as you
know, a rich man--I may say a very rich man. Had you been a few
years older, I would gladly have given my daughter to you did your
inclination and hers jump that way. As it is, I can only regard you
as a younger brother of hers, and view you as a sort of son by
adoption. Young men in cavalry regiments require horses and have
many expenses, and you will really pain me much if you refuse to
allow me to act as your banker. I have, believing that you would
not take it wrongly, paid in to your account with the paymaster of
your regiment the sum of two hundred pounds, and have told him that
the same sum would be paid to your account annually so long as the
regiment might be in Flanders, and that he may further cash any
order drawn by you upon my house.

"There now, my daughter is waiting, and the hour for sailing is at
hand. Do not let us say any more about it."

So saying he hurried Rupert out into the hall where Maria Von Duyk
was waiting, before he could have raised any objection, had he
wished to do so. But in truth Rupert felt that he could not refuse
the kind offer without giving pain, and he knew moreover that this
allowance, which to the rich merchant was a mere trifle, would add
greatly to his comfort, and enable him to enter more freely than he
had yet done in the plans and pursuits of his brother officers, who
were for the most part young men of fortune. With a word or two of
sincere thanks therefore, he accompanied the worthy Dutchman, and
twelve minutes later the party were on their way down to the quay.

"A surly looking knave is your captain," Mynheer Von Duyk said as
they stood by the boat while the men prepared for a start. "I see
he belongs not to this town, but to Bergen. However, the voyage is
not a long one, and as you know but little of our language it will
matter but slightly whether his temper be good or bad.

"There, I see he is ready. Goodbye, Master Holliday. Goodbye, my
good Hugh. All fortune attend you, and God keep you both from
harm."

Maria added her affectionate adieux to those of her father, and in
a few minutes the boat was moving down the river under full sail.

"Hugh, you may as well overhaul the cabin at once," Rupert said;
"we have paid for its sole use during the voyage. Cast your eye
carefully round, and see if there is anything that strikes you as
being suspicious. I see no arms on deck; see that none are hidden
below."

Hugh returned on deck in a few minutes.

"It seems all right, Master Rupert. There are some provisions in a
locker, and in another are a cutlass, a couple of old pistols, and
a keg half full of powder; I should say by its weight there are ten
pounds in it. The arms are rusted, and have been there some time, I
should say. There is also a bag of heavy shot, and there is a long
duck gun fastened to the beam; but all these things are natural
enough in a boat like this. No doubt they fire a charge or two of
shot into a passing flight of wildfowl when they get the chance."

"That's all right then, Hugh, especially as they evidently could
not go down into the cabin without our seeing them; and as with our
pistols and swords we could make short work of them even if they
did mean mischief, we need not trouble ourselves any further in the
matter. It's going to be a wet night, I am afraid; not that it
makes much difference, but one would rather have stayed on deck as
long as one could keep awake, for the smells of the cabin of a
Dutch fishing boat are not of the sweetest."

Rupert was not mistaken. As the darkness came on a thick heavy mist
began to fall steadily; and he and Hugh descended through the half
door from the cockpit into the cabin.

"Now let us have supper, Hugh; there are plenty of good things; and
I have a famous appetite."

The thoughtfulness of Mynheer von Duyk's housekeeper had placed two
candles in the basket together with two drinking glasses; and the
former were soon lighted, and by the aid of a drop or two of their
own grease, fixed upright on the rough table. Then a splendid pie
was produced; the neck was knocked off a bottle; the lads drew out
their clasp knives, and set to work.

"Here is a bottle of schnapps," Hugh said, examining the basket
when they had finished a hearty meal.

"You may as well give that to the boatman, Hugh. I expect the good
frau had him in her thoughts when she put it in, for she would
hardly give us credit for such bad taste as to drink that stuff
when we could get good wine."

Hugh handed out the bottle to the boatman, who took it with a surly
grunt of satisfaction. It was raining steadily, and the wind had
almost dropped. An hour later the lads agreed that they were ready
for sleep. Hitherto the door had been slightly open to admit air.

"Shall I shut the door, Master Rupert?"

"Well, perhaps you had better, Hugh. We have got into the way of
sleeping heavily at Dort, without any night guard or disturbance. I
doubt not that these Dutchmen mean us no harm. Still it is well to
be on the safe side."

"There is no fastening to it, Master Rupert."

"Well, take your sword out of its scabbard, Hugh, and put the
scabbard against the door, so that it will fall with a crash if the
door is opened. Then, if we have a pistol close to hand, we can
sleep in security."

Hugh obeyed his instructions; and in a few minutes, wrapped in
their military cloaks, they were fast asleep on the lockers, which
served as benches and beds. How long they slept they knew not; but
both started up into a sitting attitude, with their hands on their
pistols.

"Who's there?" both shouted; but there was no answer.

The darkness was intense; and it was clear that whoever had tried
to open the door had shut it again.

"Have you your tinderbox handy, Hugh? If so, let us have a light.

"Those fellows are moving about overhead, Hugh; but we had better
stay where we are. The scabbard may have shaken down, for the wind
has got up, and the boat is feeling it; and if they mean foul play
they could knock us on the head as we go out from under the low
door.

"Hallo! What's that?"

The "that" was the falling of some heavy substance against the
door.

"Those are the coils of cable, Hugh; they have blocked us in. Go on
striking that light; we can't push the door open now."

Some more weight was thrown against the door, and then all was
still.

Presently Hugh succeeded in striking a light--no easy task in the
days of flint and steel--and the candles being lighted, they sat
down to consider the position.

"We are prisoners, Master Rupert; no doubt about that."

"None at all, Hugh. The question is what do they mean to do with
us. We've got food enough here to last us with ease for a week; and
with our pistols and swords, to say nothing of the duck gun, we
could hold this cabin against any number."

Presently they heard the men on deck hailing another boat.

"I suppose that is that rascal Fulke," Rupert said. "I hope that I
am not quarrelsome by disposition, Hugh; but the next time I meet
that fellow I will, if time and place be suitable, come to a
reckoning with him."

There was a movement above, and then a bump came against the side.
The other boat had come up.

"Now we shall see what they are up to."

Nothing, however, came of it. There was some low talking above, and
some coarse laughter.

"Master Rupert," Hugh exclaimed suddenly, "I am standing in water!"

Rupert had half lain down again, but he leapt up now.

"They have scuttled the boat, Hugh, and mean to drown us like rats;
the cowards."

"What's to be done now, Master Rupert?" Hugh asked.

"Let us try the door, Hugh."

A single effort showed that they were powerless here. The door was
strong, it was fastened outside, and it was heavily weighted with
coils of rope and other substances.

"The water rises fast. It's over our ankles," Hugh said quietly.

The bumping of a boat was again heard outside, then a trampling of
feet, and all was still again.

"They have taken to the boats."

Not all, however, for through the door there came a shout,
"Goodbye, Master Holliday," and a loud, jeering laugh.

"Au revoir, Sir Richard Fulke," Rupert shouted back; "and when we
meet next, beware!"

"Ha, ha! it won't be in this world;" and they heard their enemy get
into the boat.

"Now, Hugh, we must set to work; we have got the boat to
ourselves."

"But what are we to do, Master Rupert?"

Rupert was silent for a minute.

"There is but one way, Hugh. We must blow up the boat."

"Blow up the boat!" Hugh repeated, in astonishment.

"Yes, Hugh. At least, blow the deck up. Give me that keg of
powder."

Hugh opened the locker. It was, fortunately, still above water.

"Now, Hugh, put it in that high locker there, just under the deck.
Knock its head out.

"Now tie a pistol to those hooks just above, so that its muzzle
points at the powder.

"Now for a piece of cord."

"But it will blow us into smash, Master Rupert."

"I hope not, Hugh; but we must take our chance. I would rather that
than be drowned gradually. But look, the water is up nearly to our
waists now; and the boat must be pretty nearly sinking. I will take
hold of the cord. Then both of us throw ourselves down to the
floor, and I will pull the string. Three feet of water over us
ought to save us; but mind, the instant you feel the shock, jump up
and rush for the opening, for it is pretty sure to sink her.

"Now!"

The lads dived under water, and the instant afterwards there was a
tremendous explosion. The deck of the boat was blown into the air
in a hundred fragments, and at the same moment the boat sank under
the water.

A few seconds later Rupert and Hugh were swimming side by side. For
a while neither spoke--they were shaken and half stunned by the
shock.

"It is a thick fog, Hugh. All the better; for if those scoundrels
come back, as is likely enough, there is no chance of their finding
us, for I can hardly see you, though I am touching you. Now we must
paddle about, and try to get hold of a spar or a bit of plank."



Chapter 12: The Sad Side Of War.

Before firing the keg of powder, Rupert and Hugh had rid themselves
of their jackboots, coats, and vests, and they therefore swam
easily and confidently.

"Listen, Hugh! Here is the boat coming back again," Rupert
exclaimed. "This thick mist is fortunate, for they can't see twenty
yards. We can always dive when they come near. Mind you go down
without making a splash. We are all right at present; the boat is
going to our right, let us swim quietly in the other direction."

Presently they heard a voice in English say, "It is no use our
troubling ourselves. It's a mere waste of time. The young rascals
are dead. Drowned or blown up, what matters it? They will never
trouble you again."

"You don't know the villains as well as I do. They have as many
lives as cats. I could have sworn that they were burned at that
mill, for I watched till it fell, and not a soul came out; and to
this moment I don't know how they escaped, unless they flew away in
the smoke. Then I thought at any rate the chief rogue was done for,
when Muller wrote to tell me he was going to finish him for me the
next day. Then they both got through that day's fighting by the
Scheldt, though I hear they were in the front of it. And now, when
I leave them fastened up like puppies in a basket, in a sinking
boat, comes this explosion, and all is uncertain again."

"Not a bit of it," the other voice said; "they simply preferred a
sudden death to a slow one. The matter is simple enough."

"I wish I could think so," the other said. "But I tell you, after
this night's work I shall never feel my life's safe for one hour,
till I hear certain news of their death.

"Stop rowing," he said, in Dutch. "There is a bit of a plank; we
must be just on the place where she blew up! Listen, does anyone
hear anything?"

There was a long silence, and then he said, "Row about for half an
hour. It's as dark as a wolf's mouth, but we may come upon them."

In the meantime, the two lads were swimming steadily and quietly
away.

Presently Hugh said, "I must get rid of my sword, Master Rupert, it
seems pulling me down. I don't like to lose it, for it was my
grandfather's."

"You had better lose the grandfather's sword, Hugh, than the
grandson's life. Loose your belt, Hugh, and let it go. Mine is no
weight in comparison. I'll stick to it as long as I can, for it may
be useful; but if needs be, it must follow yours."

"Which way do you think the shore lies?" Hugh asked, after having,
with a sigh of regret, loosed his sword belt and let it go.

"I have no idea, Hugh. It's no use swimming now, for with nothing
to fix our eyes on, we may be going round in a circle. All we need
do is to keep ourselves afloat till the mist clears up, or daylight
comes."

For an hour they drifted quietly.

Hugh exclaimed, "I hear a voice."

"So do I, Hugh. It may be on shore, it may be in a boat. Let us
make for it in either case."

In five minutes they saw close ahead of them a large boat, which,
with its sail hanging idly by the mast, was drifting downstream.
Two boatmen were sitting by the tiller, smoking their pipes.

"Heave us a rope," Hugh said in Dutch. "We have had an upset, and
shall be glad to be out of this."

The boatmen gave a cry of surprise, but at once leapt to their
feet, and would have thrown a rope, but by this time the lads were
alongside, and leaning over they helped them into the boat. Then
they looked with astonishment at their suddenly arrived guests.

"We are English soldiers," Hugh said, "on our way to Bergen op
Zoom, when by some carelessness a keg of powder blew up, our boat
went to the bottom, and we have been swimming for it for the last
couple of hours."

"Are you the English officer and soldier who left Dort this
afternoon?" one of the men said. "We saw you come down to the quay
with Mynheer Von Duyk and his daughter. Our boat lay next to the
boat you went by."

"That is so," Hugh said. "Are you going to Bergen? We have enough
dollars left to pay our passage."

"You would be welcome in any case," the boatman said. "Hans
Petersen is not a man to bargain with shipwrecked men. But go
below. There is a fire there. I will lend you some dry clothes, and
a glass of hot schnapps will warm your blood again."

Arrived at Bergen, one of the boatmen, at Rupert's request, went up
into the town, and returned with a merchant of ready-made clothes,
followed by his servant bearing a selection of garments such as
Rupert had said that they would require, and in another half hour,
after a handsome present to the boatmen, Rupert and Hugh landed,
dressed in the costume of a Dutch gentleman and burgher
respectively. Their first visit was to an armourer's shop, where
Hugh was provided with a sword, in point of temper and make fully
equal to that with which he had so reluctantly parted. Then, hiring
horses, they journeyed by easy stages to Huy, a town on the Meuse,
six leagues above Liege, which Marlborough, again forbidden by the
Dutch deputies to give battle when he had every prospect of a great
victory, was besieging.

The capture of the fortress, and subsequently of Limberg, was all
the campaign of 1703 effected; whereas, had the English commander
been allowed to have his way, the great results which were not
obtained until after three years' further fighting might at once
have been gained.

Rupert was greeted with enthusiasm by his comrades on his return.
After the battle before Antwerp the duke had caused inquiries to be
made as to the fate of his young friend, and had written to Dort,
and had received an answer from Rupert announcing his convalescence
and speedy return to duty.

Upon hearing his tale of the fresh attempt upon his life by Sir
Richard Fulke, the commander-in-chief wrote to the States General,
as the government of Holland was called, and requested that orders
should be issued for the arrest of Sir Richard Fulke, wherever he
might be found, upon a charge of attempt at murder. Nothing was,
however, heard of him, and it was supposed that he had either
returned to England or passed into Germany.

After the capture of Limberg the army went into winter quarters,
and the 5th dragoons were allotted their old quarters near Liege.

During the campaign of 1703, although slight advantages had been
gained by the allies in Flanders, it was otherwise in Germany and
Italy, where the greatest efforts of the French had been made.
Beyond the Rhine the French and Bavarians had carried all before
them, and Villars, who commanded their armies here, had almost
effected a junction across the Alps with Vendome, who commanded the
French troops in Italy. Had success crowned their efforts, the
armies could have been passed at will to either one side or the
other of the Alps, and could have thrown themselves with
overwhelming force either upon Austria, or upon Prince Eugene, who
commanded the imperial troops in Italy. The mountaineers of the
Tyrol, however, flew to arms, and held their passes with such
extreme bravery that neither the Bavarians on the north, nor the
French on the south, could make any progress, and the design had
for a time been abandoned.

Austria was paralyzed by the formidable insurrection of Hungary,
and it appeared certain that Vienna would in the ensuing campaign
fall into the hands of the French.

During the Winter Marlborough laboured earnestly to prepare for the
important campaign which must take place in the spring, and after
the usual amount of difficulties, arising from private and
political enemies at home and in Holland, he succeeded in carrying
out his plan, and in arranging that the Dutch should hold their
frontier line alone, and that he should carry the rest of his army
into Germany.

The position there seemed well-nigh desperate. Marshal Tallard,
with 45,000 men, was posted on the Upper Rhine, in readiness to
advance through the Black Forest and join the advanced force and
the Bavarians--who also numbered 45,000 men, and the united army
was to advance upon Vienna, which, so weakened was the empire, was
defended only by an army of 20,000 men, placed on the frontier.

On the 8th of May, Marlborough set out with his army, crossed the
Meuse at Maestricht, and arrived at Bonn on the 28th of that month.
Marching up the Rhine, he crossed it at Coblentz on the 26th, and
pushed on to Mundlesheim, where he met Prince Eugene, who now
commanded the allied force there. Next only to Marlborough himself,
Eugene was the greatest general of the age--skillful, dashing yet
prudent, brave to a fault--for a general can be too brave--frank,
sincere, and incapable of petty jealousy.

Between him and Marlborough, from the date of their first meeting,
the most cordial friendship, and the most loyal cooperation
prevailed. Each was always anxious to give the other credit, and
thought more of each other's glory than their own. So rapidly had
Marlborough marched, that only his cavalry had come up; and Prince
Eugene, reviewing them, remarked that they were the finest body of
men he had ever seen.

A few days later the Prince of Baden came down from the Austrian
army of the Danube to meet him. Eugene and Marlborough wished the
prince to take the command of the army of the Rhine, leaving the
army of the Danube to their joint command. The prince, however,
stood upon his rank; and it was finally arranged that Eugene should
command the army of the Rhine, and that Marlborough and the Prince
of Baden should command the army of the Danube on alternate
days--an arrangement so objectionable that it is surprising it did
not terminate in disaster.

Marlborough at once marched with his force, and making his way with
great difficulty through the long and narrow defile of Gieslingen,
effected a junction with the Prince of Baden's army; and found
himself on the 2nd of July at the head of an army of 96 battalions,
202 squadrons of horse, and 48 guns; confronting the French and
Bavarian army, consisting of 88 battalions, 160 squadrons, 90 guns,
and 40 mortars, in a strong position on the Danube.

The bulk of the army was on the right bank. On the left bank was
the height of Schellenberg, covering the passage of the river at
Donauwoerth, and held by 12,000 men, including 2500 horse. Along
the front of this hill was an old rampart, which the French were
engaged in strengthening when the allied army arrived. The latter
were not when they came up, according to the ordinary military
idea, in a condition to attack. Their camp had been broken up at
three in the morning, and it was two in the afternoon before they
arrived, after a long and fatiguing march, in front of the enemy's
position.

Thinking that it was probable that he would be forced to fight
immediately upon arriving, Marlborough had selected 530 picked men
from each battalion, amounting to 6000 men, together with thirty
squadrons of horse, as an advance guard; and close behind them
followed three regiments of Imperial grenadiers, under Prince
Louis. The total strength of this force was 10,500 men.

The French and Bavarian generals did not expect an attack, knowing
the distance that the troops had marched, and therefore quietly
continued their work of strengthening the entrenchments. The Duke
of Marlborough, seeing the work upon which they were engaged,
determined to attack at once, for, as he said to the Prince of
Baden, who wished to allow the men a night's rest, "Every hour we
delay will cost us a thousand men." Orders were therefore given for
an instant assault upon the hill of Schellenberg. Not only was the
position very strong in itself, but in front of it was a wood, so
thick that no attack could be made through it. It was necessary,
therefore, to attack by the flanks of the position, and one of
these flanks was covered by the fire of the fortress of
Donauwoerth.

"This is as bad as a siege," Rupert said, discontentedly, to his
friend Dillon, for their squadron formed part of the advance. "We
are always out of it."

"You are in a great hurry to get that bright cuirass of yours
dented, Rupert; but I agree with you, the cavalry are always out of
it. There go the infantry."

In splendid order the 6000 picked men moved forward against the
face of the enemy's position, extending from the wood to the
covered way of the fortress; but when they arrived within range of
grape, they were swept by so fearful a storm of shot that the line
wavered. General Goor and his bravest officers were struck down,
and the line fell into confusion.

The Bavarians seeing this, leapt from their entrenchment; and
pursued their broken assailants with the bayonet; but when
disordered by their rush, a battalion of English guards, which had
kept its ground, poured so tremendous a fire into their flank that
they fell back to their entrenchments.

"This looks serious," Dillon said, as the allies fell back. "The
enemy are two to our one, and they have got all the advantage of
position."

"There is the duke," Rupert exclaimed, "reforming them. There they
go again, and he is leading them himself. What a terrible fire!
Look how the officers of the staff are dropping! Oh, if the duke
should himself be hit! See, the infantry are slackening their
advance in spite of the shouts of their officers. They are
wavering! Oh, how dreadful; here they come back again."

"The duke is going to try again, Rupert. See how he is waving his
hand and exhorting the men to a fresh attack.

"That's right, lads, that's right.

"They have formed again; there they go."

Again the troops wavered and broke under the terrible rain of
bullets; and this time the Bavarians in great force leapt from
their entrenchments, and pounced down upon the broken line.

"Prepare to charge!" shouted General Lumley, who commanded the
cavalry. "Forward, trot, gallop, charge!"

With a cheer the cavalry, chafed at their long inaction while their
comrades were suffering so terribly, dashed forward, and threw
themselves furiously upon the Bavarians, driving them headlong back
to their lines, and then falling back under a tremendous fire,
which rolled over men and horses in numbers.

At this moment a cheer broke from the dispirited infantry, as the heads
of the three regiments of Imperial grenadiers, led by the Prince of
Baden, arrived on the ground. These, without halting, moved forward
towards the extreme left of the enemy's position--which had been left
to some extent unguarded, many of the troops having been called off to
repulse Marlborough's attack--pushed back two battalions of French
infantry, and entered the works.

General D'Arco, the French commanding officer, withdrew some of his
men from the centre to hold the Prince of Baden in check; and
Marlborough profited by the confusion so caused to endeavour, for
the fourth time, to carry the hill. His force was however, now
fearfully weakened; and General Lumley, after conferring with him
for a moment, rode back to the cavalry.

"The 5th dragoons will dismount and join the infantry," he said.

In a moment every soldier was on his feet; and five minutes later
the regiment, marching side by side with the infantry, advanced up
the hill.

This time the assault was successful. The enemy, confused by the
fact that the allies had already forced their line on the left,
wavered. Their fire was wild and ineffectual; and with a tremendous
cheer the allies scaled the height and burst into the works. Close
behind them General Lumley led his cavalry, who made their way
through the gaps in the entrenchments, and fell upon the fugitives
with dreadful slaughter. The French and Bavarians fled to a bridge
across the Danube below Donauwoerth, which, choked by their weight,
gave way, and great numbers were drowned. The rest retreated
through Donauwoerth, their rear being gallantly covered by General
D'Arco, with a small body of troops who held together. Sixteen guns
and thirteen standards fell into the victors' hands.

The loss of the allies, considering the force that they brought
into the field--for the main army had not arrived when the victory
was decided--was extraordinary, for out of a total of 10,500 men,
including cavalry, they lost 1500 killed, and 4000 wounded, or more
than half their force; and the greater part of these were English,
for upon them fell the whole brunt of the fighting.

The enemy suffered comparatively little in the battle, but great
numbers were killed in the pursuit or drowned in the Danube. Still
greater numbers of Bavarians scattered to their homes; and out of
12000 men, only 3000 joined the army on the other side of the
Danube.

The Elector of Bavaria fell back with his army to Augsburg, under
the cannon of which fortress he encamped, in a position too strong
to be attacked. His strong places all fell into the hands of the
allies; and every effort was made to induce him to break off from
his alliance with France. The elector, however, relying upon the
aid of Marshal Tallard, who was advancing with 45,000 men to his
assistance, refused to listen to any terms; and the allied powers
ordered Marlborough to harry his country, and so force him into
submission by the misery of his subjects.

Such an order was most repugnant to the duke, who was one of the
most humane of men, and who by the uniform kind treatment of his
prisoners, not only did much to mitigate the horrors of the war in
which he was engaged, but set an example which has since his time
been followed by all civilized armies. He had, however, no resource
but to obey orders; and the cavalry of the allies were sent to
carry fire through Bavaria. No less than 300 towns and villages
were destroyed in this barbarous warfare.

This duty was abhorrent to Rupert, who waited on the duke, and
begged him as the greatest of favours to attach him for a short
time to the staff, in order that he might not be obliged to
accompany his regiment. The duke--who had already offered Rupert an
appointment on his staff, an offer he had gratefully declined, as
he preferred to do duty with his regiment--at once acceded to his
request, and he was thus spared the horror of seeing the agony of
the unhappy peasantry and townspeople, at the destruction of their
houses. Rupert, in his rides with messages across the country, saw
enough to make him heartsick at the distress into which the people
of the country were plunged.

One day when riding, followed by Hugh, he came upon a sad group. By
a hut which had recently been burned, after some resistance, as was
shown by the dead body of a Hessian trooper, a peasant knelt by the
body of his wife. A dead child of some five years old lay by, and a
baby kicked and cried by the side of its mother. The peasant looked
up with an air of bewildered grief, and on seeing the British
uniform sprang to his feet, and with a fierce but despairing
gesture placed himself as if to defend his children to the last.

Rupert drew his rein.

"I would not hurt you, my poor fellow," he said in Dutch.

The man did not understand, but the gentleness of the tone showed
him that no harm was meant, and he again flung himself down by his
wife.

"I do not think that she is dead, Hugh," Rupert said. "Hold my
horse, I will soon see."

So saying, he dismounted and knelt by the woman. There was a wound
on her forehead, and her face was covered with blood. Rupert ran to
a stream that trickled by the side of the road, dipped his
handkerchief in water, and returning, wiped the blood from the face
and wound.

"It is a pistol bullet, I imagine," he said to him; "but I do not
think the ball has entered her head; it has, I think, glanced off.
Fasten the horses up to that rail, Hugh, get some water in your
hands, and dash it in her face."

The peasant paid no attention to what was being done, but sat
absorbed in grief; mechanically patting the child beside him.

"That's it, Hugh. Now another. I do believe she is only stunned.
Give me that flask of spirits out of my holster."

Hugh again dashed water in the woman's face, and Rupert distinctly
saw a quiver in her eyelid as he did so. Then forcing open her
teeth, he poured a little spirit into her mouth, and was in a
minute rewarded by a gasping sigh.

"She lives," he exclaimed, shaking the peasant by the shoulder.

The man looked round stupidly, but Rupert pointed to his wife, and
again poured some spirits between her lips. This time she made a
slight movement and opened her eyes. The peasant gave a wild scream
of delight, and poured forth a volume of words, of which Rupert
understood nothing; but the peasant kneeling beside him, bent his
forehead till it touched the ground, and then kissed the lappet of
his coat--an action expressive of the intensity of his gratitude.

Rupert continued his efforts until the woman was able to sit up,
and look round with a frightened and bewildered air. When her eye
caught her husband, she burst into tears; and as Hugh raised the
baby and placed it in her arms she clasped it tightly, and rocked
to and fro, sobbing convulsively.

"Look, Hugh, see if you can find something like a spade in that
little garden. Let us bury this poor little child."

Hugh soon found a spade, and dug a little grave in the corner of a
garden under the shade of an old tree.

Then the lads returned to the spot where the husband and wife,
quiet now, were sitting hand in hand crying together. Rupert made a
sign to him to lift the body of his little girl, and then led the
way to the little grave. The father laid her in, and then fell on
his knees by it with his wife, and prayed in a loud voice, broken
with sobs. Rupert and Hugh stood by uncovered, until the peasant
had finished. Then the little grave was filled in; and Rupert,
pointing to the ruined house, placed five gold pieces in the
woman's hand. Then they mounted their horses again and rode on, the
man and his wife both kneeling by the roadside praying for
blessings on their heads.

A week later, Rupert again had occasion to pass through the
village, and dismounted and walked to the little grave. A rough
cross had been placed at one end, and some flowers lay strewn upon
it. Rupert picked a few of the roses which were blooming neglected
near, and laid them on the grave, and then rode on, sighing at the
horrors which war inflicts on an innocent population.

This time their route lay through a thickly wooded mountain, to a
town beyond, where one of the cavalry regiments had its
headquarters. Rupert was the bearer of orders for it to return to
headquarters, as a general movement of the army was to take place.
The road was a mere track, hilly and wild, and the lads rode with
pistols cocked, in case of any sudden attack by deserters or
stragglers from the Bavarian army. The journey was, however,
performed without adventure; and having delivered their orders,
they at once started on their homeward way.



Chapter 13: Blenheim.

Although the sun had not set when Rupert and Hugh rode into the
forest on their return journey, they had not been long among the
trees when the light began to fade. The foliage met overhead, and
although above the sky seemed still bright, the change was
distinctly felt in the gloom of the forest. The ride had been a
long one, and Rupert feared to press his horse, consequently they
wound but slowly up the hill, and by the time they reached its
crest, it was night.

"This is unpleasant, Hugh, for I can scarcely see my horse's head;
and as there are several tracks crossing this, we are likely enough
to go wrong."

"I think, Master Rupert, we had better dismount and lead our
horses. We shall break our necks if they tread on a stone on this
rocky path."

For half an hour they walked on in silence, then Hugh said, "I
think we are going wrong, Master Rupert, for we are not descending
now; and we ought to have been at the foot of the hill, if we had
been right, by this time."

"I am afraid you are right, Hugh. In that case we had better make
up our minds to halt where we are till morning. It is no use
wandering on, and knocking up the horses. It seems rather lighter
just ahead, as if the trees opened a little; we may find a better
place to halt."

In another minute they stood in a small clearing. The stars were
shining brightly; and after the dense darkness of the forest, they
were able to see clearly in the open. It was a clearing of some
sixty feet diameter, and in the middle stood, by the path, a hut.

"Stay where you are, Hugh, with the horses. I will go quietly
forward. If the place is occupied, we will go back. We can't expect
hospitality in Bavaria."

The hut proved to be empty. The door hung loosely on its hinges,
and clearly the place was deserted.

Rupert called Hugh up, and fastening the horses outside, the lads
entered.

"Shall we light a fire, Master Rupert?"

"No, Hugh; at any rate unless we see that the shutters and door
will close tightly. There may be scores of deserters in the wood,
and we had better run no risk. The night is not cold. We will just
sit down against the wall till morning. Before we do, though, we
will look round, outside the hut. If it has been lately inhabited,
there may be a few vegetables or something the horses can munch."

Nothing, however, was found.

"We will take it by turns to watch, Hugh. I will take first watch;
when I am sleepy I will wake you."

Without a word Hugh unstrapped his cloak, felt for a level piece of
ground in the hut, and with his cloak for his pillow, was soon
asleep.

Rupert sat down on the log of a tree, that lay outside the hut, and
leaned against its wall. For two hours he sat, and thought over the
adventures and the prospects of the war, and then gradually a
drowsiness crept over him, and he fell fast asleep.

His waking was not pleasant. Indeed, he was hardly aware that he
was awake; for he first came to the consciousness that he was lying
on the ground, with a number of wild-looking figures around him,
some of whom bore torches, while Hugh, held by two of them, was
close by.

It was Hugh's voice, indeed, that first recalled him to a
consciousness of what had happened.

"Master Rupert, Master Rupert!" he exclaimed. "Tell me that you are
not killed!"

"No, I am not killed, Hugh," Rupert said, raising himself on his
elbow. "But it would have served me right if I had been, for going
to sleep on my watch."

One of their captors now stooped down, seized Rupert by the
shoulder, and gave him a rough kick to intimate that he was to get
up.

"I am sorry, Hugh, that I have sacrificed your life as well as my
own by my folly, for I have no doubt these fellows mean to kill us.
They are charcoal burners, as rough a lot as there exists in
Europe, and now naturally half mad at the flames they see all over
the land."

In the meantime, a dialogue was going on between their captors as
to the best and most suitable method of putting them to death.

"They are fond of burning houses," one said at last, "let them try
how they like it. Let us make a blaze here, and toss them in, and
let them roast in their own shells."

The proposal was received with a shout of approval. Some of them
scattered in the forest, and soon returned laden with dry branches
and small logs, which were piled up in a great heap against the
hut, which was itself constructed of rough-hewn logs. The heap of
dry wood was then lighted, and ere long a great sheet of flame
arose, the logs and the shingles of the roof caught, and ere many
minutes the hut was a pile of fire.

"They're going to throw us in there, Hugh."

"God's will be done, Master Rupert; but I should like to have died
sword in hand."

"And I too, Hugh. I wish I could snatch at a weapon and die
fighting; but this man holds my hands like a vise, and those heavy
axes of theirs would make short work of us. Well, the fire will not
take an instant, Hugh; it will be a momentary death to be thrown
into that mass of flame. Say a prayer to God, Hugh, for those at
home, for it is all up with us now."

The blaze of fire had attracted other bodies of charcoal burners
and others, and their captors only delayed to obtain as large a
number of spectators as possible for their act of vengeance.

The fire was now at its height, and even the savage charcoal
burners felt a grudging admiration for the calm demeanour, and
fearless, if pale faces, with which these lads faced death. There
was, however, no change of purpose. The horrors that had been
perpetrated on the plains had extinguished the last spark of pity
from their breasts, and the deed that they were about to do seemed
to them one of just and praiseworthy retribution.

The man who acted as leader gave the word, and the powerful
woodsmen lifted the two lads as if they had been bundles of straw,
and advanced towards the hut.

"Goodbye, Master Rupert!"

"Goodbye, Hugh. May God receive"--when a terrible scream rent the
air, and a wild shout.

Then from the back of the crowd, two figures who had just arrived
at the spot burst their way. With piercing cries a woman with a
baby in her arms flung herself down on the ground on her knees,
between Rupert and the flames, and clasping the legs of the men who
held him, arrested their movement; while the man, with a huge club
swinging round his head, planted himself also in the way, shouting
at the top of his voice.

A mighty uproar arose; and then the leader obtained silence enough
to hear the cause of the interruption.

Then the man began, and told the tale of the restoration to life
and consciousness of his wife, and of the burial of his child, with
an eloquence and pathos that moved many of his rough audience to
tears; and when he had finished, his wife, who had been sobbing on
her knees while he spoke, rose to her feet, and told how that
morning, as she went down from the wood towards her little one's
grave, she saw Rupert ride up and dismount, and how when she
reached the place she found fresh-gathered flowers laid on her
darling's grave.

A dead hush fell upon the whole assembly. Without a word the leader
of the charcoal burners strode away into the forest, and returned
in another minute with the two horses. Rupert and Hugh wrung the
hands of the peasants to whom they owed their lives, and leapt into
the saddle.

The leader took a torch and strode on ahead along the path, to show
them their way; and the crowd, who had hitherto stood still and
silent, broke into a shout of farewell and blessing.

It was some time before either Rupert or Hugh spoke. The emotion had been
too great for them. That terrible, half hour facing death--the sudden
revulsion at their wonderful deliverance--completely prostrated them,
and they felt exhausted and weak, as if after some great exertion.  On
the previous occasions in which they had seen great danger together--at
the mill of Dettingheim, the fight on the Dykes, the scuttling of the
boat--they had been actively engaged. Their energies were fully
employed, and they had had no time to think. Now they had faced
death in all his terrors, but without the power of action; and both
felt they would far rather go through the three first risks again,
than endure five minutes of that terrible watching the fire burn up.

Hugh was the first to speak when, nearly an hour after starting,
they emerged from the wood into the plain at the foot of the hill.

"My mother used to say, Master Rupert, that curses, like chickens,
came home to roost, and surely we have proved it's the case with
blessings. Who would have thought that that little act of kindness
was to save our lives?"

"No, indeed, Hugh. Let it be a lesson to us to do good always when
we can."

At this moment they reached the main road from which that over the
hill branched off. Their guide paused, pointed in the direction
they were to go, and with a "Godspeed you," in his own language,
extinguished his torch on the road, turned, and strode back by the
path that they had come by.

The lads patted their horses, and glad to be again on level ground,
the animals went on at a sharp canter along the road. Two hours
later they reached camp.

The Duke of Marlborough had already laid siege to the fortress of
Ingoldstadt, the siege operations being conducted by Prince Louis
of Baden with a portion of his troops, while the main army covered
the siege. But early in August the Elector of Bavaria left Augsburg
with his army, and, altogether abandoning his dominions, marched to
join Marshal Tallard, who was now coming up.

Marlborough at once broke up his camp, leaving Prince Louis to
continue the siege of Ingoldstadt, and collecting as many of his
troops as he could, marched with all speed in the same direction;
as Prince Eugene, who, with his army, had marched in a parallel
line with the French, now ran the risk of being crushed by their
united force.

By dint of great exertion, Marlborough joined the prince with his
cavalry on the tenth of August, and the infantry came up next day.

The two great armies now faced each other, their numerical force
being not unequal, the French being about 60,000 strong; and the
allies 66,000. In other respects, however, the advantage lay wholly
with the enemy. They had ninety guns, while the allies had but
fifty-one; while out of the 60,000 troops under Marshal Tallard
45,000 were the best troops France could produce. The allied army
was a motley assembly, composed of nearly equal numbers of English,
Prussians, Danes, Wurtemburghers, Dutch, Hanoverians, and Hessians.
But although not more numerous than the troops of other
nationalities, it was felt by all that the brunt of the battle
would fall upon the British.

These had, throughout the three campaigns, shown fighting qualities
of so high a character, that the whole army had come to look upon
them as their mainstay in battle. The heavy loss which had taken
place among these, the flower of his troops, at the assault of
Schlessingen greatly decreased the fighting power of Marlborough's
army.

The weakness caused by the miscellaneous character of the army was
so much felt, that Marlborough was urged to draw off, and not to
tempt fortune under such unfavourable circumstances.

Marshal Villeroi was, however, within a few days march with a large
force, and Marlborough felt that if he effected a junction with
Tallard, Austria was lost. It was therefore necessary, at all
hazards, to fight at once.

The French position was an exceedingly strong one. Their right
rested on the Danube; and the village of Blenheim, close to its
bank, was held by twenty-six battalions and twelve squadrons, all
native French troops.

Their left was equally protected from attack by a range of hills,
impregnable for guns or cavalry. In the centre of their line,
between their flanks, was the village of Oberglau, in and around
which lay thirty battalions of infantry, among whom was the fine
Irish regiments.

From Blenheim to Oberglau, and thence on to Lutzingen, at the foot
of the hills, the French line occupied somewhat rising ground, in
front of them was the rivulet of the Nebel running through low
swampy ground, very difficult for the passage of troops.

Prince Maximilian commanded the French left, where the Bavarians
were posted, Marshal Marsin the line on to Oberglau and the village
itself, Marshal Tallard the main body thence to the Danube.

The French marshals, strong in the belief of the prowess of their
troops, equal in number, greatly superior in artillery, and
possessing an extremely strong position, scarcely paid sufficient
attention to what would happen in the event of a defeat. The
infantry being posted very strongly in the three villages, which
were very carefully entrenched and barricaded, insufficient
attention was paid to the long line of communications between them,
which was principally held by the numerous cavalry. This was their
weak point, for it was clear that if the allies should get across
the rivulets and swamps and break through the cavalry line, the
infantry would be separated and unable to reunite, and the strong
force in Blenheim would run a risk of being surrounded without a
possibility of retreat, as the Danube was unfordable.

Upon the side of the allies the troops were divided into two
distinct armies. That under Prince Eugene, consisting of eighteen
battalions of infantry and seventy-four squadrons of horse, was to
attack the French left. The main army under the duke, consisting of
forty-eight battalions and eighty-six squadrons, was to attack the
centre and right.

The British contingent of fourteen battalions and fourteen
squadrons formed part of Marlborough's command.

It was arranged that Prince Eugene should commence the attack, and
that when he had crossed the rivulets in front of the French left,
Marlborough should advance and attempt to carry out the plan he had
laid out, namely, to cut the French line between Oberglau and
Blenheim.

Prince Eugene's advance took the French by surprise. So confident
were the marshals in the strength of their position and the belief
of the superiority of their troops over the polyglot army of
Marlborough, that they had made up their minds that he was about to
retreat.

The morning was misty, and Eugene's advance reached the French
pickets before they were perceived.

Their difficulties now began. The rivulets were deep, the ground
treacherous; fascines had to be laid down, and the rivulets filled
up, before guns could get over; and even when across they could but
feebly answer the French artillery, which from the higher ground
commanded their whole line; thus the allies lost 2000 men before
Eugene got the army he commanded across the marshes. Then at half
past twelve he sent word to Marlborough that he was ready.

While the cannon roar had been incessant on their right, the main
army remained motionless, and divine service was performed at the
head of every regiment and squadron.

The moment the aide-de-camp arrived with the news that Prince
Eugene was in readiness, the artillery of Marlborough's army opened
fire, and the infantry, followed closely by their cavalry, advanced
to the attack.

The British division, under Lord Cutts, as the most trustworthy,
had assigned to them a direct attack upon the strong position of
Blenheim, and they advanced unwaveringly under a storm of fire,
crossed the swamps and the Nebel, and advanced towards Blenheim.

General Rowe led the front line, consisting of five English
battalions and four Hessians, and he was supported by Lord Cutts
with eleven battalions and fifteen squadrons.

Advancing through a heavy artillery fire, General Rowe's troops had
arrived within thirty yards of the palisade before the French
infantry opened fire. Then a tremendous volley was poured into the
allies, and a great number of men and officers fell. Still they
moved forward, and Rowe, marching in line with his men, struck the
palisade with his sword before he gave the order to fire. Then
desperately the British strove to knock down the palisade and
attack their enemy with the bayonet, but the structure was too
strong, and the gallant force melted away under the withering fire
kept up by the great force of French infantry which occupied the
village.

Half Rowe's force fell, he himself was badly wounded, most of his
officers down, when some squadrons of French horse fell upon their
flank, threw them into confusion, and took the colours of the
regiment.

The Hessians, who so far had been in reserve, fell upon the French,
and retook the colours.

Fresh squadrons of French cavalry came up, and General Lumley sent
some squadrons of cavalry across to Rowe's assistance. Then, with a
cheer, the dragoons rode at the French, who were twice their
strength. In an instant every one was engaged in a fierce conflict,
cutting, slashing, and using their points.

The French gave way under the onslaught, but fresh squadrons came
up from their side, a heavy musketry fire broke out from the
enclosure round Blenheim, and leaving many of their number behind
them, the British horse and foot fell back to the stream.

Marlborough, seeing that Blenheim could not be taken, now resolved
upon making his great effort to break the French line midway
between Oberglau and Blenheim.

On the stream at this part stood the village of Unterglau, having a
stone bridge across the Nebel. This was but weakly held by the
French, who, upon seeing the allies advancing at full speed, fired
the village to check the advance, and then fell back.

General Churchill's division rushed through the burning village,
crossed the bridge, and began to open out on both sides. Then the
duke gave the order for the whole cavalry to advance. Headed by the
English dragoons, they came down in good order through the
concentrated fire of the enemy's batteries to the edge of the
stream; but the difficulties here were immense. The stream was
divided into several branches, with swampy meadows between them,
and only by throwing down fascines could a footing be obtained for
the horses.

"I don't call this fighting, Master Rupert," Hugh said, as they
floundered and struggled through the deep marshes, while the
enemy's shell burst in and around the ranks; "it's more like
swimming. Here come the French cavalry, and we've not even formed
up."

Had the French charge been pressed home, the dragoons must have
been crushed; but Churchill's infantry on their right opened such a
heavy fire that the French cavalry at that end of the line paused.
On their left, however, near Blenheim, the dragoons, suffering
terribly from the artillery and musketry fire from that village,
were driven back by the French cavalry to the very edge of the
swamp.

Marlborough, however, anxiously watching the struggle, continued to
send fresh bodies of horse across to their assistance, until the
Dutch and Hanoverian squadrons were all across, and the allied
cavalry formed in two long lines.

While this had been going on, a serious fight had been raging in
front of Oberglau; and here, as at Blenheim, the allies suffered
disaster. Here the Hanoverians, led by the Prince of Holstein, had
attacked. The powerful body of French and Irish infantry did not,
however, wait for the assault, but, 9000 strong, charged down the
slope upon the 5000 Hanoverians before they had formed up after
crossing the river, repulsed them with great loss, and took the
prince himself prisoner.

This was a serious disaster, as, by the rout of the Hanoverians the
connexion between Marlborough's army and that of Prince Eugene was
broken.

Marlborough's eye, however, was everywhere; and galloping to the
spot, he put himself at the head of some squadrons of British
cavalry, and, closely followed by three battalions of fresh
infantry, charged the Irish battalions, who, in the impetuosity of
their pursuit, had fallen into disorder. The cavalry charge
completed their confusion, and the infantry opening fire in flank
on the lately victorious column, drove it back with immense
slaughter. Thus the battle was restored at this point.

All this time the fight had raged between Eugene's array and the
Bavarians and French opposed to them. At first the prince had been
successful, and the Danes and Prussians under his orders captured a
battery of six guns. His cavalry, however, while advancing in some
disorder, were charged by the French, driven back across the Nebel,
and the guns were retaken. Twice the prince himself rallied his
cavalry, and brought them back to the charge, but each time the
Bavarian horse, led by the elector, drove them back, defeated and
broken, across the river. The Prussian and Danish infantry stood
their ground nobly, although the enemy charged them over and over
again; but, cheered by the presence of Prince Eugene, who took his
place amongst them, they beat off all attacks.

The Duke of Marlborough, after restoring the battle at Oberglau,
rode back to his centre, and prepared for the grand attack by his
cavalry. Marshal Tallard, in preparation for the attack he saw
impending, brought up six battalions of infantry, and placed them
in the centre of the ridge. Marlborough brought up three battalions
of Hessians to front them, placed the rest of his infantry to cover
the left of the cavalry from the attack of the strong battalions in
Blenheim, and then, drawing his sword, placed himself in front of
his troops, and ordered the trumpets to sound the advance.

This grand and decisive charge is thus described by Allison in his
"Life of Marlborough:"

"Indescribably grand was the spectacle that ensued. In compact
order, and in the finest array, the allied cavalry, mustering 8000
sabres, moved up the gentle slope in two lines--at first slowly, as
on a field day, but gradually more quickly as they drew near, and
the fire of the artillery became more violent. The French horse,
10,000 strong, stood their ground at first firmly. The choicest and
bravest of their chivalry were there; the banderolls of almost all
the nobles of France floated over the squadrons.

"So hot was the fire of musketry and cannon when the assailants
drew near, that their advance was checked. They retired sixty
paces, and the battle was kept up for a few minutes only by a fire
of artillery. Gradually, however, the fire of the artillery
slackened; and Marlborough, taking advantage of the pause, led his
cavalry again to the charge. With irresistible vehemence the line
dashed forward at full speed, and soon the crest of the ridge was
passed. The French horsemen discharged their carbines at a
considerable distance with little effect, and immediately wheeled
about and fled.

"The battle was gained. The allied horse rapidly inundated the open
space between the two villages. The six battalions in the middle
were surrounded, cut to pieces, or taken. They made a noble
resistance; and the men were found lying on their backs in their
ranks as they had stood in the field."

Thus at one blow the whole French line of defence was broken up.
Blenheim was entirely cut off; and the rear of their left beyond
Oberglau threatened.

General Marsin's cavalry, seeing the defeat of their main body,
fell back to avoid being taken in rear; and Prince Eugene, seeing
the Bavarian infantry left unsupported, called up all his reserves,
and advanced at the head of the Danes and Prussians against them.
The Bavarian infantry fought stubbornly, but the battle was lost,
their line of retreat threatened by the allied horse, who were now
masters of the field, and, setting fire to the villages of Oberglau
and Lutzingen, they fell back sullenly.

In the meantime, Marshal Tallard was striving bravely to avert the
defeat. He brought up his last reserves, rallied his cavalry, and
drew them up in line stretching towards Blenheim in hopes of
drawing off his infantry from that village. Marlborough brought up
his whole cavalry force, and again charging them, burst through
their centre, and the French cavalry, divided into two parts, fled
in wild disorder--the one portion towards the Danube, the other
towards Hochstadt. Marlborough at the head of fifty squadrons
pursued the first body. Hanpesch with thirty followed the second.
Marlborough drove the broken mass before him to the Danube, where
great numbers were drowned in attempting to cross; the rest were
made prisoners. Marshal Tallard himself, with a small body of
cavalry who still kept their ranks, threw himself into the village
of Sonderheim, and was there captured by the victorious squadrons.
Hanpesch pursued the flying army as far as Hochstadt, captured
three battalions of infantry on the way, and halted not until the
French were a mere herd of fugitives, without order, riding for
their lives.

There now remained only the garrison of Blenheim to dispose of, and
the infantry were brought up to attack them. So strong were the
defences, however, so desperate the resistance offered by the brave
body of Frenchmen, who were now alone against an army, that the
infantry attack was beaten back. The guns were then brought up, and
opened fire, and the French, whose case was now hopeless,
surrendered.

The battle of Blenheim was over. In this great battle Marlborough's
army lost 5000 men, Eugene's 6000. In all 11,000 men. The French
and Bavarians lost in killed and wounded 12,000, together with 1200
officers and 13,000 privates made prisoners, and 47 cannon. Their
total loss, including desertions in their retreat through the Black
Forest, was estimated by their own historians at 40,000 men--a
defeat as complete and disastrous as that of Waterloo.



Chapter 14: The Riot at Dort.

The Duke of Marlborough lost no time in utilizing the advantages
gained by the victory of Blenheim. He at once raised the siege of
Ingoldstadt, which, when all the country was in his power, must
sooner or later surrender, and detached a portion of the force
which had been there engaged to besiege Ulm, an important fortress
on the Danube. Then with the bulk of his army he marched to the
Rhine, crossed at Philipsburg on the 6th of September, and advanced
towards Landau.

Marshal Villeroi had constructed an entrenched camp to cover the
town; but on the approach of the victor of Blenheim he fell back,
leaving Landau to its fate. Marlborough followed him, and made
every effort to bring the French to a battle; but Villeroi fell
back behind the Lauter, and then behind the Motter, abandoning
without a blow one of the strongest countries in Europe.

On the 11th of September Ulm surrendered, with 250 pieces of
cannon; and upon the following day, Landau was invested. The Prince
of Baden with 20,000 men conducted the siege, and Marlborough and
Eugene with 30,000 covered the operations. Marlborough, however,
determined on ending the campaign, if possible, by driving the
French beyond the Moselle, and leaving Prince Eugene with 18,000
men, marched with 12,000 men on the 14th of October.

After a tremendous march through a wild and desolate country, he
arrived with his exhausted troops at Treves on the 29th, one day
before the arrival of 10,000 French, who were advancing to occupy
it. The garrison of 600 men in the citadel evacuated it at his
approach. He immediately collected and set to work 6000 peasants to
restore the fortifications. Leaving a garrison, he marched against
the strong place of Traesbach. Here he was joined by twelve Dutch
battalions from the Meuse; and having invested the place, he left
the Prince of Hesse to conduct the siege--which speedily ended in
the surrender of the place--and marched back with all haste to
rejoin Prince Eugene.

Leaving Eugene to cover the siege of Landau, Marlborough now
hurried away to Hanover and Berlin, to stimulate the governments of
Hanover and Prussia to renewed exertion; and by his address and
conciliatory manner succeeded in making arrangements for 8000 fresh
Prussian troops to be sent to the imperial armies in Italy, as the
Duke of Savoy had been reduced to the last extremity there by the
French.

The Electress of Bavaria, who had been regent of that country since
her husband left to join the French, had now no resource but
submission, and she accordingly agreed to disband her remaining
troops, and to make peace.

The Hungarian insurrection was suppressed by Austria, now able to
devote all its attention to that point: and Landau surrendered
towards the end of November, when its garrison was reduced from
7000 to 3500, who became prisoners of war.

All these decisive results arose from the victory of Blenheim. Had
the British Government during the winter acceded to Marlborough's
request, and voted men and money, he would have been able to march
to Paris in the next campaign, and could have brought the war to an
end; but the mistaken parsimony then, as often since, crippled the
British general, allowed the French to recover from their disaster,
prolonged the war for years, and cost the country very many times
the money and the men that Marlborough had asked for to bring the
war to a decisive termination.

But while the English and Dutch governments refused to vote more
money or men, and the German governments, freed from their pressing
danger, became supine and lukewarm, the French, upon the contrary,
set to in an admirable manner to retrieve the disasters they had
suffered, and employed the winter in well-conceived efforts to take
the field with a new army, to the full as strong as that which they
had lost; and the fruits of Blenheim were, with the exception of
the acquisition of a few fortresses, entirely thrown away.

At the battle of Blenheim, Rupert Holliday escaped untouched, but
Hugh was struck with a fragment of shell, and severely wounded. He
was sent down the Rhine by water to the great military hospital
which had been established at Bonn; and Rupert, who was greatly
grieved at being separated from his faithful follower, had the
satisfaction of hearing ere long that he was doing well.

Rupert had assigned him as orderly a strong, active young fellow,
named Joe Sedley, who was delighted at his appointment, for the
"little cornet" was, since his defeat of the German champion, the
pride of the regiment. Joe was a Londoner, one of those fellows who
can turn their hand to anything, always full of fun, getting
sometimes into scrapes, but a general favourite with his comrades.

The campaign over, Rupert, who was now a lieutenant, asked and
obtained leave to go home for the winter; he had long since been
reconciled with his mother; and it was two years and a half since
he had left home. Hugh and Joe Sedley had also obtained leave, upon
Rupert's application on their behalf.

On his way down Rupert resolved to pay a visit for a few days to
his kind friends at Dort. They had written begging him to come and
see them; and a postscript which Maria had put in her last letter
to him, to the effect that she had reason to believe that her old
persecutor was in the neighbourhood, and that her father had taken
renewed precautions for her safety, added to his desire to visit
Dort.

"That fellow's obstinacy is really admirable in its way," Rupert
said, on reading this news. "He has made up his mind that there is
a fortune to be obtained by carrying off Maria van Duyk, and he
sticks to it with the same pertinacity which other men display in
the pursuit of commerce or of lawful trade, or that a wild beast
shows in his tireless pursuit of his prey."

Had it not been for the postscript, Rupert would have deferred his
visit to Dort until after his return from England, but the news
caused him serious uneasiness. He knew but too well the
unscrupulous nature of this desperate man, whom he had heard of
since his last attempt upon his life as being a leader of one of
the bands of freebooters who, formed of deserters and other
desperate men, frequented the Black Forest, the Vosges mountains,
the Ardennes, and other forests and hill districts. That he would
dare lead his band down into the plains of Holland, Rupert had no
fear; still he could have no difficulty in finding men of ruined
fortunes even there to join in any wild attempt.

Leaving the army when it went into winter quarters, Rupert
travelled by land to Bonn, and there picked up Hugh, who was now
completely restored to health, and then, taking boat, journeyed
down the Rhine. Then he took horse again, and rode to Dort.

Mynheer van Duyk and Maria were delighted to see him; and Hugh and
Sedley were hospitably received by the servants, with whom Hugh
had, on the occasion of his last visit, made himself a prime
favourite.

For the first day of their arrival Rupert had all the talking to
do, and his adventures to relate from the time he set sail from
Dort. He had of course written from time to time, but his letters,
although fairly full, did not contain a tithe of the detail which
his friends were anxious to learn. The next morning, after
breakfast, he asked his host if he was unwell, for he looked worn
and anxious.

"I am well in body, but disturbed in mind," he said. "Six months
ago I stood well with my fellow citizens, and few were more popular
in Dort than myself. Now, save among the better class, men look
askance at me. Subtle whispers have gone abroad that I am in
correspondence with France; that I am a traitor to Holland; that I
correspond with the Spanish at Antwerp. In vain have I tried to
force an open accusation, in order that I might disperse it. The
merchants, and others of my rank, scoff at these rumours, and have
in full council denounced their authors as slanderers; but the
lower class still hold to their belief. Men scowl as I walk along;
the boys shout 'Traitor!' after me; and I have received threatening
letters."

"But this is abominable," Rupert said, hotly. "Is there no way of
dealing with these slanderers?"

"No," the merchant said; "I see none, beyond living it down. Some
enemy is at work, steadily and powerfully."

"Have you any enemy you suspect?"

"None, save indeed that rascal countryman of yours. He is
desperate, and, as you know, relentless. My house has always been
guarded by six stout fellows since we returned from the Hague; and
any open attempt to carry off my daughter would be useless. It is
difficult to see what he proposes to himself by stirring up a party
against me; but he might have some scheme which we cannot fathom.
Our Dutchmen are slow but obstinate, and once they get an idea in
their head it is difficult to discharge."

"You do not fear any public tumult, surely?" Rupert said.

"I do not anticipate it, and yet I regard it as possible," Van Duyk
said. "The people in our town have been given to bursts of frenzy,
in which some of our best men have been slain."

"Why don't you go down to the Hague again till this madness has
passed by?"

"I cannot do that. My enemies would take advantage of it, and might
sack my house and warehouses."

"But there is the burgher guard; and all the respectable citizens
are with you."

"That is true enough," the merchant said; "but they are always slow
to take action, and I might be killed, and my place burnt before
they came on to the ground. I will send Maria with you down to the
Hague to her aunt's. If this be the work of the man we wot of, it
may be that he will then cease his efforts, and the bad feeling he
has raised will die away; but in truth, I shall never feel that
Maria is safe until I hear that his evil course has come to an
end."

"If I come across him, I will bring it to an end, and that
quickly," Rupert said, wrathfully. "At any rate, I think that the
burgomaster ought to take steps to protect the house."

"The council laugh at the idea of danger," Van Duyk said. "To them
the idea that I should be charged with dealing with the enemy is so
supremely ridiculous that they make light of it, and are inclined
to think that the state of things I describe is purely a matter of
my own imagination. If I were attacked they would come as quickly
as they could to my aid; but they may be all too late.

"There is one thing, Rupert. This enemy hates you, and desires your
death as much as he wishes to carry off my daughter, and through
her to become possessed of my money bags. If, then, this work is
his doing, assuredly he will bring it to a head while you are here,
so as to gratify both his hate and his greed at once."

"It is a pity that you cannot make some public statement, that
unless your daughter marries a man of whom you approve you will
give her no fortune whatever."

"I might do that," Van Duyk said; "but he knows that if he forced
her to marry him, I should still give her my money. In the second
place, she has a large fortune of her own, that came to her through
her mother. And lastly, I believe that it is not marriage he wishes
now, for he must be sure that Maria would die rather than accept
him, but to carry her off, and then place some enormous sum as a
ransom on condition of her being restored safe and unharmed to me.
He knows that I would give all that I possess to save her from his
hands."

"The only way out of it that I see," Rupert said, "is for me to
find him, and put an end to him."

"You will oblige me, Rupert, if, during the time you remain here,
you would wear this fine mail shirt under your waistcoat. You do
not wear your cuirass here; and your enemy might get a dagger
planted between your shoulders as you walk the streets. It is
light, and very strong. It was worn by a Spanish general who fell,
in the days of Alva, in an attack upon Dort. My great-grandfather
shot him through the head, and kept his mail shirt as a trophy."

"It is a useful thing against such a foe as this," Rupert said,
putting it on at once. "I could not wear it in battle, for it would
be an unfair advantage; but against an assassin all arms are fair."

During the day Rupert went out with his host, and the scowling
looks which were turned upon the latter convinced him that the
merchant had not exaggerated the extent to which the feeling of the
lower class had been excited against him. So convinced was he of
the danger of the position, that, to the immense surprise of Hugh
and Joe Sedley, he ordered them to lie down at night in their
clothes, with their swords and pistols ready by them. With eight
armed men in the house--for four of the porters engaged in the
merchant's warehouse slept on truckle beds placed in the
hall--Rupert thought that they ought to be able to repel any
assault which might be made.

It was on the fourth night after Rupert's coming to Dort, that he
was aroused by a touch on his shoulder. He leapt to his feet, and
his hand, as he did so, grasped his sword, which lay ready beside
him.

"What is it?" he exclaimed.

"There is mischief afloat," Van Duyk said. "There is a sound as of
a crowd in front of the house. I have heard the tramp of many
footsteps."

Rupert went to the window and looked out. The night was dark, and
the oil lamps had all been extinguished; but it seemed to him that
a confused mass filled the place in which the house stood.

"Let me get the men under arms," he said, "and then we can open the
window, and ask what they want."

In two minutes he returned.

"Now, sir, let us ask them at once. They are probably waiting for a
leader or order."

The merchant went to the window, and threw it open.

"Who is there?" he asked. "And what means this gathering at the
door of a peaceful citizen?"

As if his voice had been the signal for which they waited, a roar
went up from the immense crowd. A thunder of axes at the door and
shutters, and a great shout arose, "Death to the traitor! Death to
the Frenchmen!"

Shots were fired at the windows, and at the same moment the alarm
bell at the top of the house pealed loudly out, one of the serving
men having previously received order to sound the signal if needed.
In answer to the alarm bell, the watchman on the tower, whose duty
it was to call the citizens from their beds in case of fire, struck
the great bell, and its deep sounds rang out over the town. Two
minutes later the church bells joined in the clamour; and the bell
on the town hall with quick, sharp strokes called the burgher guard
to arms.

Van Duyk, knowing now that all that could be done had been
effected, ran to his daughter's room, bade her dress, and keep her
door locked until she heard his voice, come what may. Then he ran
downstairs to join the defenders below.

"The shutters are giving everywhere," Rupert cried. "We must hold
this broad staircase. How long will it be, think you, before the
burgher guard are here?"

"A quarter of an hour, maybe."

"We should beat them back for that time," Rupert said. "Light as
many lights as you can, and place them so as to throw the light in
their faces, and keep us in the shade."

In two or three minutes a smashing of timber and loud shouts of
triumph proclaimed that the mob were effecting an entrance.

"For the present I will stand in front, with one of these good
fellows with their axes on each side of me. The other two shall
stand behind us, a step or two higher. You, Hugh and Joe, take post
with our host in the gallery above with your pistols, and cover us
by shooting any man who presses us hard. Fire slowly, pick off your
men, and only leave your posts and join me here on the last
necessity."

They had just taken the posts assigned to them when the door fell
in with a crash, and the mob poured in, just as a rush took place
from the side passages by those who had made their way in through
the lower windows.

"A grim set of men," Rupert said to himself.

They were indeed a grim set. Many bore torches, which, when once
need for quiet and concealment was over, they had lighted.

Dort did a large export trade in hides and in meat to the towns
lying below them, and it was clear that it was from the butchers
and skinners that the mob was chiefly drawn. Huge figures, with
poleaxes and long knives, in leathern clothes spotted and stained
with blood, showed wild and fierce in the red light of the torches,
as they brandished their weapons, and prepared to assault the
little band who held the broad stairs.

Rupert advanced a step below the rest, and shouted:

"What means this? I am an officer of the Duke of Marlborough's
army, and I warn you against lifting a hand against my host and
good friend Mynheer van Duyk."

"It's a lie!" shouted one of the crowd. "We know you; you are a
Frenchman masquerading in English uniform.

"Down with him, my friends. Death to the traitors!"

There was a rush up the stairs, and in an instant the terrible
fight began.

On open ground, Rupert, with his activity and his straight sword,
would have made short work of one of the brawny giants who now
attacked him, for he could have leapt out of reach of the
tremendous blow, and have run his opponent through ere he could
again lift his ponderous axe. But there was no guarding such
swinging blows as these with a light sword; and even the advantage
of the height of the stairs was here of little use.

At first he felt that the combat was desperate. Soon, however, he
regained confidence in his sword. With it held ever straight in
front of him, the men mounting could not strike without laying open
their breasts to the blade. There must, he felt, be no guarding on
his part; he must be ever on the offensive.

All this was felt rather than thought in the whirl of action. One
after another the leaders of the assailants fell, pierced through
the throat while their ponderous axes were in the act of
descending. By his side the Dutchman's retainers fought sturdily,
while the crack of the pistols of Hugh, Joe Sedley, and the master
of the house were generally followed by a cry and a fall from the
assailants.

As the difficulty of their task became more apparent, the yells of
fury of the crowd increased. Many of them were half drunk, and
their wild gestures and shouts, the waving of their torches, and
the brandishing of knives and axes, made the scene a sort of
pandemonium.

Ten minutes had passed since the first attack, and still the stairs
were held. One of the defenders lay dead, with his head cloven to
his shoulders with a poleaxe, but another had taken his place.

Suddenly, from behind, the figure of a man bounded down the stairs
from the gallery, and with a cry of "Die, villain!" struck Rupert
with a dagger with all his strength, and then bounded back into the
gallery. Rupert fell headlong amid his assailants below.

Hugh and Joe Sedley, with a shout of rage and horror, dashed from
their places, sword in hand, and leaping headlong down the stairs,
cutting and hewing with their heavy swords, swept all opposition
back, and stood at the foot, over the body of Rupert.

The three Dutchmen and Van Duyk followed their example, and formed
a group round the foot of the stairs. Then there was a wild storm
of falling blows, the clash of sword and axe, furious shouts, loud
death cries, a very turmoil of strife; when there was a cry at the
door of "The watch!" and then a loud command:

"Cut the knaves down! Slay every man! Dort! Dort!"

There was a rush now to escape. Down the passages fled the late
assailants, pursued by the burgher guard, who, jealous of the
honour of their town, injured by this foul attack upon a leading
citizen, cut down all they came upon; while many who made their
escape through the windows by which they had entered, were cut down
or captured by the guard outside. The defenders of the stairs made
no attempt at pursuit.

The instant the burgher guard entered the hall, Hugh and Joe threw
down their bloodstained swords, and knelt beside Rupert.

"Ough!" sighed the latter, in a long breath.

"Thank God! He is not dead."

"Dead!" Rupert gasped, "not a bit of it; only almost trodden to
death. One of my stout friends has been standing on me all the
time, though I roared for mercy so that you might have heard me a
mile off, had it not been for the din."

"But are you not stabbed, Master Rupert?"

"Stabbed! No; who should have stabbed me? One of you somehow hit me
on the back, and down I went; but there is no stab."

"He had a dagger. I saw it flash," Hugh said, lifting Rupert to his
feet.

"Had he?" Rupert said; "and who was he?

"If it was an enemy, it is your coat of mail has saved me," he
continued, turning to Van Duyk. "I have never taken it off since.
But how did he get behind me I wonder?

"Run," he continued energetically, "and see if the lady is safe.
There must have been mischief behind."

Mynheer van Duyk, closely followed by the others, ran upstairs to
his daughter's room. The door was open. He rushed into the room. It
was empty. The window was open; and looking out, two ladders were
seen, side by side.

It was clear that while the fray had been raging, Maria von Duyk
had been carried off.



Chapter 15: The End of a Feud.

After the first cry of rage and grief at the discovery of the
abduction of Maria van Duyk, there was a moment's silence. Rupert
broke it, laying his hand on the shoulder of Van Duyk, who had
dropped despairingly into a chair.

"We will find her," he said, "wherever she be. Let us lose no
moments in sorrow. Call up the burgomaster, or whoever leads the
burghers, and let us consult."

In another minute or two four of the principal magistrates of Dort
had joined the party, and Van Duyk told them what had happened.

"I told her to lock the door, and not to open until she heard my
voice. Doubtless she was standing there listening to the strife
without, when the men burst in at the window, and seized her
before, in her surprise and terror, she had time to unlock the
door. Now what is to be done to recover her? They have, no doubt,
carried her off by boat, for they could not pass through the
landward gate of the town.

"Will you order two fast boats, to be manned by strong parties of
rowers, with well-armed men? One had better go up the river, one
down; for we know not in which direction they will take their
flight.

"What think you, Master Holliday?"

"I think that a boat had better go either way, without a moment's
loss of time," Rupert said. "But I doubt whether either will find
them. But send the boats without a moment's delay, with orders to
overhaul and search every craft they overtake."

The magistrates at once called in an officer of the guard, and gave
him the necessary instructions.

"And why do you not think that either up or down the river they
will overtake them?" Van Duyk asked Rupert, as the officer left the
room.

"Because they will know that a fleet horseman will pass them; and
that by morning the people at the towns on the banks will all be on
the lookout for them. So, having sent off the boats, I should now
send off horsemen up and down the river, with a letter from you,
sirs, to the authorities at all the towns, begging them to stop and
search every boat."

Again the necessary orders were given.

"It was right to take these steps," Rupert said, "for they may be
greater fools than I take them to be; but I think that they have
done one of two things. They have gone either up or down the river
to some place, probably not far away, where horses are in
readiness, or--or, they may be still in the town."

"Still in the town!"

"Yes," Rupert said; "they will know that we should pursue them up
and down the river; that we should scour the country round; but
they may think that we should not suspect that she is still here.
There must be lots of secure hiding places in an old town like
this; and they may well think it safer to keep her hidden here
until they force her into marriage, or wring a fabulous ransom from
you."

"We will search every house," the burgomaster said, "from cellar to
roof."

"It would be useless," Rupert said. "There must be secret hiding
places where she could be stowed away, bound and gagged perhaps,
and which you could never detect. I would lose no moment of time in
sending out horsemen to every village on either side of the river
above and below us, for a circle of twenty miles. If horsemen have
passed through, some villager or other is sure to have been awoke
by the clatter of the horses. If we get news, we must follow up the
traces wherever they go. If not, it will be strong proof that they
are still here. In any case, our pursuit all over the country will
lead them to think that we have no suspicion that she is here, and
we shall have far more chance of lighting upon a clue than if they
thought we suspected it. Get trusty men to work at once. Question
the prisoners your men have taken, with some sharp pain that will
wring the truth from them; but let all be done quietly; while on
the other hand, let the chase through the country be as active and
public as possible."

Threats, and the application of a string twisted round the thumb,
and tightened until the blood spurted from beneath the nails--rough
modes of questioning which had not yet died out--soon elicited from
the captives the place where the arch-conspirator had been staying
while he laid the train for the explosion; but, as was expected, a
search showed that the bird had flown, without leaving a trace
behind him.

Then, as there was nothing more to do until morning, and two score
of horsemen had been sent off in different directions, and the
officers most acquainted with the haunts of the bad characters were
set quietly at work to search for some clue that might help to find
the hiding place of Maria, the magistrates took their leave with
many expressions of regret and commiseration with the merchant, and
with confession of a consciousness of deep fault that they had not
taken to heart his warnings.

Long ere this the bodies of the score of rioters who had fallen on
the stairs, hall, and passages had been removed; and leaving the
afflicted merchant for awhile to his thoughts, Rupert retired to
his room, telling Hugh and Joe to follow him. He explained to them
exactly the steps which had been taken, and his opinion as to the
true state of things; and bade them think the matter over in every
light, and to come to him at daybreak, and let him know if any plan
for the conduct of the search had occurred to them.

The result of the night's thoughts and of the morning's
deliberations was conveyed to Mynheer van Duyk by Rupert.

"The first thing to be done is to offer a large reward, sir, for
any news which may lead to the discovery of your daughter. This may
or may not bring us in some information. The next thing is to have
an eye kept on every boat by the quay which may have a cabin or
half-deck capable of concealing a person wrapped up and bound.
Also, that a watch should be set upon any fishing boat anchored in
the river, or moored against the banks, for miles round. It is very
possible that she was carried on board, and that there she may be
kept, close to us, for days, or even weeks, until the hotness of
the search is over, and they can pass up or down the river without
being stopped and overhauled."

"We will have every boat at the quay searched at once; and boat
parties shall be sent off to examine every craft at anchor or
moored in the river."

"I think, sir, that it behoves us to act with care," Rupert said;
"for knowing the desperate nature of this villain, I think it
probable that he would wreak his hate upon your daughter, and do
some terrible crime when he found that he was discovered, for he
knows that his life is already forfeit. When we find out where she
is confined, to my mind the serious difficulty only commences, for
it is absolutely necessary that the arrest be so prompt and sudden,
that he shall not have time even to level a pistol at her."

Van Duyk acknowledged the justice of Rupert's reasoning.

"Hugh has suggested that it is likely that he has in his pay the
same boatmen whom he employed last year to murder us. As a first
step, let one of your clerks go down with an officer to the quay,
and inquire what boats left here yesterday or in the night. Hugh
will put on a rough fisherman's suit, and with his hat well down
over his brows, will stroll along by the water, to see if he
recognizes the face of any of the men."

At eight o'clock in the morning there was a meeting of the council
of the town, to determine upon the measures to be taken to discover
the authors of this disgraceful outbreak, and to take steps for the
recovery of the daughter of the leading citizen of the town. Criers
had already gone round to offer rewards for information; and a
proclamation was now issued by the magistrates, calling upon every
citizen to do his best to aid in the search. A committee was
appointed, to investigate all information which might be brought
in.

All Dort was in a state of excitement; parties of the burgher guard
still patrolled the town; numerous arrests were made in the
skinners' and butchers' quarters; groups of people assembled and
talked over the events of the night; and indignation at the riot
and assault upon Mynheer van Duyk, and pity for himself and his
daughter, were loudly expressed on all sides. The authorities
forbade any one from leaving the town by land or water without a
special permit signed by the magistrates.

The investigation as to the sailing of boats upon the previous day
produced a long list of craft of various sizes and kinds that had
left Dort. Besides those that had actually sailed, one or two had
left the quay, and had anchored out in the river, and made fast to
buoys there.

Hugh returned with the intelligence that he had recognized in a
boatman loitering on the quay one of the crew of the boat in which
Rupert and he had had so narrow an escape from drowning. The
captain of one of the merchant's own craft, of which there were
several at Dort, was sent for, and having received instructions as
to his course, accompanied Hugh to the quay, and having had the
fisherman pointed out to him, sauntered along, and after speaking
to several men, entered into conversation with him. A confidential
agent of the merchant was also ordered to keep at a distance, but
to watch every movement, however minute and insignificant, of the
suspected man.

The captain's report was soon given in. He had asked the man if he
wanted a berth in a ship just going to sail for England, one of the
crew having fallen sick at the last moment. He had refused, as he
belonged to a boat just about to sail for Bergen op Zoom, and he
had nodded towards a large decked boat riding in the river. Fearing
to excite suspicion, he had asked no further question, but had
turned to another man standing near, and asked him if he would make
the voyage.

It was considered certain by Rupert and Van Duyk that Maria was
either already confined in that boat, or that she would be taken
there when it was considered safe to start. A close scrutiny of the
boat with a telescope showed that two men were on board her. They
appeared to be smoking, and idling about.

In the meantime, at the Town Hall the committee were busy in
examining the reports brought in by the horsemen--whose tales
agreed, inasmuch as in none of the villages visited by them had any
stir or unusual movement been heard through the night--and in
hearing the evidence of innumerable people, who were all anxious to
give information which appeared to them to bear upon the outrage.

Van Duyk himself, like one distracted, wandered from place to
place.

Presently the spy set to watch the fisherman came in with his
report. He said that it was clear that the man was anxious and ill
at ease; that after an hour's waiting, a man came and spoke a word
to him, and passed on; that the fisherman then got into a small
boat and rowed out towards his vessel, but that he did not watch
him further, thinking it better to follow the man up who had spoken
to him. After walking about aimlessly for a short time, as if to
see whether he was watched, he had proceeded some distance along
the quay, and had then gone into a large house used as a tavern and
sailors' boardinghouse, but which did but a small trade, the
landlord having a bad name in the place.

A boat, with a strong armed party, was ordered to be in readiness
to follow at once if the fishing boat sailed; to keep at a
distance, but to follow her wherever she went, and at her next
landing place to pounce suddenly upon her and search her. Then the
whole attention of the searchers was directed to the tavern in
question.

It was agreed that Maria was not likely to be in confinement there,
as, it having been the house at which it had been ascertained that
Sir Richard Fulke had, previous to the last attempt on Rupert,
stayed in hiding, it would be suspected, and might be searched. The
strictest watch was now set upon the house, and everyone leaving it
was followed. Many came out and in, sailors from the quay or the
ships lying there; but in none of their movements was anything
suspicious found.

At five in the afternoon a boy of twelve years old, a son of the
landlord, came out. He looked suspiciously round, and then walked
along the quay. As he passed a house of considerable size, he again
looked round, pulled the bell twice, hastily, and then walked on.
He made a long detour, and returned to the tavern.

Not a moment was lost in following up the clue. The house in
question had been unoccupied for some time. The owner was, however,
known to Van Duyk, who at once called upon him. He said that he had
let it some weeks before, to a person who had stated that he was a
merchant of Amsterdam, and intended to open a branch house at Dort.
He had paid him six months' rent in advance, and had received the
keys of the house. He believed that some of his party had arrived,
as he had himself seen two men go in, but the house was certainly
not yet open for business.

Rupert, who had been all day at work following out other clues
given by persons who had come forward, returned just as Mynheer van
Duyk came back with the news.

"Thank God!" he said, "There is an end to uncertainty. Your
daughter is in that house, beyond all doubt. It is only a question
of action now. Let us call in the burgomaster and the chief
constable, and discuss how the rescue is to be effected. It is
probable that he has with him a dozen desperate fellows of his
Black Forest gang, and the task of so arranging it that we may
interpose between her and the arch-villain is a difficult one
indeed. While you send for these officials, I will go and
reconnoitre the house; it is quite dark."

The house differed little from its fellows. It was old, with
gables, and each floor projected beyond the one below it. A dim
light was visible in one of the upper rooms, while a far brighter
light shone through the folds of curtains which had been drawn
across a window lower down. Rupert drew his own conclusions.

Returning, he found the burgomaster and chief constable already
with Mynheer van Duyk. After much discussion it was agreed that
thirty picked men should be at Rupert's orders at ten that night,
an hour at which all Dort would already be sound asleep.

The chief constable then proceeded with Rupert to the houses
situated behind that which was intended to be attacked. It was
reconnoitred from that side, and found to be in darkness. The
owners of these houses, strictly charged to secrecy, were informed
of what was going on, and promised all aid in their power. A dozen
ladders of various lengths were now got together.

Then they went to the house adjoining, and made their way out on to
the roof. This, like many of the Dort houses, was furnished with a
terrace, placed between the gabled roofs, which rose sharply on
either side. Here the owner, if disposed, could sit and smoke, and
look on the river. A table and benches were placed here, and a few
tubs with shrubs and flowers.

A short, light ladder was brought up, and Rupert climbed up the
steep roof, drew up his ladder, and descended on the other side.
The steep roof of the next house now faced him, and he was soon
over this also, and stood on the little terrace of the house where
he believed Maria was a prisoner. It in all respects resembled that
he had left. The door leading to it appeared strong and firmly
fastened. He now retraced his steps.

Then some light ladders were brought up and placed in position on
the two roofs, and all was ready for a party to pass over onto the
terrace.

At ten o'clock, then, accompanied by Mynheer van Duyk and the two
troopers, he went to the spot where the force was assembled, and
told them off to the duties he had assigned to them.

Eight were to enter the next house with Hugh and Joe Sedley, were
to pass, by means of the ladders, over the roof on to the terrace.
They were to carry heavy axes and crowbars, and to beat down the
door and rush downstairs the instant the signal was given.

Sixteen were to raise eight ladders at the back of the house, and
place them close to the windows. Two were to take post at each,
ready to burst in the window and rush in at the signal.

The remaining six were to bring a long ladder to the front of the
house, and place it against the upper window, where the light was.
Two were to follow Rupert up this ladder, the other four to place
themselves at the front door, and cut down all who tried to escape.

Rupert's object in attacking at so many different points was so to
confuse the occupants of the house by the suddenness and noise of
the assault that they would be unable to rally and carry out any
plan they might have formed, before the assailants could muster in
sufficient force to overcome them.

Orders were also issued for a party of men to proceed to the quay,
and to arrest and carry off anyone they might find hanging about
there.

All arranged, the party moved off and the work was begun. Thick
rolls of flannel had been fastened round the ends of the ladders,
so as to prevent the slightest noise being made when they came in
contact with the wall. Rupert saw the ladders planted at the back
of the house, and the men ready to climb to their places. He then
moved round to the front; here the ladder was also fixed. A light
flashed down from the terrace above showed that here too the party
were in position; and Rupert began to mount, followed by Van Duyk,
who had insisted upon taking that post, so as to be ready to spring
to the assistance of his child at the first attack. The ladder
reached exactly to the window, and as his eyes reached the level
Rupert peered anxiously in.

At a table, on which burned a candle, sat a man with a huge bowl of
liquor and a brace of pistols before him. On a pallet bed in a
corner lay a figure, which Rupert felt sure was that of Maria.
Rupert doubted not in the least that the order to the watcher was
to kill her at the first alarm. Twice he raised his pistol, twice
withdrew it. If he did not kill the man on the spot, Maria's life
would be clearly forfeited. Under such circumstances he dared not
fire.

After a moment's thought he gave a sharp tap at the window, and
then shrank below the level of the window, and with both his
pistols pointed upwards, he waited. As he expected, in a moment the
window darkened, and the figure of a man was seen trying to look
out into the darkness. As he leaned against the glass, Rupert
discharged both his pistols into his body, and then, leaping up,
dashed in the window, and leapt over the man's body into the room.

Maria had sprung up with a scream.

"You are safe, Maria," Rupert exclaimed, as he ran to the door.
"Here is your father."

The discharge of the pistol had been the signal, and with it came a
sound of heavy blows, the crashing of timber, and the shivering of
glass. Then rose shouts and furious exclamations, and then a great
tramping sounded through the late silent house. Doors and windows
had all given way at the onset; and as Sir Richard Fulke with eight
comrades rushed upstairs, Hugh and his party ran down.

Torches had been provided, and lanterns, and as three of Hugh's men
carried them the broad landing was lighted up. Sir Richard Fulke
first turned to the door of Maria's room, but there Rupert and two
followers stood with drawn swords.

"Cut them down! Cut them down!" he shouted; but the rush of Hugh,
Joe Sedley, and the rest swept him back, and he fought now to
defend his life.

Up the stairs from behind ran the officers who had gained entry by
the windows; and the outlaws saw themselves surrounded and hedged
in. They fought desperately but vainly, and one by one fell under
the blows of their assailants.

Rupert stood immovable on guard. He knew the desperate nature of
his enemy, and feared that if he himself were drawn for a moment
from his post into the conflict, he would rush past and endeavour
to avenge himself upon them all by killing Maria.

At last, when most of his followers had fallen, Sir Richard Fulke
made a sudden dash through his assailants, and fled up the stairs
towards the door on the roof. Rupert, who had never for a moment
taken his eye off him, followed at full speed, shouting to Hugh to
bring torches and follow.

Short as was the start that was gained, it nearly sufficed for the
desperate man's escape; as Rupert gained the terrace, he was
already nearly at the top of the ladder against the roof. Rupert
seized the ladder, and jerked it sideways. Sir Richard made a grasp
at the crest of the roof, and then rolled down on to the terrace.

Rupert rushed forward, but the torches had not yet come, and his
enemy was on his feet and upon him, with the advantage which the
light coming up the stairs afforded him, and striking down his
guard, rushed in and grappled with him. Rupert dropped his sword,
which was useless now, and struggled for his life. He felt what his
enemy's object was, to throw both over the end of the terrace. He
was strong and athletic, but he was far from being a match for his
older opponent, to whom rage, despair, and hatred lent a prodigious
strength.

"Hugh," he shouted, "Quick! Quick!"

Joe Sedley was the first to leap to the terrace with a torch, and
stood for a moment aghast as he saw the deadly struggle going on,
close to the slight wooden railing which ran along the edge of the
terrace; then he sprang forward, and just as the struggling foes
crashed through the woodwork, and were in the very act of falling
over the low stone parapet, he dashed the torch in Sir Richard's
face, while at the same moment he grasped Rupert's shoulder with a
grip of iron, and dragged him back; as his foe loosed his grasp
when the torch struck him in the face, and dropped in the darkness.

"A close squeak that, sir. The fellow died hard," Joe Sedley said,
cheerily.

"It was indeed, Joe. I owe my life to you."

"Oh, it was all in the way of business, sir. You'll likely enough
do as much for me in our next charge."

Hugh was up a moment after Joe Sedley, for the latter had been
nearer to a man with a torch, but he just saw the narrow escape his
master had, and was so shaken that his hand trembled as he wrung
that of his comrade.

"I must stick to my sword, another time," Rupert said. "I am David
without his sling without it, and any Goliath who comes along can
make short work of me. Now let us go below and see after Miss van
Duyk, and assure ourselves that our enemy is dead at last. As he
said in the boat, I shall never feel quite safe till I know for
certain that he is dead."



Chapter 16: Ramilies.

Neither Rupert Holliday nor Maria van Duyk would be troubled more
with Sir Richard Fulke. He was absolutely and unquestionably dead.
He had fallen on his head, and death had been instantaneous. In the
man whom Rupert shot through the window, Hugh and he recognized the
fellow who had been his accomplice in the attempt to carry off
Maria in London.

Maria was wholly uninjured, although she was days before she was
able to speak with comfort, so roughly had the gag been thrust into
her mouth. She had not seen her chief abductor after she had been
carried off, as Sir Richard must have felt that it was in vain
either to threaten or to sue until he had got her in safety far
from Dort.

Leaving the rest of the gang to be dealt with by the authorities,
Rupert with his followers left Dort two days later, happy in having
finally freed his friends from the danger which had so long menaced
them. Mynheer van Duyk said but little; but Rupert knew how deep
were his feelings of gratitude; and he again sighed deeply over the
fact that Rupert was still but little over eighteen. Maria herself
was equally grateful.

Van Duyk would have freighted a shipful of presents to Rupert's
friends in England, but the latter would not hear of it. He
insisted, however, on sending a pipe of magnificent old Burgundy
for the colonel's drinking; while Maria sent a stomacher of antique
workmanship, with valuable gems, to Madame Holliday.

No adventure marked their homeward journey. Their ship took them
rapidly with a fair wind to London Bridge; and Rupert and Hugh
started next day by the coach for Derby, the former having made Joe
Sedley a handsome present, to enable him to enjoy his holiday, and
an invitation to come down to Windthorpe Chace when he was tired of
London.

A letter had been written from Holland a few days before starting,
to announce their coming, but it was, of course, impossible in the
days of sailing ships to fix a day for arrival.

Hiring a chaise, they drove to Windthorpe Chace, where the delight
both of Mistress Holliday and of the colonel was unbounded. Hugh,
too, was greeted very warmly by both, for Rupert had done full
justice to the services he had rendered him. It was difficult to
recognize in the dashing looking young officer and the stalwart
trooper the lads who but two years and a half before had ridden
away posthaste from the Chace. Hugh was driven off to the farm; and
Rupert remained alone with his mother and the colonel, who
overwhelmed him with questions.

The colonel had changed but little, and bid fair to live to a great
age. His eye was bright, and his bearing still erect. He scarcely
looked sixty-five, although he was more than ten years older.

Mistress Dorothy was, Rupert thought, softer and kinder than of
old. Her pride, and to some extent her heart, had met with a rude
shock, but her eyes were now fully open to the worthlessness of her
former suitor, who had lately been obliged to fly the country,
having been detected at cheating at cards.

Colonel Holliday rejoiced when he heard of the pipe of prime
Burgundy, which started from London on the day Rupert left; while
Mistress Dorothy was enchanted with the stomacher, which her son
produced from his trunk.

"Have you ever heard from Monsieur Dessin, grandfather? You told me
that he said he would write and tell you his real name."

"I doubt not that he did so, Rupert; but the carriage of letters
between this and France is precarious. Only smugglers or such like
bring them over, and these, except when specially paid, care but
little for the trouble. That he wrote I am certain, but his letter
has not reached me, which I regret much."

The six months at home passed rapidly. Rupert fell into his old
ways; rode and hawked, and occasionally paid state visits to the
gentry of the neighbourhood, by whom, as one of Marlborough's
soldiers, he was made much of.

"I think this soldiering life makes one restless, Master Rupert,"
Hugh said one day when the time was approaching for their start. "I
feel a longing to be with the troop again, to be at work and
doing."

"I feel the same, Hugh; but you would not find it so, I think, if
you had come home for good. Then you would have your regular
pursuits on the farm, while now you have simply got tired of having
no work to do. When the war is over, and we have done soldiering,
you will settle down on one of the farms of the Chace. Madame says
you shall have the first that falls vacant when you come home. Then
you will take a wife, and be well content that you have seen the
world, and have something to look back upon beyond a six miles
circuit of Derby."

The next campaign may be passed over briefly. The parsimony of
England and Holland, and the indifference of Germany, spoiled all
the plans of Marlborough, and lost the allies all the benefits of
the victory of Blenheim. The French, in spite of their heavy
losses, took the field in far greater force than the allies; and
instead of the brilliant offensive campaign he had planned,
Marlborough had to stand on the defensive.

The gallantry of his English troops, and the effect which Blenheim
had produced upon the morale of the French, enabled him to hold the
ground won, and to obtain several minor successes; one notably at
the Dyle, where Villeroi's troops were driven out of lines
considered impregnable, but where the pusillanimity and ill will of
the Dutch generals prevented any substantial results being
obtained; but no important action took place, and the end of 1705
found things in nearly the same state that 1704 had left them.

The non success of the campaign undid some of the harm which the
success of that of 1704 had effected. In Flanders the genius of the
duke had enabled the allies to maintain their ground; but on the
Rhine they had done badly, and in Italy the French had carried all
before them. Therefore while after Blenheim an apathy had fallen on
the victors, so now the extent of the danger moved them to fresh
exertions.

Marlborough, after seeing his army into winter quarters, visited
the capitals of Vienna, Berlin, and the Hague, and again by the
charm of his manner succeeded in pacifying jealousies, in healing
quarrels, and in obtaining the promises of vigorous action and
larger armaments in the spring.

The bad conduct of the Dutch generals had created such a general
cry of indignation through Europe, that the States General were
compelled, by the pressure of public opinion, to dismiss several of
the men who had most distinguished themselves by thwarting the
plans of Marlborough, and interposing on every occasion between him
and victory. Consequently the campaign of 1706 seemed likely to
open with far brighter prospects of success than its predecessors
had done.

Suddenly, however, all the arrangements broke down. The
Imperialists had just suffered another reverse in Italy; and
matters looked so desperate there, that Marlborough proposed to
pass the Alps with an army of 40,000 men to their assistance, and
there, as he would have the warm cooperation of Prince Eugene
instead of the cowardice of the Dutch generals, and the incapacity
and obstinacy of the Prince of Baden, he anticipated the complete
discomfiture of the French.

In these hopes, however, he was thwarted. The Prince of Baden would
do nothing beyond defending his own dominion. The cabinets of
Berlin and Copenhagen fell to quarrelling, and both refused to
supply their promised contingents. The Hanoverians and Hessians had
also grievances, and refused to join in any general plan, or to
send their troops to form part of the allied army. Thus all ideas
of a campaign in the south were destroyed; but Marlborough
persuaded the Dutch to send 10,000 of the troops in their pay
across the Alps to assist Prince Eugene, under the promise that he
with the English and Dutch troops would defend Flanders.

So the campaign commenced; and on the 19th of May Marlborough
joined his army, which lay encamped on the Dyle, on the French
frontier. On the 22nd a Danish contingent, which had at the last
moment been dispatched in answer to an urgent appeal of the duke,
arrived; and his army now consisted of 73 battalions and 123
squadrons, in all 60,000 men, with 120 guns. Marshal Villeroi's
force, which lay on the other side of the Dyle, consisted of 74
battalions and 128 squadrons--62,000 men, with 130 guns. They had
also, as at Blenheim, the advantage that the troops were all of one
nationality, and accustomed to act together, while Marlborough's
army consisted of troops of three nations, at least half of them
new to war, and unused to act with each other.

Marlborough opened the campaign by moving towards Tirlemont, with a
view of laying siege to Namur, where many of the citizens were
anxious to throw off the French yoke. Villeroi, anxious to cover
Namur, moved his troops out from their quarters on the Dyle to stop
the advance of the allies, and bring on a battle in the open field.

The ground taken up by the French marshal was exceedingly strong.
Marlborough was aware of the great importance of the position, and
had made every effort to be the first to seize it; but the French
had less distance to march, and when the allied troops arrived
within sight of the ground, the French were already in camp upon
Mont Saint Andre.

Mont Saint Andre is an extensive and elevated plateau, being,
indeed, the highest ground in Brabant. From it four rivers take
their rise--the Great Gheet, the Little Gheet, the Dyle, and the
Mehaigne. The French camp was placed immediately above the sources
of the two Gheets.

The plan of the battle should be examined carefully, and the events
of the great battle will then be understood without difficulty.

The descents from the plateau to the Great Gheet are steep and
abrupt. The other rivers rise in wet marshes, in some places
impassable. The French left was on the crest of the ridge, above
the marshes of the Little Gheet, and extended to the village of
Autre Eglise; while the extreme right stood on the high ground
overlooking the sources of the Mehaigne. The village of Tavieres,
in front of the right, was strongly held; while in the villages of
Offuz and Ramilies, opposite their centre, were numerous infantry,
no less than twenty battalions occupying Ramilies.

The great bulk of the French cavalry were arranged in two lines on
their right, the extreme right of their cavalry being in front of
the tomb, or barrow, of the ancient German hero Ottomond; the
highest part of the ridge, and commanding the whole field of
battle.

Marlborough, having with the Dutch General Overkirk, a loyal and
gallant old man, reconnoitred the ground, immediately formed his
plan of attack.

The French position was somewhat in the form of a bow, the ends
being advanced. They would therefore have more difficulty in
sending troops from one end to the other of their line than would
the allies, who could move in a direct line along, as it were, the
string of the bow; and the ground was sufficiently undulating to
enable the movements of troops to be concealed from the enemy on
the plateau.

The commanding position of Ottomond's tomb appeared the key of the
whole battleground; and Marlborough determined to make his main
attack on this point, first deceiving the enemy by a feigned attack
on their left. Accordingly, he formed, in a conspicuous position, a
heavy column of attack, opposite the French left, and menacing the
village of Autre Eglise.

Villeroi, believing that the main attack would be made there, moved
a considerable body of his infantry from his centre behind Offuz,
to reinforce Autre Eglise.

As the column of attack advanced, a large portion was withdrawn by
a dip behind the rising ground on which the others advanced, and
moved rapidly towards the left centre; the Danish horse, twenty
squadrons strong, being directed to the same spot. The smoke of the
advance towards Autre Eglise, and the nature of the ground,
concealed all these movements from the French, who directed a very
heavy artillery fire on the column advancing against Autre Eglise.

Suddenly the real attack began. Five Dutch battalions advanced
against Tavieres; twelve battalions under General Schultz,
supported by a strong reserve, moved to attack Ramilies.

The vehemence of their attack showed Villeroi that he had been
deceived; but he had now no infantry available to move to reinforce
the troops in the threatened villages. He therefore ordered
fourteen squadrons of dragoons to dismount, and with two Swiss
battalions to advance to the support of Tavieres. They arrived,
however, too late, for before they could reach the spot, the Dutch
battalions had, with great gallantry, carried the village; and the
Duke of Marlborough, launching the Danish horse on the supports as
they came up, cut them up terribly, and threw back the remnant in
confusion upon the French cavalry, advancing to charge.

Overkirk now charged the French cavalry with the first of the
allied horse, broke and drove them back; but at this moment, when
the allied cavalry were in disorder after their success, the second
line of French cavalry, among whom were the Royal life guards,
burst upon them, drove them back in great confusion, and restored
the battle in that quarter.

The danger was great, for the victorious cavalry might have swept
round, and fallen upon the rear of the infantry engaged in the
attack upon Ramilies. Marlborough saw the danger, and putting
himself at the head of seventeen squadrons of dragoons, and sending
an aide-de-camp to order up twenty squadrons still in reserve,
charged the French life guards. The French batteries on the heights
behind Ramilies poured in so dreadful a fire that the cavalry
hesitated, and some French troopers, recognizing the duke, made a
dash at him as he rode ahead of the troops.

In an instant he was surrounded; but before any of his troops could
ride to his rescue, he cut his way through the French troopers,
sword in hand. As his horse tried to leap a wall it fell, and the
enemy were again upon him. At this moment Rupert Holliday, whose
troop was in the front line, arrived on the spot, followed by Hugh
and half a dozen other troopers, and some of the Duke's personal
staff.

A desperate fight raged round the general, until the cavalry
charged heavily down to the rescue of their beloved leader. But
they were still over matched and pressed backwards by the French
guards. At this critical time, however, the twenty squadrons of the
reserve arrived on the ground, and charged the French cavalry in
front, while the Danish cavalry, who had been detained by morasses,
fell at the same moment on their flank, and the French cavalry fell
back in confusion. Forming the allied cavalry in two lines,
Marlborough led them forward in person, and sweeping aside all
resistance, they halted not until they reached the summit of
Ottomond's tomb, where they were visible to the whole army, while a
tremendous shout told friend and foe alike that the key of the
whole position had been gained, and victory in that part of the
field secured.

All this time the twenty French battalions in Ramilies under the
Marquis Maffie had fought obstinately, although far removed from
succour. Gradually, however, they were driven out of the village.
The British had fresh battalions of infantry available, and these
were sent against them, and the victorious horse charging them in
flank, they were almost all made prisoners or destroyed.

The fight had lasted but three hours, and the victory was complete
on the right and left. The confusion was, however, great, and
Marlborough halted his troops and reformed them, before advancing
to the final attack; while Marshal Villeroi strove on his part also
to reform his troops, and to take up a new front. The roads, were,
however, choked with baggage waggons and artillery, and before the
troops could take up their fresh posts, the allies were ready. The
charge was sounded, and horse and foot advanced to the attack on
the centre, while the troops who had commenced the battle by their
demonstration against Autre Eglise joined in the general attack.

Confused and disheartened, the French did not await the onslaught,
but broke and fled. The Spanish and Bavarian horse guards made a
gallant attempt to stem the tide of defeat, but were cut to pieces.
The battle was now over. It was a rout and a pursuit, and the
British horse, under Lord Orkney, pursued the fugitives until they
reached Louvain, at two o'clock in the morning.

In the battle of Ramilies the French lost in killed and wounded
7000 men, and 6000 were taken prisoners. They lost 52 guns, their
whole baggage and pontoon train, and 80 standards. Among the
prisoners were the Princes de Soubise and Rohan, while among the
killed were many nobles of the best blood of France.

The Allies lost 1066 killed, and 2567 wounded, in all 3633 men.

But great as was the victory itself, the consequences were even
more important. Brussels, Louvain, Mechlin, Alost, Luise, and all
the chief towns of Brabant, speedily opened their gates to the
conqueror. Ghent and Bruges, Darn and Oudenarde, followed the
example. Of all the cities of Flanders, Antwerp, Ostend, Nieuport,
and Dunkirk, with some smaller fortresses, alone held out for the
French.

The Duke of Marlborough issued the most stringent orders for the
protection and fair treatment of the inhabitants, and so won such
general goodwill among the populations, that when he advanced on
Antwerp the local troops and citizens insisted on a surrender; and
the French troops capitulated, on condition of being allowed to
march out with the honours of war, and to be escorted safely to the
French frontier. Ostend was then besieged, and captured after a
brave resistance; and then, after a desperate resistance, the
important and very strong fortress of Menin was carried by assault,
1400 of the storming party, principally British, being slain at the
breach. Dindermande and Ath were next taken, and the allied army
then went into winter quarters, after a campaign as successful, and
far more important in its results, than that of Blenheim.



Chapter 17: A Prisoner of War.

In the brilliant results which arose from the victory at Ramilies,
Rupert Holliday had no share. The 5th dragoons formed part of the
cavalry force which, when the battle was over, pursued the broken
French cavalry to the gates of Hochstad.

In the pursuit, along a road encumbered with deserted waggons,
tumbrels, and guns, the pursuers after nightfall became almost as
much broken up as the pursued.

Rupert's horse towards the end of the pursuit went dead lame, and
he dismounted in order to see if he could do anything to its hoof.
He found a sharp stone tightly jammed in the shoe, and was
struggling to get this out when the troop again moved forward. Not
doubting that he would overtake them in a minute or two, and
fearing that unless his horse was relieved of the stone it would
become so lame that it would not be able to carry him back, Rupert
hammered away at it with a large boulder from the road. It was a
longer job than he had anticipated, and five minutes elapsed before
he succeeded in getting the stone out, and then, mounting his
horse, he rode briskly forward. Presently he came to a point where
the road forked. He drew rein and listened, and thought he heard
the tramping of horse on the road that led to the left. As he rode
on the noise became louder, and in another five minutes he came up
to the troop.

It was quite dark, and riding past the men, he made his way to the
head of the column.

"I have had an awful bother in getting rid of that stone," he said,
as he rode up to the leader. "I began to think that I should lose
you altogether. It is quite a chance I took this road."

"An unfortunate chance, sir, for you. A fortunate one for us," the
officer he addressed said in English, but with a strong accent,
"since you are our prisoner," and as he spoke he laid his hand on
Rupert's bridle.

Rupert gave an exclamation of horror at finding the mistake that he
had made, but he saw at once that resistance would be useless.

"Je me rends, monsieur. But what horrible luck."

The three French officers at the head of the troop burst into a
laugh.

"Monsieur," the one who had first spoken said, now in his native
tongue, "we are indebted to you, for you have made us laugh, and
heaven knows we have had little enough to laugh at today. But how
came you here? Your cavalry have taken the upper road. We were
drawn up to make a last charge, when we heard them turn off that
way; and were, I can tell you, glad enough to get off without more
fighting. We have had enough of it for one day."

As the speaker proceeded, Rupert became more and more convinced
that he knew the voice; and the fact that the speaker was
acquainted with English, the more convinced him that he was right.

"I stopped to get rid of a stone in my horse's hoof," he said. "If
I had only had a fight for it I should not have minded, but not
even to have the pleasure of exchanging a pass or two with one of
you gentlemen is hard indeed."

"It is just as well that you did not," one of the officers said,
"for Monsieur le Marquis de Pignerolles is probably the best
swordsman in our army."

"The Marquis de Pignerolles," Rupert said, courteously; "it would
have been a pleasure to have crossed swords with him, but scarcely
fair, for he knows already that he is not a match for me."

"What!" exclaimed the marquis himself and the two officers, in
astonishment.

"You are pleased to joke, sir," the marquis said haughtily.

"Not at all," Rupert said, gravely. "You have met two persons who
were your match. You remember Monsieur Dalboy?"

"Dalboy!" the marquis said. "Surely, surely, le Maitre Dalboy,
yet--?"

"No, I am assuredly not Monsieur Dalboy," Rupert said. "And the
other?"

The marquis reined in his horse suddenly.

"What!" he said, "you are--?"

"Rupert Holliday, my dear Monsieur Dessin."

"My dear, dear lad," the marquis exclaimed. "What pleasure! What
delight!" and drawing his horse by the side of Rupert he embraced
him with affection.

"My friends," he said to the other officers, who were naturally
astonished at this sudden recognition between their prisoner and
their colonel, "gentlemen, this English officer is my very dear
friend. What kindness have I not received from his grandfather
during my time of exile! While to himself I am deeply indebted.

"What a fortunate chance, that if you were to have the bad luck to
be made prisoner, you should fall into my hands of all men. I wish
that I could let you go, but you know--"

"Of course, of course," Rupert said. "Really I am hardly sorry,
since it has brought us together again."

"Did you recognize my name?" the marquis said.

"No indeed," Rupert answered. "The letter which, we doubted not,
that you wrote to my grandfather, never came to hand, and we never
knew what Monsieur Dessin's real name was, so that Colonel Holliday
did not know to whom to write in France."

"I wrote twice," the marquis said, "but I guessed that the letters
had never arrived. And the good gentleman your grandfather, he is
still alive and well?"

"As well as ever," Rupert said, "and will be delighted to hear of
you.

"Mademoiselle is well, I trust?"

"Quite well, and quite a belle at the court, I can assure you," the
marquis said. "But there are the gates of Louvain. You will, of
course, give me your parole not to try to escape, and then you can
come straight to my quarters with me, and I need not report you for
a day or so. We shall be in fearful confusion tonight, for half our
army is crowding in here, and every one must shift for himself.

"Peste! What a beating you have given us! That Marlborough of yours
is terrible.

"I know some people here," he said, turning to the officers. "They
will take us four in, and the men must picket their horses in the
courtyard and street, and lie down in their cloaks. Tomorrow we
will see what is to be done, and how many have escaped from the
terrible debacle."

The streets of Louvain were crowded with fugitives, some of them
had thrown themselves down by the sidewalks, utterly exhausted;
others mingled with the anxious townsmen, and related the incidents
of the disastrous day; while the horses stood, with drooping heads,
huddled together along the middle of the street. It was only by
making long detours that the Marquis de Pignerolles reached the
house of which he was in search. Late as was the hour the inmates
were up, for the excitement at Louvain was so great that no one had
thought of going to bed; and Monsieur Cardol, his wife and family,
did all in their power for their guests.

Supper was quickly laid for the four gentlemen; a barrel of wine
was broached for the troops, and what provisions were in the house
were handed over to them.

"Now let us look at you," the Marquis de Pignerolles said, as they
entered the brightly lighted room. "Ah, you are a man now; but your
face has little changed--scarcely at all."

"I am scarcely a man yet," Rupert said, laughing. "I am just twenty
now; it is rather more than four years since we parted, without
even saying goodbye."

"Yes, indeed, Rupert. I tried to do you a good turn in the matter
of the Brownlows. I hope it succeeded."

"It did indeed," Rupert said. "We are indeed indebted to you for
your intervention then. You saved my lady mother from a wretched
marriage, and you saved for me the lands of Windthorpe Chace."

"Ah, I am glad it came off well. But I am your debtor still, mind
that; and always shall be. And now to supper. First, though, I must
introduce you formally to my comrades, and to our host and hostess,
and their pretty daughters."

Very much surprised were the latter when they heard that the
handsome young officer was an Englishman and a prisoner.

"He does not look very terrible, does he, this curly-haired young
fellow, mademoiselles; but he is one of those terrible horse which
have broken the cavalry of the Maison du Roi today, and scattered
the chivalry of France. As to himself, he is a Rustium, a Bobadil,
if he has, as I doubt not, kept up his practice--" and he looked at
Rupert, who nodded smilingly; for he had indeed, during the four
years he had been in Flanders, not only practised assiduously in
the regimental fencing salles, but had attended all the schools
kept by the best Spanish, Italian, and German teachers, keeping
himself in practice, and acquiring a fresh pass here, an ingenious
defence there, and ever improving--"The first swordsman in France
would run a chance against this good-tempered-looking lad with his
blue eyes."

The French girls opened their eyes in astonishment, but they were
not quite sure whether the marquis was not making fun of them.

"Parbleu!" the two officers exclaimed. "You are not in earnest
surely, marquis?"

"I am, indeed, gentlemen; and I can claim some share of the merit,
for I taught him myself; and before he was sixteen he was a better
swordsman than I was; and as he loved the art, he will have gone on
improving, and must be miraculous.

"By the way," he said, suddenly, "there was a story went through
Flanders near four years back of the best swordsman in the German
army being killed by a mere boy in an English regiment, and I said
then, I think that this must be my pupil. Was it so?"

"It was," Rupert said. "It was a painful affair; but I was forced
into it."

"Make no excuse, I beg," the marquis said, laughing.

"Now, young ladies, let us to supper; but beware of this prisoner
of war, for if he is only half as formidable with his eyes as with
his wrist, it is all up with your poor hearts."

Then, with much merriment, the four officers sat down to table,
their host and hostess joining for company, and the young ladies
acting as attendants.

No one would have guessed that three of the party had formed part
of an army which that day had been utterly routed, or that the
other was their prisoner; but the temperament of the French enables
them to recover speedily from misfortune; and although they had
been dull and gloomy enough until Rupert so suddenly fell into
their hands, the happy accident of his being known to their
colonel, and the pleasure and excitement caused by the meeting,
sufficed to put them in high spirits again, especially as their own
corps had suffered but slightly in the action, having been in
reserve on the left, and never engaged except in a few charges to
cover the retreat.

When the battle was alluded to, the brows of the French officers
clouded, and they denounced in angry terms the fatal blunder of the
marshal of weakening his centre to strengthen the left against a
feigned attack. But the subject soon changed again, for, as the
marquis said, "It would be quite time to talk it over tomorrow,
when they would know who had fallen, and what were the losses;" for
from their position on the left, they had little idea of the
terrible havoc which had been made among the best blood in France.

Long after all the others had retired, the marquis and Rupert sat
together talking over old times. Rupert learned that even before he
had left the Chace the marquis had received news that the order of
banishment, which the king had passed against him because he had
ventured to speak in public in terms of indignation at the
wholesale persecution of the Protestants, had been rescinded; and
that the estates, which had also been confiscated, were restored.
The Protestant persecutions had become things of the past, the
greater portion of the French Protestants having fled the country;
and the powerful friends of De Pignerolles had never ceased to
interest themselves in his favour. The king, too, was in need of
experienced soldiers for the war which was about to break out; and
lastly, and by the tone in which his friend spoke Rupert saw that
the subject was rather a sore one, his Majesty wished to have Adele
near the court.

"Mademoiselle Dessin!" Rupert said, in astonishment.

"Well, not exactly Mademoiselle Dessin," the marquis said, smiling,
"but la Marquise Adele de Pignerolles, who is by her mother's
side--she was a Montmorency--one of the richest heiresses in
France, and as inheriting those lands, a royal ward, although I,
her father, am alive."

"But even so," Rupert said, "what can his Majesty wish to have her
at court for?"

"Because, as a very rich heiress, and as a very pretty one, her
hand is a valuable prize, and his Majesty may well intend it as a
reward to some courtier of high merit."

"Oh, Monsieur Dessin!" Rupert said, earnestly; "surely you do not
mean that!"

"I am sorry to say that I do, Master Rupert. The Grand Monarque is
not in the habit of considering such trifles as hearts or
inclinations in the bestowal of his royal wards; and although it is
a sort of treason to say so, I would rather be back in England, or
have Adele to myself, and be able to give her to some worthy man
whom she might love, than to see her hand held out as a prize of
the courtiers of Versailles. I have lived long enough in England to
have got some of your English notions, that a woman ought at least
to have the right of refusal."

Rupert said nothing, but he felt sorry and full of pity at the
thought of the young girl he remembered so well being bestowed as a
sort of royal gift upon some courtier, quite irrespective of the
dictates of her own heart. After sitting some time in silence, the
marquis changed the subject suddenly.

"I am afraid you will not be exchanged before next winter, Rupert.
There are, no doubt, plenty of prisoners in Marlborough's hands,
but the campaign is sure to be a stirring and rapid one after this
defeat. He will strike heavy blows, and we shall be doing our best
to avoid them. It will not be until the fighting is over that the
negotiations for the exchange of prisoners will begin."

The next morning the Marquis de Pignerolles went off early to the
headquarters of the commandant; and Rupert remained chatting with
the family of his host. Two hours later he returned.

"Things are worse than I even feared," he said; "the royal guards
are almost destroyed, and the destruction wrought in all our noble
families is terrible. It is impossible to estimate our total loss
at present, but it is put down at 20,000, including prisoners. In
fact, as an army it has almost ceased to exist; and your
Marlborough will be able to besiege the fortresses of Flanders as
he likes. There has been a council of all the general officers here
this morning. I am to carry some dispatches to Versailles--not
altogether a pleasant business, but some one must do it, and of
course he will have heard the main incidents direct from Villeroi.
I leave at noon, Rupert, and you will accompany me, unless indeed
you would prefer remaining here on the chance of getting an earlier
exchange."

Rupert naturally declared at once for the journey to Paris.
Officers on parole were in those days treated with great courtesy,
especially if they happened to have a powerful friend. He therefore
looked forward to a pleasant stay in Paris, and to a renewal of his
acquaintance with Adele, and to a sight of the glories of
Versailles, which, under Louis XIV, was the gayest, the most
intellectual, and the most distinguished court of Europe.

Louis XIV could not be termed a good man, but he was unquestionably
a great king. He did much for France, whose greatness and power he
strove to increase; and yet it was in no slight degree owing to his
policy that, seventy years later, a tempest was to burst out in
France, which was to sweep away the nobility and the crown itself;
which was to deluge the soil of France with its best blood, to
carry war through Europe, and to end at last by the prostration of
France beneath the feet of the nations to whom she had been a
scourge.

The tremendous efforts made by Louis XIV to maintain the Spanish
succession, which he had secured for France; the draining of the
land of men; and the impoverishing of the nobles, who hesitated at
no sacrifices and efforts to enable the country to make head
against its foes, exhausted the land; while the immense
extravagance of the splendid court in the midst of an impoverished
land, ruined not only by war, but by the destruction of its trade,
by the exile of the best and most industrious of its people on
account of their religion, caused a deep and widespread discontent
throughout the towns and country of France.

Three hours later, Rupert set out with the Marquis of Pignerolles
and two troopers. After two days ride through Belgium they reached
Valenciennes, where the uniform of Rupert, in the scarlet and
bright cuirass of the British dragoons, excited much attention, for
British prisoners were rare in France.

On the evening of the fifth day they reached Paris, where they rode
to the mansion of the marquis. Rupert was aware that he would not
see Adele, who was, her father had told him, at Versailles, under
the care of Madame de Soissons, one of the ladies of the court.
Rupert was told to consider himself at home; and then the marquis
rode on to Versailles.

"I saw his Majesty last night," he told Rupert when he returned
next morning, "and he was very gracious. I hear that even Brousac,
who brought the news of our defeat, was kindly received. I am told
that he feels the cutting up of his guards very much. A grand
entertainment, which was to have taken place this week, has been
postponed, and there will be no regular fetes this autumn. I told
his Majesty that I had brought you with me on parole, and the
manner of your capture. He charged me to make the time pass
pleasantly for you, and to bring you down to Versailles, and to
present you at the evening reception.

"We must get tailors to work at once, Rupert, for although you must
of course appear in uniform, that somewhat war-stained coat of
yours is scarcely fit for the most punctilious court in Europe.
However, as they will have this coat for a model, the tailors will
soon fashion you a suit which would pass muster as your uniform
before Marlborough himself.

"I saw Adele, and told her I had brought an English officer, who
had galloped in the darkness into our ranks, as a prisoner. I did
not mention your name. It will be amusing to see if she recognizes
you. She was quite indignant at my taking you prisoner, and said
that she thought soldiers ought not to take advantage of an
accident of that kind. In fact, although Adele, as I tell her, is
very French at heart, the five years she passed in Derby have left
a deep impression upon her. She was very happy at school. Every
one, as she says, was kind to her; and the result is, that although
she rejoices over our victories in Italy and Germany, she talks
very little about the Flanders campaign; about which, by the way,
were she even as French as possible, there would not be anything
very pleasant to say."

Rupert was at once furnished from the wardrobe of the marquis with clothes
of all kinds, and as they were about the same height--although Rupert was
somewhat broader and heavier--the things fitted well, and Rupert was able
to go about Paris, without being an object of observation and curiosity
by the people.

Rupert was somewhat disappointed in Paris. Its streets were
narrower than those of London, and although the public buildings
were fine, the Louvre especially being infinitely grander than the
Palace of Saint James, there was not anything like the bustle and
rush of business which had struck Rupert so much on his arrival in
London.

Upon arriving at Versailles, however, Rupert was struck with
wonder. Nothing that he had seen could compare with the stately
glories of Versailles, which was then the real capital of France. A
wing of the magnificent palace was set apart for the reception of
the nobles and military men whose business brought them for short
periods to the court, and here apartments had been assigned to the
marquis. The clothes had already been sent down by mounted lackeys,
and Rupert was soon in full uniform again, the cuirass alone being
laid aside. The laced scarlet coat, and the other items of attire,
were strictly in accordance with the somewhat lax regulations as to
the dress of an officer of dragoons; but the lace cravat falling in
front, and the dress lace ruffles of the wrists, were certainly
more ample than the Duke of Marlborough might have considered fit
for strict regimental attire. But indeed there was little rule as
to dress in those early days of a regular British army.

Rupert's knee breeches were of white satin, and his waistcoat of thick
brocaded silk of a delicate drab ground. Standing as he did some six
feet high, with broad shoulders, and a merry, good-tempered face, with
brown curls falling on his lace collar, the young lieutenant was as
fine a looking specimen of a well-grown Englishman as could be desired.

"Ma foi!" the marquis said, when he came in in full dress to see if
Rupert was ready, "we shall have the ladies of the court setting
their caps at you, and I must hasten to warn my countrymen of your
skill with the rapier, or you will be engaged in a dozen affairs of
honour before you have been here as many days.

"No," he said, laughing at Rupert's gestures of dislike to
duelling, "his gracious Majesty has strictly forbidden all
duelling, and--well, I will not say that there is none of it, but
it goes on behind the scenes, for exile from court is the least
punishment, and in some cases rigorous imprisonment when any
special protege of the king has been wounded.

"And now, Rupert, it is time to be off. The time for gathering in
the antechamber is at hand. By the way, I have said nothing to the
king of our former knowledge of each other. There were reasons why
it was better not to mention the fact."

Rupert nodded as he buckled on his sword and prepared to accompany
his friend.

Along stately corridors and broad galleries, whose magnificence
astonished and delighted Rupert, they made their way until they
reached the king's antechamber. Here were assembled a large number
of gentlemen, dressed in the extreme of fashion, some of whom
saluted the marquis, and begged particulars of him concerning the
late battles; for in those days news travelled slowly, newspapers
were scarcely in existence, special correspondents were a race of
men undreamed of.

To each of those who accosted him the marquis presented Rupert, who
was soon chatting as if at Saint James's instead of Versailles. In
Flanders he had found that all the better classes spoke French,
which was also used as the principal medium of communication
between the officers of that many-tongued body the allied army,
consequently he spoke it as fluently and well as he had done as a
lad. Presently the great door at the end of the antechamber was
thrown back, and the assembled courtiers fell back on either side.

Then one of the officers of the court entered, crying, "The king,
gentlemen, the king!"

And then Louis himself, followed by some of the highest officers of
state, entered.



Chapter 18: The Court of Versailles.

As the King of France entered the antechamber a dead hush fell upon
all there, and Rupert Holliday looked eagerly to see what sort of
man was the greatest sovereign in Europe.

Louis was under middle height, in spite of his high-heeled shoes,
but he had an air of dignity which fully redeemed his want of
stature. Although he was sixty-six years of age, he was still
handsome, and his eyes were bright, and his movements quick and
vivacious.

The courtiers all bent low as the king moved slowly down the line,
addressing a word here and there. The king's eye quickly caught
that of the young Englishman, who with his companion was taller
than the majority of those present.

Louis moved forward until he stopped before him.

"So, Sir Englishman," he said, "you are one of those who have been
maltreating our soldiers. Methinks I have more reason than you have
to complain of the fortune of war, but I trust that in your case
the misfortune will be a light one, and that your stay in our court
and capital will not be an unpleasant one."

"I have no reason, sire, to complain of the fortune of war," Rupert
said, "since to it I owe the honour of seeing your gracious
Majesty, and the most brilliant court in the world!"

"Spoken like a courtier," the king said with a slight smile. "Pray
consider yourself invited to all the fetes at court and to all our
entrees and receptions, and I hope that all will do their best to
make your stay here agreeable."

Then with a slight inclination of the head he passed on, saying in
an audible tone to the nobles who walked next, but a little behind
him, "This is not such a bear as are his island countrymen in
general!"

"In another hour, Rupert, is the evening reception, at which the
ladies of the court will be present; and although all set fetes
have been arrested owing to the news of the defeat in Flanders, yet
as the king chooses to put a good face upon it, everyone else will
do the same, therefore you may expect a brilliant assembly. Adele
will of course be there. Shall I introduce you, or leave it to
chance?"

"I would rather you left it to chance," Rupert said, "except, that
as you do not desire it to be known that we have met before, it
would be better that you should present me personally; but I should
like to see if she will recognize me before you do so."

"My daughter is a young lady of the court of his most puissant
Majesty Louis the 14th," the marquis said, somewhat bitterly, "and
has learned not to carry her heart upon her sleeve. But before you
show yourself near her, I will just warn her by a word that a
surprise may take place in the course of the evening, and that it
is not always expedient to recognize people unless introduced
formally. That will not be sufficient to give her any clue to your
being here, but when she sees you she will recall my warning, and
act prudently."

Presently they entered the immense apartment, or rather series of
apartments, in which the receptions took place.

Here were gathered all the ladies of the court; all the courtiers,
wits, and nobles of France, except those who were in their places
with the army. There was little air of ceremony. All present were
more or less acquainted with each other.

In a room screened off by curtains, the king was playing at cards
with a few highly privileged members of the court, and he would
presently walk through the long suite of rooms, but while at cards
his presence in no ways weighed upon the assembly. Groups of ladies
sat on fauteuils surrounded by their admirers, with whom volleys of
light badinage, fun, and compliments were exchanged.

Leaving Rupert talking to some of those to whom he had been
introduced in the king's antechamber, and who were anxious to obey
the royal command to make themselves agreeable to him, the Marquis
de Pignerolles sauntered across the room to a young lady who was
sitting with three others, surrounded by a group of gentlemen.

Rupert was watching him, and saw him stoop over the girl, for she
was little more, and say a few words in her ear. A surprised and
somewhat puzzled expression passed across her face, and then as her
father left her she continued chatting as merrily as before.

Rupert could scarcely recognize in the lovely girl of seventeen the
little Adele with whom he had danced and walked little more than
four years before.

Adele de Pignerolles was English rather than French in her style of
beauty, for her hair was browner, and her complexion fresher and
clearer, than those of the great majority of her countrywomen. She
was vivacious, but her residence in England had taught her a
certain restraint of gesture and motion, and her admirers, and she
had many, spoke of her as l'Anglaise.

Rupert gradually moved away from those with whom he was talking,
and, moving round the group, went through an open window on to a
balcony, whence he could hear what was being said by the lively
party, without his presence being noticed.

"You are cruel, Mademoiselle d'Etamps," one of the courtiers said.
"I believe you have no heart. You love to drive us to distraction,
to make us your slaves, and then you laugh at us."

"It is all you deserve, Monsieur le Duc. One would as soon think of
taking the adoration of a butterfly seriously. One is a flower,
butterflies come round, and when they find no honey, flit away
elsewhere. You amuse yourself, so do I. Talk about hearts, I do not
believe in such things."

"That is treason," the young lady who sat next to her said,
laughing. "Now, I am just the other way; I am always in love, but
then I never can tell whom I love best, that is my trouble. You are
all so nice, messieurs, that it is impossible for me to say whom I
love most."

The young men laughed.

"And you, Mademoiselle de Rohan, will you confess?"

"Oh, I am quite different," she said. "I quite know whom I love
best, but just as I am quite sure about it, he does something
disagreeable or stupid--all men are really disagreeable or stupid
when you get to know them--and so then I try another, but it is
always with the same result."

"You are all very cruel," the Duc de Carolan laughed. "And you,
Mademoiselle de Pignerolles? But I know what you will say, you have
never seen anyone worth loving."

Adele did not answer; but her laughing friends insisted that as
they had confessed their inmost thoughts, she ought to do the same.

For a moment she looked serious, then she laughed, and again put on
a demure air.

"Yes," said she, "I have had a grande passion, but it came to
nothing."

A murmur of "Impossible!" ran round the circle.

"It was nearly four years ago," she said.

"Oh, nonsense, Adele, you were a child four years ago," one of her
companions said.

"Of course I was a child," Adele said, "but I suppose children can
love, and I loved an English boy."

"Oh, oh, mademoiselle, an English boy!" and other amused cries ran
round the circle.

"And did he love you, mademoiselle?" the Duc de Carolan asked.

"Oh, dear no," the girl answered. "I don't suppose I should have
loved him if he had. But he was strong, and gentle, and brave, and
he was nearly four years older than I was, and he always treated me
with respect. Oh, yes, I loved him."

"He must have been the most insensible of boys," the Duc de Carolan
said; "but no doubt he was very good and gentle, this youthful
islander; but how do you know that he was brave?"

The sneering tone with which the duke spoke was clearly resented by
Adele, for her cheek flushed, and she spoke with an earnestness
quite different from the half-laughing tone she had hitherto spoken
in.

"I know that he was brave, Monsieur le Duc, because he fought with,
and ran through the body, a man who insulted me."

The girl spoke so earnestly that for a moment a hush fell upon the
little group; and the Duc de Carolan, who clearly resented the warm
tone in which she spoke, said:

"Quite a hero of romance, mademoiselle. This unfortunate who
incurred your Paladin's indignation was clearly more insolent than
skillful, or Sir Amadis of sixteen could hardly have prevailed
against the dragon."

This time Adele de Pignerolles was seriously angry:

"Monsieur le Duc de Carolan," she said quietly, "you have honoured
me by professing some admiration of my poor person, and methinks
that good taste would have demanded that you would have feigned, at
least, some interest in the boy who championed my cause. I was
wrong, even in merry jest, to touch on such a subject, but I
thought that as French gentlemen you would understand that I was
half serious, half jesting at myself for this girlish love of mine.
He is not here to defend himself against your uncourteous remarks;
but, Monsieur le Duc, allow me to inform you that the fact that the
person who insulted me paid for it almost with his life was no
proof of his great want of skill, for monsieur my father will
inform you, if you care to ask him, that had you stood opposite to
my boy hero, the result would probably have been exactly the same;
for, as I have often heard him say that this boy was fully a match
for himself; I imagine that the chance of a nobleman who, with all
his merits, has not, so far as I have heard, any great pretensions
to special skill with his sword, would be slight indeed."

The duke, with an air of bitter mortification on his face, bowed
before the indignant tone in which Adele spoke; and as the little
circle broke up, the rumour ran round the room that L'Anglaise had
snubbed the Duc de Carolan in a crushing manner.

Scarcely had the duke, with a few murmured excuses, withdrawn from
the group, than the marquis advanced towards his daughter with a
tall figure by his side.

"Adele," he said, "allow me to introduce to you the English officer
whose own unlucky fate threw him into my hands. He desires to have
the honour of your acquaintance. You may remember his name, for his
family lived in the county in which we passed some time. Lieutenant
Rupert Holliday, of the English dragoons."

Adele had not looked up as her father spoke. As he crossed the room
towards her she had glanced towards his companion, whose dress
showed him to be the English officer who was, as she knew, with
him; but something in her father's tone of voice, still more the
sentences with which he introduced the name, warned her that this
was the surprise of which he had spoken, and the name, when it came
at last, was almost expected. Had it not been for the manner in
which she had just been speaking, and the vague wonder that flashed
through her mind whether he could have heard her, she could have
met Rupert, with such warning as she had had, as a perfect
stranger. What she had said was perfectly true, that as a child he
had been her hero; but a young girl's heroes seldom withstand the
ordeal of a four years' absence, and Adele was no exception. Rupert
had gone out of her existence, and she had not thought of him,
beyond an occasional feeling of wonder whether he was alive, for
years; and had it not been for that unlucky speech--which, indeed,
she could not have made had any of her girlish feeling remained,
she could have met him as frankly and cordially as in the days when
they danced together.

In spite, therefore, of her efforts, it was with a heightened
colour that, as demanded by etiquette, Adele rose, and making a
deep reverence in return to the even deeper bow of Rupert, extended
her hand, which, taking the tips of the fingers, Rupert bent over
and kissed. Then, looking up in her face, he said:

"The marquis your father has encouraged me to hope that you will
take pity upon a poor prisoner, and forget and forgive his having
fought against your compatriots."

Adele adroitly took up the line thus offered to her, and was soon deep
in a laughing contest with him as to the merits of their respective
countries, and above all as to his opinion of French beauty. Rupert
answered in the exaggerated compliments characteristic of the time.
After talking with her for some little time he withdrew, saying that he
should have the honour of calling upon the following day with her father.

The next day when they arrived Rupert was greeted with a frank
smile of welcome.

"I am indeed glad to see you again, Monsieur Rupert; but tell me
why was that little farce of pretending that we were strangers,
played yesterday?"

"It was my doing, Adele," her father said. "You know what the king
is. If he were aware that Rupert were an old friend of ours he
would imagine all sorts of things."

"What sort of things, papa?"

"To begin with, that Monsieur Rupert had come to carry you off from
the various noblemen, for one or other of whom his Majesty destines
your hand."

The girl coloured.

"What nonsense!

"However," she went on, "it would anyhow make no difference so far
as the king is concerned, for I am quite determined that I will go
into a convent and let all my lands go to whomsoever his Majesty
may think fit to give them rather than marry any one I don't care
for. I couldn't do it even to please you, papa, so you may be quite
sure I couldn't do it to please the king.

"And now let me look at you, Monsieur Rupert. I talked to you last
night, but I did not fairly look at you. Yes, you are really very
little altered except that you have grown into a man: but I should
have known you anywhere. Now, would you have known me?"

"Not if I had met you in the street," Rupert said. "When I talk to
you, and look at you closely, Mademoiselle Adele Dessin comes back
again; but at a casual glance you are simply Mademoiselle Adele de
Pignerolles."

"I wish I were Adele Dessin again," she said. "I should be a
thousand times happier living with my father than in this
artificial court, where no one is what they seem to be; where
everyone considers it his duty to say complimentary things; where
everyone seems to be gay and happy, but everyone is as much slaves
as if they wore chains. I break out sometimes, and astonish them."

A slight smile passed over Rupert's face; and Adele knew that he
had overheard her the evening before. The girl flushed hotly. Her
father and Madame de Soissons were talking together in a deep bay
window at the end of the room.

"So you heard me last night, Monsieur Rupert. Well, there is
nothing to be ashamed of. You were my hero when I was a child; I
don't mind saying so now. If you had made me your heroine it would
have been different, but you never did, one bit. Now don't try to
tell stories. I should find you out in a moment; I am accustomed to
hear falsehoods all day."

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, mademoiselle. Every one must
have a hero, and I was the only boy you knew. No one could have
misunderstood you; and even to those artificial fops who were
standing round you, there seemed nothing strange or unmaidenly in
your avowal that when you were a little girl you made a hero of a
boy. You are quite right, I did not make a heroine of you. Boys, I
think, always make heroines of women much older than themselves. I
looked upon you as a dear, bright little girl, whom I would have
cared for and protected as I would my favourite dog. Some boys are
given to heroine worship. I don't think that is my line. I am only
just getting out of my boyhood now, and I have never had a heroine
at all."

So they sat and chatted, easily and pleasantly, as if four years
had been rolled back, and they were boy and girl again in the
garden of Windthorpe Chace.

"I suppose I shall see you every evening at the court?" Rupert
said.

"I suppose so," the girl sighed. "But it will be much more pleasant
here. You will come with papa, won't you?"

"Whenever he will be good enough to bring me," Rupert said.

"You remember what I told you about Adele," the marquis said, as
they walked back to their rooms in the palace.

"Surely, sir," Rupert replied.

"I think it would be as well, both for her sake and your own, that
you should not frequent her society in public, Rupert. His Majesty
intends to give her hand to one of the half-dozen of his courtiers
who are at present intriguing for it. Happily, as she is little
over sixteen, although marriages here are often made at that age,
the question does not press; and I trust that he will not decide
for a year, or even longer. But if you were to be seen much at her
side, it might be considered that you were a possible rival, and
you might, if the king thought that there was the slightest risk of
your interfering with his plans, find yourself shut up in the
Bastille, or at Loches, or some other of the fortress dungeons, and
Adele might be ordered to give her hand at once to the man he
selected for her.

"There is hope in time. Adele may in time really come to love one
of her suitors, and if he were one of those whom the king would
like to favour, he would probably consent to the match. Then, the
king may die. It is treason even to suppose such a thing possible;
still he is but mortal; or something else may occur to change the
course of the future.

"Of one thing I have decided: I will not see Adele sacrificed. I
have for the last four years managed to transmit a considerable
portion of the revenues of my estates to the hands of a banker in
Holland; and if needs be I will again become an exile with her, and
wait patiently until some less absolute monarch mounts the throne."

It was not so easy, however, to silence the mouths of the gossips
of Versailles as the Marquis de Pignerolles had hoped. It was true
that Rupert was seldom seen by the side of Adele in the drawing
room of the palace, but it was soon noticed that he called
regularly every morning with the marquis at Madame de Soissons',
and that, however long the visits of the marquis might be, the
young English officer remained until he left.

Adele's English bringing up, and her avowed liking for things
English, were remembered; and the Duc de Carolan, and the other
aspirants to Adele's hand, began to scowl angrily at the young
Englishman whenever they met him.

Upon the other hand, among the ladies Rupert was a general
favourite, but he puzzled them altogether. He was ready to chat, to
pay compliments, to act as chevalier to any lady, but his
compliments never passed beyond the boundary of mere courtly
expression; and in a court where it appeared to be almost the duty
of everyone to be in love, Rupert Holliday did not seem to know
what love meant.

The oddness of this dashing-looking young officer--who was, the
Marquis de Pignerolles assured everyone, a very gallant soldier,
and who had killed in a duel the finest swordsman in the German
army--being perfectly proof to all blandishments, and ready to
treat every woman with equal courtesy and attention, was a mystery
to the ladies of the court of Versailles; and Rupert was regarded
as a most novel and amusing specimen of English coldness and
impenetrability.

Rupert himself was absolutely ignorant of the opinion with which
men and women alike regarded him. He dreamt not that it was only
the character which so high an authority as the Marquis de
Pignerolles had given him as a swordsman of extraordinary skill,
that prevented the Duc de Carolan and some of Adele's other
admirers from forcing a quarrel upon him. Still less did he imagine
that the ladies of the court considered it in the highest degree
singular that he did not fall in love with any of them. He went his
way, laughed, talked, was pleasant with everyone, and enjoyed his
life, especially his morning visits to Madame de Soissons.

The first intimation that was given of the jealousy with which the
Duc de Carolan and others regarded Rupert, was a brief order that
the Marquis de Pignerolles received from the king to retire with
his prisoner to Paris; an intimation being given that although the
marquis would as heretofore be received at court, yet that Rupert
was not to leave the circuit of the walls of Paris. The marquis,
who had foreseen the gathering storm in a hundred petty symptoms,
was not surprised at the order. He knew the jealousy with which the
king regarded any person who appeared even remotely likely to
interfere with any plans that he had formed, and was sure that a
mere hint from some favourite as to the possibility of Rupert's
intimacy at Madame de Soissons proving an obstacle to the carrying
out of his wishes with regard to the disposal of Adele's hand,
would be sufficient to ensure the issue of an order for his instant
dismissal from Versailles. Rupert was astonished and indignant at
the order.

"At any rate I may call and say 'Goodbye' to mademoiselle, may I
not?"

"I think that you had better not, Rupert; but I have simply orders
to leave Versailles at one o'clock today. I can therefore only ask
you to be here at that hour. It is now eleven."

"Very well, sir," Rupert said, "I will be here in time; and as I am
not a prisoner, and can go about where I like, I do not think that
even the king could object to my paying a visit of adieu."

On presenting himself at Madame de Soissons', Rupert heard that, in
accordance with the king's command that morning received, Madame de
Soissons and Mademoiselle de Pignerolles had gone out to the hunt,
one of the royal carriages having come for them.

Rupert, determined not to be baulked, hurried back to the stables
where the horses of the marquis, one of which was always at his
disposal, were kept. In a few minutes he was riding out towards the
forest of Saint Germains, where he learned that the royal chase had
gone.

He rode for some time, until at last he came up with one of the
royal carriages which had got separated from the others. He saw at
once that it contained two of the ladies of the court with whom he
was most intimate. They gave an exclamation of surprise as he
reined up his horse at the window.

"You, Monsieur Holliday! How imprudent! Everyone knows that you are
in disgrace, and exiled to Paris. How foolish of you to come here!"

"I have done nothing to be ashamed of," Rupert said. "Besides, I
was ordered to leave at one o'clock, and it is not one o'clock
yet."

"Oh, we are all angry with you, Monsieur l'Anglais, for you have
been deceiving us all for the last three months. But, now mind, we
bear no malice; but pray ride off."

As she spoke she made a sign to Rupert to alight and come to the
window, so that the coachman might not overhear what was said.

"Do you know," she said, earnestly, "that you are trifling with
your safety; and, if la belle Anglaise loves you, with her
happiness? You have already done more than harm enough. The king
has today, when he joined the hunt, presented to her formally
before all the court the Duc de Carolan as her future husband.
Remember, if you are found here you will not only be sent straight
to some fortress, where you may remain till you are an old man, but
you will do her harm by compromising her still further, in which
case the king might be so enraged, that he might order her to marry
the duke tomorrow."

"You are right. Thank you," Rupert said, quietly; "and I have
indeed, although most unwittingly, done harm. Why you should all
make up your minds I love Mademoiselle de Pignerolles I know not. I
have never thought of the matter myself. I am but just twenty, and
at twenty in England we are still little more than boys. I only
know that I liked her very much, just as I did when she was a
little girl."

"Oh, monsieur, but you are sly, you and l'Anglaise. So it was you
that she owned was her hero; and monsieur the marquis introduced
you as a stranger. Oh, what innocence!

"But there," she went on kindly, "you know your secret is safe with
us. And monsieur," and she leant forward, "although you would not
make love to me, I bear no malice, and will act as your deputy. A
very strict watch is certain to be kept over her. If you want to
write to her, enclose a note to me. Trust me, she shall have it.

"There, do not stop to thank me. I hear horses' hoofs. Gallop away,
please; it would ruin all were you caught here."

Rupert pressed the hands the two ladies held out to him to his
lips, mounted his horse, and rode furiously back to Versailles,
where he arrived just in time to leave again for Paris at the hour
beyond which their stay was not to be delayed.



Chapter 19: The Evasion.

Upon the ride from Versailles to Paris Rupert told the marquis what
he had done and heard.

"It is bad news, Rupert. I will ride back this afternoon, when I
have lodged you in Paris, and see Adele. If she objects--as I know
she will object to this marriage--I shall respectfully protest.
That any good will come of the protest I have no thought, but my
protest may strengthen Adele's refusal, by showing that she has her
father's approval.

"Adele will of course be treated coldly at first, then she will
have pressure put upon her, then be ordered to choose between a
convent and marriage. She will choose a convent. Now in some
convents she could live quietly and happily, in others she would be
persecuted. If she is sent to a convent chosen for her, it will be
worse than a prison. Her life will be made a burden to her until
she consents to obey the king's command. Therefore, my object will
be to secure her retreat to a convent where she will be well
treated and happy. But we will talk of this again."

It was not until the following afternoon that the marquis returned
from Versailles.

"I am off to the front again," he said. "I had an audience with his
Majesty this morning, and respectfully informed him of my
daughter's incurable repugnance to the Duc de Carolan, and of her
desire to remain single until at least she reached the age of
twenty. His Majesty was pleased to say that girls' whims were
matters to which it behoved not to pay any attention. He said,
however, that for the present he would allow it to remain in
abeyance, and that he begged me to see Adele, and to urge upon her
the necessity for making up her mind to accept his Majesty's
choice. He also said that the news from the army was bad, that good
officers were urgently required there, and that it would be
therefore advisable for me to repair at once to the front and again
take the command of my regiment. He said that he wished me to take
you with me as far as Lille, and that you should there take up your
residence."

"Of course I will accompany you, sir," Rupert said; "but I will
withdraw my parole as soon as you hand me over, and take my chance
of escaping."

"Yes, I should do that, Rupert, indeed, as you gave your parole to
me, you can give it back to me now, if you choose. I will run the
risk of some little anger on the part of the king, if you quit me
on your way to Lille and make the best of your way to the
frontier."

"No, I thank you," Rupert said. "There can't be much difficulty in
escaping from a town when one wants to do so; and it would do you
an evil turn indeed to incense the king against you at the present
time."

The next morning, just as they were setting out, a lackey placed a
note in Rupert's hands.

"I hear you are sent off to Lille. I have a cousin there, and have
written to recommend you to his care. I will keep my promise, and
let you know, if needs be, of what is happening to the young person
we spoke of--Diana."

Rupert wrote a few words of earnest thanks, and imitating the
example set him, gave it unaddressed and unsigned to the lackey,
with a handsome present to himself.

On the way to Lille, the marquis told Rupert his plans for the
withdrawal of Adele from court, and her concealment, should Louis
insist on the marriage being pressed on.

Arriving at Lille, Rupert was handed over to the governor, and
having formally withdrawn his parole to make no effort to escape,
he was assigned quarters in barracks, whence he was allowed to go
into the town during daylight; being obliged, however, to attend at
roll call at midday. The fortifications of the town were so strong
and well guarded that it was supposed that the chance of escape was
small.

The following day the Marquis de Pignerolles took an affectionate
leave of Rupert, and went on to join the army; and an hour or two
later Captain Louis d'Etamps, the cousin of whom Diana had written,
called upon him, and placed himself at his service. His cousin had
told him of the supposed crime for which Rupert had been sent away
from court, and felt much sympathy with what she considered his
hard treatment. Not only Louis d'Etamps, but the French officers of
the garrison, showed great kindness and attention to the English
prisoner, for the Duke of Marlborough had treated the French
officers who fell into his hands at Ramilies with such kindness and
courtesy, that the French were glad to have an opportunity of
reciprocating the treatment when the chance fell in their way. Late
in the autumn, the Marquis de Pignerolles was brought back to Lille
seriously wounded in one of the last skirmishes of the campaign.
Rupert spent all the time he was allowed to be out of barracks at
his friend's quarters. The wound was not considered dangerous, but
it would keep the marquis a prisoner to his room for weeks.

A few days after the marquis was brought in, Louis d'Etamps came
into Rupert's room early in the morning.

"I have a note for you from my fair cousin," he said. "It must be
something particular, for she has sent a special messenger with a
letter to me, and on opening it I find only a line asking me to
give you the enclosed instantly."

Rupert opened the latter from Diana d'Etamps; it was as follows:

"Adele has been ordered to marry the Duc de Carolan on the 15th.
Unless she consents, she is on the 14th to be sent to the nunnery
of Saint Marie, the strictest in France, where they will somehow or
other wring consent from her before many weeks are over. They have
done so in scores of cases like hers. I promised to tell you, and I
have done so. But I don't see that anything can be done. I hear
Monsieur le Marquis is badly wounded, but even were he here, he
could do nothing. The king is resolute. The Duc de Carolan has just
given 200,000 crowns towards the expenses of the war."

"May I see?" Louis d'Etamps said, for the young men were now fast
friends.

Rupert handed him the note.

"What can you do, my poor boy?" he said.

"I will go and see the marquis, and let you know afterwards,"
Rupert said. "I shall do something, you may be sure."

"If you do, you will want to escape from Lille. I will see about
the arrangements for that. There is no time to be lost. It is the
10th today."

Rupert's conversation with the Marquis de Pignerolles was long and
interesting. The marquis chafed at being confined to a sick bed and
permitting Rupert to run the risk, which was immense, of the
attempt alone. However, as he could not move, and as Rupert was
determined to do something, the marquis entered into all the plans
he had drawn up, and intended to follow when such an emergency
occurred. He gave him a letter for Adele, and then they parted.

At his room Rupert found Louis.

"Quick," he said, "there is no time to lose. At ten o'clock a
convoy of wounded leave for Paris. The doctor in charge is a friend
of mine and a capital fellow. I have just seen him. All is
arranged. Come along to my quarters, they are on the line that the
convoy goes to the gate. Jump in bed, then I will bandage up your
head with plaisters so that not more than space to see and breathe
out of will be left. When the convoy arrives at the door, he will
have an empty litter ready, will bring up four men who will lift
you in, supposing you to be a wounded French officer, carry you
down, and off you go with the convoy, not a soul save the doctor,
you, and I, the wiser. He has got a pass to leave the city with
forty-eight sick and ten soldiers, and he has only to tell one of
those marked to go that he is not well enough to be moved, and will
go with the next convoy. The messenger who brought the letter has
started again, and has taken with him a led horse of mine. He will
be at the hostelry of Henri the 4th, at the place where you will
stop tonight. He will not know who you are, I have told him that a
friend of mine will call for the horse, which I had promised to
send him.

"When you halt for the night, the doctor will order you to be
carried into his own room. You will find two or three suits of
clothes in the litter, a lackey's suit of our livery which may be
useful, a country gentleman's, and one of mine. When you are alone
with the doctor and all is safe, get up, put on the country
gentleman's suit, say goodbye to him and go straight to the stables
at the Henri the 4th. You are the Sire de Nadar. I have written a
note here, telling you the horse will be there and you are to fetch
it--here it is. The messenger will know my seal."

"I am indeed obliged to you," Rupert said, "you have thought of
everything; but how will the doctor explain my not being
forthcoming in the morning?"

"Oh, he will arrange that easily enough. The soldiers will all
sleep soundly enough after this march; besides, they will not, in
all probability, be near his quarters, so he will only have to say
that he found you were too ill to continue the journey, and had
therefore had you carried to a confrere of his. You must be under
no fear, Rupert, of any evil consequences to anyone, for no one
will ever connect you with the convoy. You will be missed at roll
call, but that will go for nothing. When you are absent again at
six o'clock, you will be reported as missing. Then it will be
supposed that you are hid in the city, and a sharp watch will be
set at the gates; but after a few days it will be supposed that you
have either got over the walls, or that you have gone out disguised
as a peasant. A prisoner of war more or less makes but little
difference, and there will never be any fuss about it."

Soon after dusk on the evening of the 13th of October, Adele de
Pignerolles was sitting alone in a large room in the house of
Madame de Soissons. A wood fire was blazing, and even in that
doubtful light it might have been seen that the girl's eyes were
swollen with crying. She was not crying now, but was looking into
the fire with a set, determined look in her face.

"I don't care," she said; "they may kill me at Saint Marie, but I
will never say yes. Oh, if papa were but here."

At that moment there was a knock at the door, and a bright-looking
waiting maid entered.

"A note, mademoiselle, from Mademoiselle d'Etamps--and
mademoiselle," and she put her finger mysteriously to her lips, "it
is a new lackey has brought it. I told him to come again in ten
minutes for an answer; for I thought it better he should not come
in to be looked at by Francois and Jules."

"Why not, Margot?" Adele asked in great surprise.

"Because, mademoiselle, he seemed to me--I may be wrong, you
know--but he seemed to me very, very like--"

"Like whom, Margot? How mysterious you are."

"Like the English officer," Margot said, with an arch nod.

Adele leapt to her feet.

"You must be mad, Margot. There, light a candle."

But without waiting, Adele knelt down close to the fire, and broke
open the letter.

A flush, even ruddier than that given by the fire, mounted over her
face.

"It is him, Margot. He has come from my father. Now we are to do
what I told you about. We are to go off tonight under his charge,
to your mother's, my dear old nurse, and there I am to live with
you, and be as your cousin, till papa can get me out of the
country."

"And is the young officer to live there till the marquis comes?"
Margot asked, slyly. "He might pass as another cousin, mademoiselle."

"How foolish you are, Margot, and this is no time for folly. But
listen. My father says, 'Rupert will be in the street round the
corner, with three horses, at eleven o'clock. You and Margot are to
be dressed in the boys' clothes that I bade you prepare. Take in
bundles two of Margot's dresses. Do not be afraid to trust yourself
with Rupert Holliday. Regard him as a brother; he has all my
confidence and trust.'"

"We must remember that," Margot said.

"Remember what, Margot?"

"Only that you are to regard him as a brother, mademoiselle."

"Margot, Margot, I am surprised at you, joking like a child when we
have a terrible business before us. But indeed I feel so happy at
the thought of escape from that terrible convent, that I could joke
like a child also."

"You had better write a line for him, mademoiselle. It was from
chance that I happened to be in the hall when he rang; and we don't
want him to come in to be stared at by Francois while you write an
answer."

Quickly Adele sat down at a table, and wrote:

"At the hour and place named, expect us--Yours, trustfully, Adele."

As the clock struck eleven two slight figures stole noiselessly out
of the garden gate of Madame de Soissons' house at Versailles. The
town was hushed in sleep, and not a sound was moving in the street.
They carried bundles with them, and walked with rapid steps to a
small lane which led off the street by the side of the garden wall.
It was quite dark, and they could see nothing, but a voice said:

"Adele!"

"Rupert!" one of the figures answered, in shy, trembling tones.

"Please stay where you are," Rupert said. "It is lighter in the
street."

The horses were led forth noiselessly, for Rupert had fastened
cloths round their feet, to prevent the iron shoes sounding on the
round pebbles which paved the streets.

Not a word was said. There was a warm clasp of the hand, and Rupert
lifted Adele into the saddle. Margot climbed into another, and the
three rode rapidly down the streets. Not a word was spoken until
they were in the open country.

"Thank God, you are safe thus far, Adele. The last time I helped
you on to a horse was the day you went out to see my hawk kill a
heron."

"Oh, Rupert," the girl said, "it seems like a dream. But please do
not let us talk yet about ourselves. Tell me about Papa. How is
he?"

Rupert told her; and gradually as they talked the excitement and
agitation passed off.

"And where did you get the horses, Rupert?"

"The one I am riding is Louis d'Etamps'," he said, "the others are
your father's. I brought orders from him to his steward in Paris,
that two of his best horses were to be sent this morning to a
stable in Versailles, and left there, and that a person with an
order from him would call for them."

"I cannot see you in the least. Are you dressed as Monsieur
d'Etamps' lackey still?"

"No, I am now a quiet country gentleman, riding down from Paris
with my two sons, who have been up with me to see their aunt who
lives in the Rue du Tempe."

"Talk French, please, Rupert. Margot will understand then; and she
is so brave and good, and shares my danger, so she ought to be as
one of us."

Adele's spirits rose as they got farther from Versailles, and they
talked and laughed cheerfully, but in low tones.

Three miles from Versailles, as they rode past a crossroad, two
mounted men dashed out suddenly.

"Stand, in the king's name! Who are you?"

"We are travellers," Rupert said, quietly, "and go where we will.
Who are you?"

"We are guards of the court, and we must know who you are before we
suffer you to pass. None ride at night near Versailles but with a
pass."

"I am an exception then," Rupert said, "and I advise you not to
interfere with us;" and he urged his horse a few feet in advance of
his companions.

One of the horsemen seized his bridle, while another drew a pistol.

Rupert's sword leaped from its scabbard and cut down the man who
held the rein. The other fired, but Rupert threw himself forward on
the horse's neck and the bullet whizzed over his head. He rode at
the garde, and with a heavy blow with the pommel of the sword
struck him senseless from his horse.

"Now," he said to Adele, "we can ride on again. You are not
frightened, I hope?"

"Not so frightened as I was the first time you drew sword in my
behalf," the girl said; "but it is very dreadful. Are they killed,
Rupert?"

"Not a bit of it," Rupert said; "one has got a gash on the head
which will cost him a crown in plaister, the other may have lost
some teeth. It would have been wise to have killed them, for their
tale in the morning is likely to be regarded as throwing some light
upon your disappearance; but I could not kill men who were only
doing their duty. At any rate we have twelve hours' start, even if
they take up the clue and pursue us on this line tomorrow.

"It is about ten miles this side of Poitiers that your mother
lives, is it not, Margot?"

"Yes, Monsieur Rupert. How surprised she will be at my arrival with
my cousins."

"Oh, we are both your cousins, are we, Margot?"

"Mademoiselle Adele is to pass as my cousin, monsieur, and I
suppose you must be either another cousin, or else her brother."

"Margot," Adele said, "you chatter too much."

"Do I, mademoiselle? It is better than riding through the darkness
without speaking. I was very glad when the cloths were off the
horses' feet, for we seemed like a party of ghosts."

"How long shall we be getting there?" Adele asked, presently.

"Six days, if we do it all with the same horses," Rupert said; "and
I am afraid to hire horses and leave them on the way, as it would
look as if we were pressed for time. No, for today we are safe--but
for today only. Messengers will be sent in all directions with
orders for our arrest. They will take fresh relays of horses; and
really our only hope is in disguise. I propose that we go the first
stage without halting as far as our horses will carry us. I think
we can get to Orleans. There we will put them up, and take rooms.
Then Margot must slip out in her own dress and buy two peasant
girls' attire, and I will pick up at some dealer in old clothes a
suit which will enable me to pass as a wounded soldier making his
way home. Then we will strike off from the main road and follow the
lanes and get on some other road. They will inquire all along the
road and will hear of a gentleman and two youths, and will for a
while have that in their minds. No one will particularly notice us,
and we shall get into Tours safely enough.

"We must never enter a house or town together, for they will be on
the lookout for three people, and neither a soldier with his head
bound up, nor two peasant girls, will attract attention. At Tours I
will get a farmer's dress, and will buy a horse and cart, and a
load of hay, and will pick you up outside the town. You can get on
the hay, and can cover yourselves over if you see any horsemen in
pursuit. After that it will be all easy work."

"Why could you not get the cart at Orleans, Rupert?" Adele asked.

"I might," he said; "but I think that the extra change would be
best, as they would then have no clue whatever to follow. They will
trace us to Orleans, and you may be sure that there will be a hot
hue and cry, and it may be that the fact of a horse and cart having
been sold would come out. They will not know whether we have made
east, west, or south from there, so there will be a far less active
search at Tours than there will at Orleans."

So the journey was carried out, and without any serious adventure;
although with a great many slight alarms, and some narrow escapes
of detection, which cannot be here detailed. The party arrived at
the spot where the lane leading to the little farm occupied by
Margot's mother left the main road. Here they parted, the girls
taking their bundles, and starting to trudge the last few miles on
foot.

Margot discreetly went on a little ahead, to give her mistress the
opportunity of speaking to Rupert alone, but she need not have done
so, for all that Rupert said was:

"I have been in the light of your brother this time, Adele, as your
father gave you into my charge. If I ever come again, dear, it will
be different."

"You are very good, Rupert. Goodbye;" and with a wave of the hand
she ran after Margot; while Rupert, mounting the cart, drove on
into Poitiers.

Here he sold his load of hay to a stable keeper, drove a mile or
two out of the town, entered a wood, and then took the horse out of
the cart, and leaving the latter in a spot where, according to all
appearances, it was not likely to be seen for months, drove the
horse still further into the wood, and, placing a pistol to its
head, shot it dead. Then he renewed his disguise as a soldier, but
this time dispensed with the greater part of his bandages, and set
out on his return, in high spirits at having so successfully
performed his journey.

He pursued his journey as far back as Blois without the slightest
interruption, but here his tramp came to a sudden termination.
Secure in the excellence of his French, Rupert had attempted no
disguise as to his face beyond such as was given by a strip of
plaister, running from the upper lip to the temple. He strode gaily
along, sometimes walking alone, sometimes joining some other
wayfarer, telling every one that he was from Bordeaux, where he had
been to see his parents, and get cured of a sabre cut.

As he passed through the town of Blois, Rupert suddenly came upon a
group of horsemen. Saluting as he passed--for in those days in
France no one of inferior rank passed one of the upper classes
without uncovering--he went steadily on.

"That is a proper looking fellow," one of the party said, looking
after him.

"By our Lady," exclaimed another, "I believe I have seen that head
and shoulders before. Yes, I feel sure.

"Gentlemen, we have made a prize. Unless I am greatly mistaken,
this is the villainous Englishman who it is believed aided that
malapert young lady to escape."

In another moment Rupert was surrounded. His hat was knocked off;
and the Duc de Carolan, for it was he, exclaimed in delight:

"I thought that I could not be mistaken. It is himself."

Rupert attempted no resistance, for alone and on foot it would have
been hopeless.

The governor of the royal castle of Blois was one of the party, and
Rupert found himself in another ten minutes standing, with guards
on each side of him, before a table in the governor's room, with
the governor and the Duc de Carolan sitting as judges before him.

"I have nothing to say," Rupert said, quietly. "I escaped from
Lille because I had been, as I deemed it, unworthily treated in
Paris. I had withdrawn my parole, and was therefore free to escape
if I could. I did escape, but finding the frontier swarmed with
French troops, I thought it safer to make for central France, where
a wayfarer would not be looked upon as suspiciously as in the
north. Here I am. I decline to answer any further questions.

"As to the lady of whom you question me, I rejoice to find, by the
drift of your questions, that she has withdrawn herself from the
persecution which she suffered, and has escaped being forced into
marriage with a man she once described in my hearing as an ape in
the costume of the day."

"And that is all you will say, prisoner?" the governor asked, while
the Duc de Carolan gave an exclamation of fury.

"That is all, sir; and I would urge, that as an English officer I
am entitled to fair and honourable treatment; for although I might
have been shot in the act of trying to escape from prison, it is
the rule that an escaping prisoner caught afterwards, as I am,
should have fair treatment, although his imprisonment should be
stricter and more secure than before.

"As to the other matter, there cannot be, I am assured, even a
tittle of evidence to connect me with the event you mention. As far
as I hear from you, I escaped on the 10th from Lille, which date is
indeed accurate. Three days later Mademoiselle de Pignerolles left
Versailles. The connection between the two events does not appear
in any way clear to me."

"It may or it may not be," the governor said. "However, my duty is
clear, to keep you here in safe ward until I receive his Majesty's
orders."

Four days later the royal order came. Rupert was to be taken to the
dreaded fortress prison of Loches, a place from which not one in a
hundred of those who entered in ever came from alive.



Chapter 20: Loches.

"A British officer; broke out from Lille. Ah!" the Governor of
Loches said to himself, as he glanced over the royal order.
"Something else beyond that, I fancy. Prisoners of war who try to
break prison are not sent to Loches. I suppose he has been in
somebody's way very seriously. A fine young fellow, too--a really
splendid fellow. A pity really; however, it is not my business.

"Number four, in the south tower," he said, and Rupert was led
away.

Number four was a cell on the third story of the south tower. More
than that Rupert did not know. There was no looking out from the
loopholes that admitted light, for they were boarded up on the
outside. There was a fireplace, a table, a chair, and a bedstead.
Twice a day a gaoler entered with provisions; he made no reply to
Rupert's questions, but shook his head when spoken to.

For the first week Rupert bore his imprisonment with cheerfulness,
but the absolute silence, the absence of anything to break the
dreary monotony, the probability that he might remain a prisoner
all his life, was crushing even to the most active and energetic
temperament.

At the end of a month the gaoler made a motion for him to follow
him. Ascending the stairs to a great height, they reached the
platform on the top of the tower.

Rupert was delighted with the sight of the sky, and of the
wide-spreading fields--even though the latter was covered with
snow. For a half-an-hour he paced rapidly round and round the
limited walk. Presently the gaoler touched him, and pointing below,
said:

"Look!"

Rupert looked over the battlement, and saw a little party issue
from a small postern gate far below him, cross the broad fosse, and
pause in an open space formed by an outlying work beyond. They bore
with them a box.

"A funeral?" Rupert asked.

The man nodded.

"They all go out at last," he said, "but unless they tell what they
are wanted to tell, they go no other way."

Five minutes later Rupert was again locked up in his cell, when he
was, in the afternoon of the same day, visited by the governor, who
asked if he would say where he had taken Mademoiselle Pignerolles.

"You may as well answer," he said. "You will never go out alive
unless you do."

Rupert shook his head.

"I do not admit that I know aught concerning the lady you name; but
did I so, I should prefer death to betraying her."

"Ay," the governor said, "you might do that; but death is very
preferable to life at Loches."

In a day or two Rupert found himself again desponding.

"This will not do," he said earnestly. "I must arouse myself. Let
me think, what have I heard that prisoners do? In the first place
they try to escape; and some have escaped from places as difficult
as Loches. Well, that is one thing to be thought very seriously
about. In the next place, I have heard of their making pets of
spiders and all sorts of things. Well, I may come to that, but at
present I don't like spiders well enough to make pets of them;
besides I don't see any spiders to make pets of. Then some
prisoners have carved walls, but I have no taste for carving.

"I might keep my muscles in order and my health good by exercise
with the chair and table; get to hold them out at arm's length,
lift the table with one hand, and so on. Yes, all sorts of exercise
might be continued in that way, and the more I take exercise the
better I shall sleep at night and enjoy my meals. Yes, with nothing
else to do I might become almost a Samson here.

"There, now my whole time is marked out--escape from prison, and
exercise. I'll try the last first, and then think over the other."

For a long time Rupert worked away with his furniture until he had
quite exhausted himself; then feeling happier and better than he
had done since he was shut up, he began to think of plans of
escape. The easiest way would of course be to knock down and gag
the gaoler, and to escape in the clothes; but this plan he put
aside at once, as it was morally certain that he should be no
nearer to his escape after reaching the courtyard of the prison,
than he was in the cell. There remained then the chimney, the
loophole, and the solid wall.

The chimney was the first to disappear from the calculation.
Looking up it, Rupert saw that it was crossed by a dozen iron bars,
the height too was very great, and even when at the top the height
was immense to descend to the fosse.

The loophole was next examined. It was far too narrow to squeeze
through, and was crossed by three sets of bars. The chance of
widening the narrow loophole and removing the bars without
detection was extreme; besides, Rupert had a strong idea that the
loophole looked into the courtyard.

Finally he came to the conclusion, that if an escape was to be made
it must be by raising a flag of the floor, tunnelling between his
room and that underneath it, and working out through the solid
wall. It would be a tremendous work, for the loophole showed him
that the wall must be ten feet thick; still, as he said to himself,
it will be at least something to do and to think about, and even if
it takes five years and comes to nothing, it will have been useful.

Thus resolved, Rupert went to work, and laboured steadily. His
exercise with the chair and table succeeded admirably, and after
six months he was able to perform feats of strength with them that
surprised himself. With his scheme for escape he was less
fortunate. Either his tools were faulty, or the stones he had to
work upon were too compact and well built, but beyond getting up
the flag, making a hole below it in the hard cement which filled in
the space between the floor, large enough to bury a good sized cat,
Rupert achieved nothing.

He had gone into prison in November, it was now August, and he was
fast coming to the idea that Loches was not to be broken out of by
the way in which he was attempting to do it.

One circumstance gave him intense delight. Adele's hiding place had
not been discovered. This he was sure of by the urgency with which
the governor strove to extract from him the secret of her
whereabouts. Their demands were at the last meeting mingled with
threats, and Rupert felt that the governor had received stringent
orders to wring the truth from him. So serious did these menaces
become that Rupert ceased to labour at the floor of his cell, being
assured that ere long some change or other would take place. He was
not mistaken. One day the governor entered, attended, as usual, by
the gaoler and another official.

"Sir," he said to Rupert, "we can no longer be trifled with. I have
orders to obtain from you the name of the place to which you
escorted the young lady you went off with. If you refuse to answer
me, a different system to that which has hitherto been pursued will
be adopted. You will be removed from this comfortable room and
placed in the dungeons. Once there, you must either speak or die,
for few men are robust enough to exist there for many weeks.

"I am sorry, sir, but I have my duty to do. Will you speak, or will
you change your room?"

"I will change my room," Rupert said, quietly. "I may die; but if
by any chance I should ever see the light again, be assured that
all Europe shall know how officers taken in war are treated by the
King of France."

The governor shrugged his shoulders, made a sign to the gaoler, who
opened the door, and as the governor left four other warders
entered the room. Rupert smiled, he knew that this display of force
was occasioned by the fact that his gaoler, entering his room
suddenly, had several times caught him balancing the weighty table
on his arm or performing other feats which had astounded the
Frenchman. The work at the cell wall had always been done at night.

"I am ready to accompany you," Rupert said, and without another
word followed his conductor downstairs.

Arrived at a level with the yard, another door was unlocked, and
the party descended down some stairs, where the cold dampness of
the air struck a chill to Rupert's heart. Down some forty feet, and
then a door was unlocked, and Rupert saw his new abode. It was of
about the same size as the last, but was altogether without
furniture. In one corner, as he saw by the light of a lantern which
the gaoler carried, was a stone bench on which was a bundle of
straw. The walls streamed with moisture, and in some places the
water stood in shallow pools on the floor; the dungeon was some
twelve feet high; eight feet from the ground was a narrow loophole,
eighteen inches in height and about three inches wide. The gaoler
placed a pitcher of water and a piece of bread on the bench, and
then without a word the party left.

Rupert sat quiet on the bench for an hour or two before his eyes
became sufficiently accustomed to the darkness to see anything, for
but the feeblest ray of light made its way through so small a
loophole in a wall of such immense thickness.

"The governor was right," he muttered to himself. "A month or two
of this place would kill a dog."

It was not until the next day that the gaoler made his appearance.
He was not the same who had hitherto attended him, but a
powerful-looking ruffian who was evidently under no orders as to
silence such as those which had governed the conduct of the other.

"Well," he began, "and how does your worship like your new palace?"

"It is hardly cheerful," Rupert said; "but I do not know that
palaces are ever particularly cheerful."

"You are a fine fellow," the gaoler said, looking at Rupert by the
light of his lantern. "I noted you yesterday as you came down, and
I thought it a pity then that you would not say what they wanted
you to. I don't know what it is, and don't want to; but when a
prisoner comes down here, it is always because they want to get
something out of him, or they want to finish with him for good and
all. You see you are below the level of the moat here. The water
comes at ordinary times to within six inches of that slit up there.
And in wet weather it happens sometimes that the stream which feeds
the moat swells, and if it has been forgotten to open the sluice
gates of the moat, it will rise ten feet before morning. I once
knew a prisoner drowned in the cell above this."

"Well," Rupert said, calmly. "After all one may as well be drowned
as die by inches. I don't owe you any ill will, but I should be
almost glad if I did, for then I should dash your brains out
against the wall, and fight till they had to bring soldiers down to
kill me."

The man gave a surly growl.

"I have my knife," he said.

"Just so," Rupert answered; "and it may be, although I do not think
it likely, that you might kill me before I knocked your brains out;
but that would be just what I should like. I repeat, it is only
because I have no ill will towards you that I don't at once begin a
struggle which would end in my death one way or another."

The gaoler said no more; but it was clear that Rupert's words had
in no slight degree impressed him, for he was on all his future
visits as civil as it was within his nature to be.

"Whenever you wish to see the governor, he will come to you." he
said to Rupert one day.

"If the governor does not come till I send for him," Rupert
answered, "he will never come."

Even in this dungeon, where escape seemed hopeless, Rupert
determined to do his best to keep life and strength together.
Nothing but the death of the king seemed likely to bring relief,
and that event might be many years distant. When it took place, his
old friend would, he was sure, endeavour in every way to find out
where he was confined, and to obtain his release. At any rate he
determined to live as long as he could; and he kept up his spirits
by singing scraps of old songs, and his strength by such gymnastic
exercises as he could carry out without the aid of any movable
article. At first he struck out his arms as if fighting, so many
hundred of times; then he took to walking on his hands; and at last
he loosened one of the stones which formed the top of the bed, and
invented all sorts of exercises with it.

"What is the day and month?" he said one day to his gaoler.

"It is the 15th of October."

"It is very dark," Rupert said, "darker than usual."

"It is raining," the jailer said; "raining tremendously."

Late that night Rupert was awoke by the splashing of water. He
leaped to his feet. The cell was already a foot deep in water.

"Ha!" he exclaimed, "it is one thing or the other now."

Rupert had been hoping for a flood; it might bring death, but he
thought that it was possible that it might bring deliverance.

The top of the loophole was some two and a half feet from the
vaulted roof; the top of the door was about on the same level, or
some six inches lower. The roof arched some three feet above the
point whence it sprang.

Rupert had thought it all over, and concluded that it was possible,
nay almost certain, that even should the water outside rise ten
feet above the level of his roof, sufficient air would be pent up
there to prevent the water from rising inside, and to supply him
with sufficient to breathe for many hours. He was more afraid of
the effects of cold than of being drowned. He felt that in a flood
in October the water was likely to be fairly warm, and he
congratulated himself that it was now, instead of in December, that
he should have to pass through the ordeal.

Before commencing the struggle, he kneeled for some time in prayer
on his bed, and then, with a firm heart, rose to his feet and
awaited the rising of the water. This was rapid indeed. It was
already two feet over his bed, and minute by minute it rose higher.

When it reached his chin, which it did in less than a quarter of an
hour from the time when he had first awoke, he swam across to the
loophole, which was now but a few inches above the water, and
through which a stream of water still poured. Impossible as it was
for any human being to get through the narrow slit, an iron bar had
been placed across it. Of this Rupert took hold, and remained
quiescent as the water mounted higher and higher; presently it rose
above the top of the loophole, and Rupert now watched anxiously how
fast it ran. Floating on his back, and keeping a finger at the
water level against the wall, he could feel that the water still
rose. It seemed to him that the rise was slower and slower, and at
last his finger remained against a point in the stones for some
minutes without moving. The rise of the water inside the dungeon
had ceased.

That it continued outside he guessed by a slight but distinct
feeling of pressure in the air, showing that the column of water
outside was compressing it. He had no fear of any bad consequences
from this source, as even a height of twelve feet of water outside
would not give any unbearable pressure. He was more afraid that he
himself would exhaust the air, but he believed that there would be
sufficient; and as he knew that the less he exerted himself the
less air he required, he floated quietly on his back, with his feet
resting on the bar across the loophole, now two feet under water.

He scarcely felt the water cold. The rain had come from a warm
quarter; and the temperature of the water was actually higher than
that of the cold and humid dungeon.

Hour after hour passed. The night appeared interminable. From time
to time Rupert dived so as to look through the loophole, and at
last was rewarded by seeing a faint dull light. Day was beginning;
and Rupert had no doubt that with early morning the sluices would
be opened, and the moat entirely cleared of water.

He had, when talking with his gaoler one day, asked him how they
got rid of the water in the dungeon after a flood, and the man said
that there were pipes from the floor of each dungeon into the moat.
At ordinary times these pipes were closed by wooden plugs, as the
water outside was far above the floor; but that after a flood the
water was entirely let out of the moat, and the plugs removed from
the pipes, which thus emptied the dungeons.

From the way in which the fellow described the various
arrangements, Rupert had little doubt that the sluice gates were at
times purposely left closed, in order to clear off troublesome
prisoners who might otherwise have remained a care and expense to
the state for years to come.

Long as the night had seemed, it seemed even longer before Rupert
felt that the water was sinking. He knew that after the upper
sluice had opened the fosse might take some time to fall to the
level of the water inside the dungeon, and that until it did the
water inside would remain stationary.

He passed the hours by changing his position as much as possible;
sometimes he swam round and round, at other times he trod water,
then he would float quietly, then cling to the bar of the loophole.

The descent of the water came upon him at last as a surprise. He
was swimming round and round, and had not for some time touched the
wall, when suddenly a ray of light flashed in his face. He gave a
cry of joy. The water had fallen below the top of the loophole, and
swimming up to it, he could see across the fosse, and watch the
sunlight sparkling on the water. It was two months since he had
seen the light, and the feeling of joy overpowered him more than
the danger he had faced.

Rapidly the water fell, until it was level with the bottom of the
loophole. Then hours passed away; for the fosse would have to be
emptied before the drain leading from the dungeon could be opened.
However, Rupert hardly felt the time long. With his hands on the
bar and in the loophole, he remained gazing out at the sunlight.

The water in the fosse sank and sank, until he could no longer see
it; but he could see the sun glistening on the wet grass of the
bank, and he was satisfied. At last he was conscious of a strain on
his arm, and withdrawing his gaze from without, he saw that the
water had fallen six inches.

It now sank rapidly; and in an hour he could stand with his head
above it. Then he was able to sit down on his bed; but when the
water sank to a depth of two feet, he again lay on his back and
floated. He knew that a thick deposit of mud would be left, and
that it was essential for his plan that he should drift to the exit
hole of the water, and there be found, with the mud and slime
undisturbed by footsteps or movement. Another ten minutes, and he
lay on his back on the ground in a corner of the dungeon to which
the water had floated him, having taken care towards the end to
sink his head so that his hair floated partly over it, and as the
water drained off remained so. He guessed it to be about midday,
and he expected to be left undisturbed until night.

After a time he slept, and when he awoke it was dark, and soon
after he heard steps coming down the stairs. Now was the moment of
trial. Presently the door opened and four of the gaolers came in.
They bore between them a stretcher.

"This is the fifth," one said, and he recognized the voice of his
own attendant. "It is a pity, he was a fine fellow. Well, there's
one more, and then the job's done."

He bent over Rupert, who ceased breathing.

"He's the only one with his eyes closed," he said. "I expect
there's someone would break her heart if she knew he was lying
here. Well, lift him up, mates."

The two months' imprisonment in the dungeon had done one good
service for Rupert. The absence of light had blanched his face, and
even had he been dead he could hardly have looked more white than
he did. The long hours in the water had made his hands deadly cold,
and the hair matted on his face added to the deathlike aspect.

"Put the stretcher on the ground, and roll him over on to it," one
of the men said. "I don't mind a dead man, but these are so clammy
and slimy that they are horrible to touch. There, stand between him
and the wall, put a foot under him, roll him over. There, nothing
could be better! Now then, off we go with him. The weight's more
than twice as much as the others."

Rupert lay with his face down on the stretcher, and felt himself
carried upstairs, then along several long passages, then through a
door, and felt the fresh evening air. Now by the sound he knew that
he was being carried over the bridge across the moat to the burying
ground. Then the stretcher was laid down.

"Now then, roll him over into the hole," one said, "and let us go
back for the last. Peste! I am sick of this job, and shall need a
bottle of eau de vie to put me straight again."

One side of the stretcher was lifted, and Rupert was rolled over.
The fall was not deep, some three or four feet only, and he fell on
a soft mass, whose nature he could well guess at. A minute later he
heard the retreating footsteps of his gaolers, and leaping from the
grave, stood a free man by its side.

He knew that he was not only free, but safe from any active
pursuit, for he felt sure that the gaolers, when they returned with
their last load, would throw it in and fill up the grave, and that
no suspicion that it contained one short of the number would arise.

This in itself was an immense advantage to him, for on the escape
of a prisoner from Loches--an event which had happened but once or
twice in its records--a gun was fired and the whole country turned
out in pursuit of the prisoner.

Rupert paused for two minutes before commencing his flight, and
kneeling down, thanked God for his escape. Then he climbed the low
ramparts, dropped beyond them, and struck across country. The
exercise soon sent the blood dancing through his hands again, and
by the morning he was thirty-five miles from Loches.

He had stopped once, a mile or two after starting, when he came to
a stream. Into this he had waded, and had washed the muck stains
from his clothes, hair, and face.

With the morning dawn his clothes were dry, and he presented to the
eye an aspect similar to that which he wore when captured at Blois
nearly a year before, of a dilapidated and broken-down soldier, for
he had retained in prison the clothes he wore when captured; but
they had become infinitely more dingy from the wear and tear of
prison, and the soaking had destroyed all vestige of colour.

Presently he came to a mill by a stream.

"Hallo!" the miller said cheerily, from his door. "You seem to have
been in the wars, friend."

"I have in my way," Rupert said. "I was wounded in Flanders. I have
been home to Bordeaux, and got cured again. I started for the army
again, and some tramps who slept in the same room with me robbed me
of my last shilling. To complete my disaster, last night, not
having money to pay for a bed, I tramped on, fell into a stream,
and was nearly drowned."

"Come in," said the miller. "Wife, here is a poor fellow out of
luck. Give him a bowl of hot milk, and some bread."



Chapter 21: Back in Harness.

"You must have had a bad time of it." the miller said, as he
watched Rupert eating his breakfast. "I don't know that I ever saw
anyone so white as you are, and yet you look strong, too."

"I am strong," Rupert said, "but I had an attack, and all my colour
went. It will come back again soon, but I am only just out. You
don't want a man, do you? I am strong and willing. I don't want to
beg my way to the army, and I am ashamed of my clothes. There will
be no fighting till the spring. I don't want high pay, just my food
and enough to get me a suit of rough clothes, and to keep me in
bread and cheese as I go back."

"From what part of France do you come?" the miller asked. "You
don't speak French as people do hereabouts."

"I come from Brittany," Rupert said; "but I learnt to speak the
Paris dialect there, and have almost forgotten my own, I have been
so long away."

"Well, I will speak to my wife," the miller said. "Our last hand
went away three months since, and all the able-bodied men have been
sent to the army. So I can do with you if my wife likes you."

The miller's wife again came and inspected the wanderer, and
declared that if he were not so white he would be well enough, but
that such a colour did not seem natural.

Rupert answered her that it would soon go, and offered that if, at
the end of a week, he did not begin to show signs of colour coming,
he would give up the job.

The bargain was sealed. The miller supplied him with a pair of
canvas trousers and a blouse. Rupert cut off his long hair, and set
to work as the miller's man.

In a week the miller's wife, as well as the miller himself, was
delighted with him. His great strength, his willingness and
cheeriness kept, as they said, the place alive, and the pallor of
his face had so far worn off by the end of the week that the
miller's wife was satisfied that he would, as he said, soon look
like a human being, and not like a walking corpse.

The winter passed off quietly, and Rupert stood higher and higher
in the liking of the worthy couple with whom he lived; the climax
being reached when, in midwinter, a party of marauders--for at that
time the wars of France and the distress of the people had filled
the country with bands of men who set the laws at defiance--five in
number, came to the mill and demanded money.

The miller, who was not of a warlike disposition, would have given
up all the earnings which he had stored away, but Rupert took down
an old sword which hung over the fireplace; and sallying out, ran
through the chief of the party, desperately wounded two others, and
by sheer strength tossed the others into the mill stream, standing
over them when they scrambled out, and forcing them to dig a grave
and bury their dead captain and to carry off their wounded
comrades.

Thus when the spring came, and Rupert said that he must be going,
the regrets of the miller and his wife were deep, and by offer of
higher pay they tried to get him to stay. Rupert however was, of
course, unable to accede to their request, and was glad when they
received a letter from a son in the army, saying that he had been
laid up with fever, and had got his discharge, and was just
starting to settle with them at the mill.

Saying goodbye to his kind employers, Rupert started with a stout
suit of clothes, fifty francs in his pocket, and a document signed
by the Maire of the parish to the effect that Antoine Duprat,
miller's man, had been working through the winter at Evres, and was
now on his way to join his regiment with the army of Flanders.

Determined to run no more risks if he could avoid it, he took a
line which would avoid Paris and all other towns at which he had
ever shown himself. Sometimes he tramped alone, more often with
other soldiers who had been during the winter on leave to recover
from the effects of wounds or of fevers. From their talk Rupert
learned with satisfaction that the campaign which he had missed had
been very uneventful, and that no great battles had taken place. It
was expected that the struggle that would begin in a few weeks
would be a desperate one, both sides having made great efforts to
place a predominating force in the field.

As he had no idea of putting on the French uniform even for a day,
Rupert resolved as he approached the army frontier to abandon his
story that he was a soldier going to take his place in the ranks.

When he reached Amiens he found the streets encumbered with baggage
waggons taking up provisions and stores to the army. The drivers
had all been pressed into the service. Going into a cabaret, he
heard some young fellow lamenting bitterly that he had been dragged
away from home when he was in three weeks to have been married.
Waiting until he left, Rupert followed him, and told him that he
had heard what he had said and was ready to go as his substitute,
if he liked. For a minute or two the poor fellow could hardly
believe his good fortune; but when he found that he was in earnest
he was delighted, and hurried off to the contractor in charge of
the train--Rupert stopping with him by the way to buy a blouse, in
which he looked more fitted for the post.

The contractor, seeing that Rupert was a far more powerful and
useful-looking man than the driver whose place he offered to take,
made no difficulty whatever; and in five minutes Rupert, with a
metal plate with his number hung round his neck, was walking by the
side of a heavily-loaded team, while their late driver, with his
papers of discharge in his pocket, had started for home almost wild
with delight.

For a month Rupert worked backwards and forwards, between the posts
and the depots. As yet the allies had not taken the field, and he
knew that he should have no chance of crossing a wide belt of
country patrolled in every direction by the French cavalry. At the
end of that time the infantry moved out from their quarters and
took the field, and the allied army advanced towards them. The
French army, under Vendome, numbered 100,000 men, while
Marlborough, owing to the intrigues of his enemies at home, and the
dissensions of the allies, was able to bring only 70,000 into the
field.

The French had correspondents in most of the towns in Flanders,
where the rapacity of the Dutch had exasperated the people against
their new masters, and made them long for the return of the French.

A plot was on foot to deliver Antwerp to the French, and Vendome
moved forward to take advantage of it; but Marlborough took post at
Halle, and Vendome halted his army at Soignies, three leagues
distant. Considerable portions of each force moved much closer to
each other, and lay watching each other across a valley but a mile
wide.

Rupert happened to be with the waggons taking ammunition up to the
artillery in an advanced position, and determined, if possible, to
seize the opportunity of rejoining his countrymen. A lane running
between two high hedges led from the foot of the hill where he was
standing, directly across the valley, and Rupert slipping away
unnoticed, made the best of his way down the lane. When nearly half
across the valley, the hedges ceased, and Rupert issued out into
open fields.

Hitherto, knowing that he had not been noticed, he had husbanded
his breath, and had only walked quickly, but as he came into the
open he started at a run. He was already nearly half way between
the armies, and reckoned that before any of the French cavalry
could overtake him he would be within reach of succour by his
friends.

A loud shout from behind him showed that he was seen, and looking
round he saw that a French general officer, accompanied by another
officer and a dragoon, were out in front of their lines
reconnoitring the British position. They, seeing the fugitive, set
spurs to their horses to cut him off. Rupert ran at the top of his
speed, and could hear a roar of encouragement from the troops in
front. He was assured that there was no cavalry at this part of the
lines, and that he must be overtaken long before he could get
within the very short distance that then constituted musket range.

Finding that escape was out of the question, he slackened his
speed, so as to leave himself breath for the conflict. He was armed
only with a heavy stick. The younger officer, better mounted, and
anxious to distinguish himself on so conspicuous an occasion, was
the first to arrive.

Rupert faced round. His cap had fallen off, and grasping the small
end of the stick, he poised himself for the attack.

The French officer drew rein with a sudden cry,

"You!" he exclaimed, "you! What, still alive?"

"Yet no thanks to you, Monsieur le Duc," Rupert said, bitterly.
"Even Loches could not hold me."

His companions were now close at hand, and with a cry of fury the
duke rode at Rupert. The latter gave the horse's nose a sharp blow
as the duke's sweeping blow descended. The animal reared suddenly,
disconcerting the aim, and before its feet touched the ground the
heavy knob of Rupert's stick, driven with the whole strength of his
arm, struck the duke on the forehead.

At the same instant as the duke fell, a lifeless mass, over the
crupper, Rupert leaped to the other side of the horse, placing the
animal between him and the other assailants as they swept down upon
him. Before they could check their horses he vaulted into the
saddle, and with an adroit wheel avoided the rush of the dragoon.

The shouts of the armies, spectators of the singular combat, were
now loud, and the two Frenchmen attacked Rupert furiously, one on
each side. With no weapon but a stick, Rupert felt such a conflict
to be hopeless, and with a spring as sudden as that with which he
had mounted he leapt to the ground, as the general on one side and
the dragoon on the other cut at him at the same moment.

The spring took him close to the horse of the latter, and before
the amazed soldier could again strike, Rupert had vaulted on to the
horse, behind him. Then using his immense strength--a strength
brought to perfection by his exercise at Loches, and his work in
lifting sacks as a miller's man--he seized with both hands the
French soldier by the belt, lifted him from the seat, and threw him
backwards over his head, the man flying through the air some yards
before he fell on the ground with a heavy crash. Driving his heels
into the horse, he rode him straight at the French general, as the
latter--who had dashed forward as Rupert unseated the trooper--came
at him. Rupert received a severe cut on the left shoulder, but the
impetus of the heavier horse and rider rolled the French officer
and his horse on to the ground. Rupert shifted his seat into the
saddle, leapt the fallen horse, and stooping down seized the
officer by his waist belt, lifted him from the ground as if he had
been a child, threw him across the horse in front of him, and
galloped forward towards the allied lines, amid a perfect roar of
cheering, just as a British cavalry regiment rode out from between
the infantry to check a body of French dragoons who were galloping
up at full speed from their side.

With a thundering cheer the British regiment reined up as Rupert
rode up to them, the French dragoons having halted when they saw
that the struggle was over.

"Why, as I live," shouted Colonel Forbes, "it's the little cornet!"

"The little cornet! The little cornet!" shouted the soldiers, and
waved their swords and cheered again and again, in wild enthusiasm;
as Colonel Forbes, Lauriston, Dillon, and the other officers,
pressed forward to greet their long-lost comrade.

Before, however, a word of explanation could be uttered, an officer
rode up.

"The Duke of Marlborough wishes to see you," he said, in French.

"Will you take charge of this little officer, colonel?" Rupert
said, placing the French general, who was half suffocated by
pressure, rage, and humiliation, on his feet again.

"Now, sir," he said to the officer, "I am with you."

The latter led the way to the spot where the duke was sitting on
horseback surrounded by his staff, on rising ground a hundred yards
behind the infantry regiment.

"My Lord Duke," Rupert said, as he rode up, "I beg to report myself
for duty."

"Rupert Holliday!" exclaimed the duke, astonished. "My dear boy,
where do you come from, and where have you been? I thought I was
looking at the deeds of some modern Paladin, but now it is all
accounted for.

"I wrote myself to Marshal Villeroi to ask tidings of you, and to
know why you were not among the officers exchanged; and I was told
that you had escaped from Lille, and had never been heard of
since."

"He never heard of me, sir, but his Majesty of France could have
given you further news. But the story is too long for telling you
now."

"You must be anxious about your friends, Rupert. I heard from
Colonel Holliday just before I left England, begging me to cause
further inquiries to be made for you. He mentioned that your lady
mother was in good health, but greatly grieving at your
disappearance. Neither of them believed you to be dead, and were
confident you would reappear.

"And now, who is the French officer you brought in?"

"I don't know, sir," Rupert said, laughing. "There was no time for
any formal introduction, and I made his acquaintance without asking
his name."

An officer was at once sent off to Colonel Forbes to inquire the
name of the prisoner.

"There is one of your assailants making off!" the duke said; and
Rupert saw that the trooper had regained his feet and was limping
slowly away.

"He fell light," Rupert said; "he was no weight to speak of."

"The other officer is killed, I think," the duke said, looking with
a telescope.

"I fancy so," Rupert said, drily. "I hit him rather hard. He was
the Duc de Carolan, and as he had given much annoyance to a friend
of mine, not to mention a serious act of disservice to myself, I
must own that if I had to kill a Frenchman in order to escape, I
could not have picked out one with whom I had so long an account to
settle."

The officer now rode back, and reported that the prisoner was
General Mouffler.

"A good cavalry officer," the duke said. "It is a useful capture.

"And now, Rupert, you will want to be with your friends. If we
encamp here tonight, come in to me after it is dark and tell me
what you have been doing. If not, come to me the first evening we
halt."

Rupert now rode back to his regiment, where he was again received
with the greatest delight. The men had now dismounted, and Rupert,
after a few cordial words with his brother officers, went off to
find Hugh.

He found the faithful fellow leaning against a tree, fairly crying
with emotion and delight, and Rupert himself could not but shed
tears of pleasure at his reunion with his attached friend. After a
talk with Hugh, Rupert again returned to the officers, who were
just sitting down to a dinner on the grass.

After the meal was over Rupert was called upon to relate his
adventures. Some parts of his narrative were clear enough, but
others were singularly confused and indistinct. The first parts
were all satisfactory. Rupert's capture was accounted for. He said
that in the person of the commanding officer he met an old friend
of Colonel Holliday, who took him to Paris, and presented him at
Versailles.

Then the narrative became indistinct. He fell into disgrace. His
friend was sent back to the army, and he was sent to Lille.

"But why was this, Rupert," Captain Dillon--for he was now a
captain--asked. "Did you call his Majesty out? Or did you kiss
Madame de Maintenon? Or run away with a maid of honour?"

A dozen laughing suggestions were made, and then Rupert said
gravely:

"There was an unfounded imputation that I was interfering with the
plans which his Majesty had formed for the marriage of a lady and
gentleman of the court."

Rupert spoke so gravely that his brother officers saw that any
joking here would be ill timed; but sly winks were exchanged as
Rupert, changing the subject, went on to recount his captivity at
Lille.

The story of his escape was listened to eagerly, and then Rupert
made a long pause, and coloured lightly.

"Several things of no importance then happened," he said, "and as I
was going through the streets of Blois--"

"The streets of where?" Colonel Forbes asked, in astonishment. "You
escape from Lille, just on the frontier, what on earth were you
doing down at Blois, a hundred miles south of Paris?"

Rupert paused again.

"I really cannot explain it, colonel. I shall make a point of
telling the duke, and if he considers that I acted wrongly, I must
bear his displeasure; but the matter is of no real importance, and
does not greatly concern my adventures. Forgive me, if I do not
feel justified in telling it. All the rest is plain sailing."

Again the narrative went on, and the surprise at hearing that
Rupert had been confined at Loches, well known as a prison for
dangerous political offenders, was only exceeded by that occasioned
by the incidents of his escape therefrom. Rupert carried on his
story to the point of the escape from the French, which they had
just witnessed.

There was a chorus of congratulations at his having gone safely
through such great dangers; and Dillon remarked:

"It appears to me that you have been wasting your time and your
gifts most amazingly. Here have you been absent just two years, and
with the exception of a paltry marauder you do not seem to have
slain a single Frenchman, till you broke that officer's skull
today.

"I think, my friends, that the least we can do is to pass a formal
vote of censure upon our comrade for such a grievous waste of his
natural advantages. The only thing in his favour is, that he seems
to have been giving up his whole attention to growing, and he has
got so prodigiously broad and big that now he has again joined us
he will be able to make up for the otherwise sinful loss of time."

A chorus of laughter greeted Dillon's proposal, and the merry group
then broke up, and each went off to his duty.

Rupert's first effort was to obtain such clothes as would enable
him to appear in his place in the ranks without exciting laughter.
Hugh told him that all his clothes and effects were in store at
Liege, but indeed it was questionable whether any would be of use
to him. He was not taller indeed than he was two years before, but
he was broader, by some inches, than before. From the quartermaster
he obtained a pair of jack boots which had belonged to a trooper
who had been killed in a skirmish two days before, and from the
armourer he got a sword, cuirass, and pistols. As to riding
breeches there was no trouble, for several of the officers had
garments which would fit him, but for a regimental coat he could
obtain nothing which was in any way large enough. Hugh was
therefore dispatched to Halle to purchase a riding coat of the best
fashion and largest size that he could find, and a hat as much as
possible in conformity with those generally worn.

An hour or two later Lord Fairholm and Sir John Loveday rode over.
The news of the singular fight on the ground between the armies,
and of the reappearance of the famous "little cornet of the 5th
dragoons" having spread apace through the army.

Joyous and hearty were the greetings, and after a while, the party
being joined by Dillon, Rupert gave his three friends a full
account of his adventures, omitting some of the particulars which
he had not deemed it expedient to speak of in public.

"I understand now," Lord Fairholm said, "the change in your face
which struck me."

"Is my face changed?" Rupert said. "It does not seem to me that I
have changed in face a bit since I joined, six years ago."

"It is not in features, but in expression. You look good tempered
now, Rupert, even merry when you smile, but no man could make a
mistake with you now. There is, when you are not speaking, a sort
of intent look upon your face, intent and determined--the
expression which seems to tell of great danger expected and faced.
No man could have gone through that two months in the dungeon of
Loches and come out unchanged. All the other dangers you have gone
through--and you always seem to be getting into danger of some
kind--were comparatively sharp and sudden, and a sudden peril,
however great, may not leave a permanent mark; but the two months
in that horrible den, from which no other man but yourself would
deem escape possible, could not but change you.

"When you left us, although you were twenty, you were in most
things still a boy; there is nothing boyish about you now. It is
the same material, but it has gone through the fire. You were good
iron, very tough and strong, but you could be bent. Now, Rupert,
you have been tried in the furnace and have come out steel."

"You are very good to say so," Rupert said, smiling, "but I don't
feel all that change which you speak of. I hope that I am just as
much up to a bit of fun as ever I was. At present I strike you
perhaps as being more quiet; but you see I have hardly spoken to a
soul for eighteen months, and have got out of the way rather. All
that I do feel is, that I have gained greatly in strength, as that
unfortunate French trooper found to his cost today.

"But there, the trumpets are sounding; it's too late for a battle
today, so I suppose we have got a march before us."



Chapter 22: Oudenarde.

The trumpet call which summoned Rupert and his friends to horse
was, as he suspected, an indication that there was a general
movement of the troops in front.

Vendome had declined to attack the allies in the position they had
taken up, but had moved by his right to Braine le Leude, a village
close to the ground on which, more than a hundred years later,
Waterloo was fought, and whence he threatened alike Louvain and
Brussels. Marlborough moved his army on a parallel line to
Anderleet. No sooner had he arrived there, than he found that
Vendome was still moving towards his right--a proof that Louvain
was really the object of the attack. Again the allied troops were
set in motion, and all night, through torrents of rain, they
tramped wearily along, until at daybreak they were in position at
Parc, covering the fortress of Louvain. Vendome, finding himself
anticipated, fell back to Braine le Leude without firing a shot.

But though Marlborough had so far foiled the enemy, it was clear
that he was not in a condition to take the offensive before the
arrival of Prince Eugene, who would, he trusted, be able to come to
his assistance; and for weeks the armies watched each other without
movement.

On the 4th of July, Vendome suddenly marched from Braine le Leude,
intending to capture the fortress of Oudenarde. Small bodies of
troops were sent off at the same time to Ghent and Bruges, whose
inhabitants rose and admitted the French. Marlborough, seeing the
danger which threatened the very important fortress of Oudenarde,
sent orders to Lord Chandos who commanded at Ath, to collect all
the small garrisons in the neighbourhood, and to throw himself into
Oudenarde. This was done before Vendome could reach the place,
which was thus secured against a coup de main. Vendome invested the
fortress, brought up his siege train from Tournay, and moved
towards Lessines with his main army, to cover the siege.

The loss of Ghent and Bruges, the annoyances he suffered from party
attacks at home, and the failure of the allies to furnish the
promised contingents, so agitated Marlborough that he was seized
with an attack of fever.

Fortunately, on the 7th of July Prince Eugene arrived. Finding that
his army could not be up in time, he had left them, and,
accompanied only by his personal staff, had ridden on to join
Marlborough.

The arrival of this able general and congenial spirit did much to
restore Marlborough; and after a council with the prince, he
determined to throw his army upon Vendome's line of communications,
and thus force him to fight with his face to Paris.

At two in the morning of the 9th of July, the allies broke up their
camp, and advanced in four great columns towards Lessines and the
French frontier. By noon the heads of the columns had reached
Herfelingen, fourteen miles from their starting point, and bridges
were thrown across the Dender, and the next morning the army
crossed, and then stood between the French and their own frontier.

Vendome, greatly disconcerted at finding that his plans had all
been destroyed, ordered his army to fall back to Gavre on the
Scheldt, intending to cross below Oudenarde.

Marlborough at once determined to press forward, so as to force on
a battle, having the advantage of coming upon the enemy when
engaged in a movement of retreat. Accordingly, at daybreak on the
11th, Colonel Cadogan, with the advanced guard, consisting of the
whole of the cavalry and twelve battalions of infantry, pushed
forward, and marched with all speed to the Scheldt, which they
reached by seven o'clock. Having thrown bridges across it, he
marched to meet the enemy, his troops in battle array; the infantry
opposite Eynes, the cavalry extending to the left towards
Schaerken. Advancing strongly down the river in this order, Cadogan
soon met the French advanced guard under Biron, which was moving up
from Gavre. In the fighting the French had the advantage, retaining
possession of Eynes, and there awaiting the advance of the English.

Meanwhile Marlborough and Eugene, with the main body of the army,
had reached the river, and were engaged in getting the troops
across the narrow bridges, but as yet but a small portion of the
forces had crossed. Seeing this, Vendome determined to crush the
British advanced guard with the whole weight of his army, and so
halted his troops and formed order of battle.

The country in which the battle of Oudenarde was about to be fought
is undulating, and cut up by several streams, with hedgerows,
fields, and enclosures, altogether admirably adapted for an army
fighting a defensive battle. The village of Eynes lies about a mile
below Oudenarde and a quarter of a mile from the Scheldt. Through
it flows a stream formed by the junction of the two rivulets. At a
distance of about a mile from the Scheldt, and almost parallel with
that river, runs the Norken, a considerable stream, which falls
into the Scheldt below Gavre. Behind this river the ground rises
into a high plateau, in which, at the commencement of the fight,
the greater portion of the French army were posted.

The appearance of Colonel Cadogan with his advanced guard
completely astonished the French generals. The allies were known to
have been fifteen miles away on the preceding evening, and that a
great army should march that distance, cross a great river, and be
in readiness to fight a great battle, was contrary to all their
calculations of probabilities.

The Duke of Burgundy wished to continue the march to Ghent. Marshal
Vendome pointed out that it was too late, and that although a
country so intersected with hedges was unfavourable ground for the
army which possessed the larger masses of men, yet that a battle
must be fought. This irresolution and dissension on the part of the
French generals wasted time, and allowed the allies to push large
bodies of troops across the river unmolested. As fast as they got
over Marlborough formed them up near Bevere, a village a few
hundred yards north of Oudenarde. Marlborough then prepared to take
the offensive, and ordered Colonel Cadogan to retake Eynes.

Four English battalions, under Colonel Sabine, crossed the stream
and attacked the French forces in the village, consisting of seven
battalions under Pfiffer, while the cavalry crossed the rivulets
higher up, and came down on the flank of the village. The result
was three French battalions were surrounded and made prisoners, and
the other four routed and dispersed.

The French generals now saw that there was no longer a possibility
of avoiding a general action. Vendome would have stood on the
defensive, which, as he had the Norken with its steep and difficult
ground in his front, was evidently the proper tactics to have
pursued. He was, however, overruled by the Duke of Burgundy and the
other generals, and the French accordingly descended from the
plateau, crossed the Norken, and advanced to the attack. The armies
were of nearly equal strength, the French having slightly the
advantage. The allies had 112 battalions and 180 squadrons, in all
80,000 men; the French, 121 battalions and 198 squadrons, in all
85,000 men.

The French again lost time, and fell into confusion as they
advanced, owing to Marshal Vendome's orders being countermanded by
the Duke of Burgundy, who had nominally the chief command, and who
was jealous of Vendome's reputation. Marlborough divined the cause
of the hesitation, and perceiving that the main attack would be
made on his left, which was posted in front of the Castle of
Bevere, half a mile from the village of the same name; ordered
twelve battalions of infantry under Cadogan to move from his right
at Eynes to reinforce his left.

He then lined all the hedges with infantry, and stationing twenty
British battalions under Argyle with four guns in reserve, awaited
the attack. But few guns were employed on either side during the
battle, for artillery in those days moved but slowly, and the rapid
movements of both armies had left the guns far behind.

The French in their advance at once drew in four battalions, posted
at Groenvelde, in advance of Eynes, and then bearing to their
right, pressed forward with such vigour that they drove back the
allied left. At this point were the Dutch and Hanoverian troops.
Marlborough now dispatched Eugene to take command of the British on
the right, directed Count Lottum to move from the centre with
twenty battalions to reinforce that side of the fight, and went
himself to restore the battle on the left.

Eugene, with his British troops, were gradually but steadily, in
spite of their obstinate resistance, being driven back, when
Lottum's reinforcements arrived, and with these Eugene advanced at
once, and drove back the enemy. As these were in disorder, General
Natzmer, at the head of the Prussian cuirassiers, charged them and
drove them back, until he himself was fallen upon by the French
horse guards in reserve, while the infantry's fire from the
hedgerows mowed down the cuirassiers. So dreadful was the fire that
half the Prussian cavalry were slain, and the rest escaped with
difficulty, hotly pursued by the French household troops.

An even more desperate conflict was all this time raging on the
left. Here Marlborough placed himself at the head of the Dutch and
Hanoverian battalions, and led them back against the French, who
were advancing with shouts of victory, and desperate struggles
ensued. Alison in his history says:

"The ground on which the hostile lines met was so broken, that the
battle in that quarter turned almost into a series of partial
conflicts and even personal encounters. Every bridge, every ditch,
every wood, every hamlet, every enclosure, was obstinately
contested, and so incessant was the roll of musketry, and so
intermingled did the hostile lines become, that the field, seen
from a distance, appeared an unbroken line of flame. A warmer fire,
a more desperate series of combats, was never witnessed in modern
warfare. It was in great part conducted hand to hand, like the
battles of antiquity, of which Livy and Homer have left such
graphic descriptions. The cavalry could not act, from the multitude
of hedges and copses which intersected the theatre of conflict.
Breast to breast, knee to knee, bayonet to bayonet, they maintained
the fight on both sides with the most desperate resolution. If the
resistance, however, was obstinate, the attack was no less
vigorous, and at length the enthusiastic ardour of the French
yielded to the steady valour of the Germans. Gradually they were
driven back, literally at the bayonet's point; and at length,
resisting at every point, they yielded all the ground they had won
at the commencement of the action. So, gradually they were pushed
back as far as the village of Diepenbech, where so stubborn a stand
was made that the allies could no longer advance."

Overkirk had now got the rear of the army across the river, and the
duke, seeing that the Hill of Oycke, which flanked the enemy's
position, was unoccupied by them, directed the veteran general with
his twenty Dutch and Danish battalions to advance and occupy it.
Arrived there, he swung round the left of his line, and so pressed
the French right, which was advanced beyond their outer bounds into
the little plain of Diepenbech. The duke commanded Overkirk to
press round still further to his left by the passes of Mullem and
the mill of Royeghem, by which the French sustained their
communication with the force still on the plateau beyond the
Norken; and Prince Eugene to further extend his right so as to
encompass the mass of French crowded in the plain of Diepenbech.

The night was falling now, and the progress of the allies on either
flank could be seen by the flashes of fire. Vendome, seeing the
immense danger in which his right and centre were placed,
endeavoured to bring up his left, hitherto intact; but the
increasing darkness, the thick enclosures, and the determined
resistance of Eugene's troops, prevented him from carrying out his
intention. So far were the British wings extended round the plain
of Diepenbech, that they completely enclosed it, and Eugene's and
Overkirk's men meeting fought fiercely, each believing the other to
be French. The mistake was discovered, and to prevent any further
mishap of this kind in the darkness, the whole army was ordered to
halt where it was and wait till morning. Had the daylight lasted
two hours longer, the whole of the French army would have been
slain or taken prisoners; as it was, the greater portion made their
way through the intervals of the allied army around them, and fled
to Ghent. Nevertheless, they lost 6,000 killed and wounded, and
9,000 prisoners, while many thousands of the fugitives made for the
French frontier. Thus the total loss to Vendome exceeded 20,000
men, while the allies lost in all 5000.

When morning broke, Marlborough dispatched forty squadrons of horse
in pursuit of the fugitives towards Ghent, sent off Count Lottum
with thirty battalions and fifty squadrons to carry the strong
lines which the enemy had constructed between Ypres and Warneton,
and employed the rest of his force in collecting and tending the
wounded of both armies.

A few days later the two armies, that of Eugene and that of the
Duke of Berwick, which had been marching with all speed parallel to
each other, came up and joined those of Marlborough and Vendome
respectively. The Duke of Berwick's corps was the more powerful,
numbering thirty-four battalions and fifty-five squadrons, and this
raised the Duke de Vendome's army to over 110,000, and placed him
again fairly on an equality with the allies. Marlborough, having by
his masterly movement forced Vendome to fight with his face to
Paris, and in his retreat to retire still farther from the
frontier, now had France open to him, and his counsel was that the
whole army should at once march for Paris, disregarding the
fortresses just as Wellington and Blucher did after Waterloo.

He was however, overruled, even Eugene considering such an attempt
to be altogether too dangerous, with Vendome's army, 110,000
strong, in the rear; and it must be admitted it would certainly
have been a march altogether without a parallel.

Finding that his colleagues would not consent to so daring and
adventurous a march, Marlborough determined to enter France, and
lay siege to the immensely strong fortress of Lille. This was in
itself a tremendous undertaking, for the fortifications of the town
were considered the most formidable ever designed by Vauban. The
citadel within the town was still stronger, and the garrison of
15,000 picked troops were commanded by Marshal Boufflers, one of
the most skillful generals in the French army. To lay siege to such
a fortress as this, while Vendome, with this army of 110,000 men,
lay ready to advance to its assistance, was an undertaking of the
greatest magnitude.

In most cases the proper course to have taken would have been to
advance against and defeat Vendome before undertaking the siege of
Lille; but the French general had entrenched his position with such
skill that he could not be attacked; while he had, moreover, the
advantage, that if the allies stood between him and France, he
stood between them and their base, commanded the Scheldt and the
canals from Holland, and was therefore in position to interfere
greatly with the onerous operation of bringing up stores for the
British army, and with the passage to the front of the immense
siege train requisite for an operation of such magnitude as was now
about to be undertaken, and for whose transport alone 16,000 horses
were required.



Chapter 23: The Siege of Lille.

The British cavalry suffered less severely at Oudenarde than did
those of the other allied nationalities, as they were during the
greater portion of the day held in reserve; and neither Rupert nor
any of his special friends in the regiment were wounded. He was,
however, greatly grieved at the death of Sir John Loveday, who was
killed by a cannonball at the commencement of the action. Two of
the captains in the 5th were also killed, and this gave Rupert
another step. He could have had his captain's rank long before, had
he accepted the Duke's offer, several times repeated, of a post on
his staff. He preferred, however, the life with his regiment, and
in this his promotion was, of course, regular, instead of going up
by favour, as was, and still is, the case on the staff.

The train for the siege of Lille was brought up by canal from
Holland to Brussels; and although the French knew that a large
accumulation of military stores was taking place there, they could
not believe that Marlborough meditated so gigantic an undertaking
as the siege of Lille, and believed that he was intending to lay
siege to Mons.

Berwick, with his army, which had since his arrival on the scene of
action been lying at Douai, now advanced to Montagne; and Vendome
detached 18,000 men from his army, lying between Ghent and Bruges,
to Malle, to intercept any convoy that might move out from
Brussels.

Marlborough's measures were, however, well taken. Eugene, with
twenty-five battalions and thirty squadrons, moved parallel to the
convoy, which was fifteen miles in length; while the Prince of
Wurtemburg, General Wood, the Prince of Orange, each with a large
force, were so placed as to check any movement of the enemy.

The gigantic convoy left Brussels on the 6th of August, and reached
the camp near Lille on the 15th, without the loss of a single
wagon. Prince Eugene, with 53 battalions and 90 squadrons, in all
40,000 men, undertook the siege; while Marlborough, with the main
army of 60,000 men, took post at Heldun, where he alike prevented
Berwick and Vendome from effecting a junction, and covered the
passage of convoys from Brussels, Ath, and Oudenarde. No less than
eighty-one convoys, with food, stores, etc., passed safely along;
and the arrangements for their safety were so perfect that they
excited the lively admiration both of friends and foes.

Feuguieres, the French annalist, asks, "How was it possible to
believe that it was in the power of the enemy to convey to Lille
all that was necessary for the siege and supplies of the army, to
conduct there all the artillery and implements essential for such
an undertaking; and that these immense burdens should be
transported by land over a line of twenty-three leagues, under the
eyes of an army of 80,000 men, lying on the flank of a prodigious
convoy, which extended over five leagues of road? Nevertheless, all
that was done without a shot being fired or a chariot unharnessed.
Posterity will scarcely believe it. Nevertheless, it was the simple
truth."

To facilitate his operations, Marlborough threw six bridges across
the Scheldt, and 10,000 pioneers were collected to commence the
lines which were to surround the city. The lines were projected not
only to shut in the city, but to protect the besiegers from attacks
by a relieving army. Never since Caesar besieged Alesia had works
upon so gigantic a scale been constructed. They were fifteen miles
in circumference, and the ditch was fifteen feet wide and nine
deep.

On the 23rd of August, the lines of circumvallation being now
nearly finished, Eugene opened his trenches and began operations
against the city, the parts selected for attack being the gates of
Saint Martin and of the Madelaine. These points were upon the same
side of the city, but were separated from each other by the river
Dyle, which flows through the town.

On the morning of the 24th the cannonade opened, Prince Eugene
himself firing the first gun on the right, the Prince of Orange
that on the left attack. The troops worked with the greatest
energy, and the next day forty-four guns poured their fire into the
advanced works round the chapel of the Madelaine, which stood
outside the walls. The same night the chapel was carried by
assault; but the next night, while a tremendous cannonade was going
on, 400 French issued quietly from their works, fell upon the 200
Dutch who held the chapel, killed or drove them out, blew up the
chapel, which served as an advanced post for the besiegers, and
retired before reinforcements could arrive.

Marshal Vendome now determined to unite with the Duke of Berwick,
and to raise the siege, and by making a long and circuitous march,
to avoid Marlborough's force. This was accomplished; the two armies
united, and advanced to relieve Lille.

Marlborough, who foresaw the line by which they would approach,
drew up his army in order of battle, with his right resting on the
Dyle at Noyelles, and his left on the Margne at Peronne. Two hours
after he had taken up his position, the French army, 110,000
strong, the most imposing France had ever put in the field,
appeared before him.

The Duke of Marlborough had been strengthened by 10,000 men dispatched
to him by Prince Eugene from the besieging army, but he had only
70,000 men to oppose to the French. And yet, notwithstanding their
great superiority of numbers, the enemy did not venture to attack, and
for a fortnight the armies remained facing each other, without a blow
being struck on either side.

The French were, in fact, paralyzed by the jealousy of the two
great generals commanding them, each of whom opposed the other's
proposals; and nothing could be decided until the king sent
Monsieur Chamillard, the French minister of war, to examine the
spot, and give instructions for an attack.

The six days, however, which elapsed between the appearance of the
French army in front of Marlborough and the arrival of Monsieur
Chamillard in camp, had given Marlborough time so to entrench his
position, that upon reconnoitring it Chamillard, Vendome, Berwick,
and the other generals, were unanimous in their opinion that it was
too strong to be attacked. The great army therefore again retired,
and taking up its post between Brussels and Lille, completely
interrupted the arrival of further convoys or stores to the British
camp.

The siege meantime had been pressed hotly. From the 27th of August
to the 7th of September 120 cannon and eighty mortars thundered
continuously; and on the evening of the 7th two breaches were
effected in the side of the bastions of the outworks that were to
be assaulted.

Fourteen thousand men prepared to storm the outworks. The French
allowed them to get, with but slight resistance, into the covered
way, where a terrific fire was poured upon them. 800 were shot down
in a few minutes, and two mines were exploded under them. The
fighting was desperate; but the assailants managed to retain
possession of two points in the outwork, a success most dearly
purchased with a loss of 2000 killed, and as many wounded.

It was not until the 20th that a fresh attempt to carry the place
by storm was made. At this time Marlborough's position was becoming
critical. The fortress held out bravely. The consumption of
ammunition was so enormous, that his supplies were almost
exhausted, and a great army lay directly upon his line of
communication. It became a matter of necessity that the place
should be taken. Immense efforts were made to secure the success of
the assault. Enormous quantities of fascines were made for filling
up the ditch, and 5000 British troops were sent by Marlborough from
his army to lead the assault.

Rupert Holliday, with many other officers, accompanied this body as
a volunteer. The troops were drawn up as the afternoon grew late,
and just as it became dark they advanced to the assault.

The besieged in the outworks assaulted were supported by the fire
of the cannon and musketry of the ramparts behind, from which, so
soon as the dense masses of the stormers advanced, a stream of
flame issued. So tremendous was the carnage, that three times the
troops recoiled before the storm of balls.

On the fourth occasion Eugene himself led them to the assault, on
either side of him were the Princes of Orange and Hesse, and a
number of officers.

"Remember Hochstadt, Ramilies, and Oudenarde!" the prince shouted;
but scarcely had he spoken when he was struck to the ground by a
bullet, which struck and glanced over the left eye.

Then the troops dashed forward, and forced their way into the
outwork. The French fought with magnificent resolution; and were
from time to time reinforced by parties from the city.

For two hours the fight raged. With bayonets and clubbed muskets,
hand to hand, the troops fought. No one flinched or gave way;
indeed it was safer to be in the front line than behind; for in
front friends and foes were so mixed together, that the French on
the ramparts were unable to fire, but had to direct their aim at
the masses behind.

At last the allies gained ground. Gradually, foot by foot, the
French were thrust back; and Rupert, who had been fighting
desperately in the front line of the stormers' party, directed his
efforts to a part where a French officer still held his ground,
nobly backed by his men. The piled up dead in front of them showed
how strenuous had been the resistance to the advancing wave of the
allies.

Rupert gradually reached the spot, and had no difficulty in placing
himself vis-a-vis to the French officer; for so terrible was his
skill, that others willingly turned aside to attack less dangerous
opponents. In a moment the swords crossed!

The light was a strange one, flickering and yet constant, with the
thousands of firearms, which kept up an unceasing roar. The swords
clashed and ground together, and after a pass or two both men drew
back. A bright flash from a musket not a yard away threw a bright
though momentary light on their faces.

"Monsieur Dessin!" Rupert exclaimed, in delight.

"What! Is it possible?" the Frenchman exclaimed. "Rupert Holliday!"

At the moment there was a tremendous rush of the British. The
French were borne back, and hurled over the edge of the outwork;
and before Rupert could avert the blow, the butt end of a musket
fell with great force upon his late opponent's head.

Rupert leapt forward, and lifting him in his arms, made his way
with him to the rear; for with that last rush the fight was over,
and the allies had established themselves in the left demi-bastion
of the outwork--an important advantage, but one which had cost them
5000 killed and wounded, of whom 3000 belonged to the English
force, whom Marlborough had sent. The fact that more than half of
them were hors-de-combat showed how fiercely they had fought.

Owing to the wound of Prince Eugene, the Duke of Marlborough had to
direct the operations of the siege as well as to command the army
in the field. On the 23rd he followed up the advantage gained on
the 20th, by a fresh attack in two columns, each 5000 strong, and
headed by 500 English troops. After being three times repulsed,
these succeeded in maintaining a lodgment in another outwork;
losing, however, 1000 men in the attack, the greater part being
destroyed by the explosion of a mine.

Both besiegers and besieged were now becoming straitened for
ammunition, for the consumption had been immense. The French
generals succeeded in passing a supply into the fortress in a very
daring manner.

On the night of the 28th, 2500 horsemen set out from Douai, under
the command of the Chevalier de Luxembourg, each having forty
pounds of powder in his valise. They arrived at the gate of the
walls of circumvallation, when the Dutch sentry cried out:

"Who comes there?"

"Open quickly!" the leader answered in the same language; "I am
closely pursued by the French."

The sentry opened the gate, and the horsemen began to pass in.
Eighteen hundred had passed without suspicion being excited, when
one of the officers, seeing that his men were not keeping close up,
gave the command in French:

"Close up! close up!"

The captain of the guard caught the words, and suspecting
something, ordered the party to halt; and then, as they still rode
in, ordered the guard to fire. The discharge set fire to three of
the powder bags, and the explosion spreading from one to another,
sixty men and horses were killed. The portion of the troops still
outside the gate fled, but the 800 who had passed in rode forward
through the allied camp and entered the town in safety, with 70,000
pounds of powder!

Another deed of gallantry, equal to anything ever told in fiction,
was performed by a Captain Dubois of the French army. It was a
matter of the highest importance for the French generals to learn
the exact state of things at Lille. Captain Dubois volunteered to
enter the fortress by water. He accordingly left the French camp,
and swimming through seven canals, entered the Dyle near the place
where it entered the besiegers' lines. He then dived, and aided by
the current, swam under water for an incredibly long distance, so
as entirely to elude the observation of the sentinels. He arrived
in safety in the town, exhausted with his great exertions.

After having had dry clothes put on him, and having taken some
refreshment, he was conducted round the walls by Marshal Boufflers,
who showed him all the defensive works, and explained to him the
whole circumstances of the position. The next night he again set
out by the Dyle, carrying dispatches in an envelope of wax in his
mouth, and after diving as before through the dangerous places, and
running innumerable risks of detection, he arrived in safety in the
French camp.

But it was not the French alone who had run short of ammunition.
Marlborough had also been greatly straitened, and there being now
no possibility of getting through convoys from Brussels, he
persuaded the home government to direct a considerable expedition,
which had been collected for the purpose of exciting an alarm on
the coast of Normandy, and was now on board ship in the Downs, to
be sent to Ostend. It arrived there, to the number of fourteen
battalions and an abundant supply of ammunition, on the 23rd of
September; and Marlborough detached 15,000 men from his army to
protect the convoy on its way up.

On the 27th of September, the convoy started, crossed the canal of
Nieuport at Leffinghen, and directed its course by Slype to defile
through the woods of Wyndendale. General Webb, who commanded the
troops detached for its protection, took post with 8000 men to
defend its passage through the wood, which was the most dangerous
portion of the journey, while Cadogan with the rest of the force
was stationed at Hoglede to cover the march farther on.

Vendome had received information of the march of the column, and
detached Monsieur de la Mathe with 20,000 men to intercept the
convoy. At five in the evening the force approached the wood,
through which the convoy was then filing. Webb posted his men in
the bushes, and when the French--confident in the great superiority
of numbers which they knew that they possessed--advanced boldly,
they were received by such a terrible fire of musketry, poured in
at a distance of a hundred yards, that they fell into confusion.
They, however, rallied, and made desperate efforts to penetrate the
wood, but they were over and over again driven back, and after two
hours' fighting they retired, leaving the convoy to pass on in
safety to the camp.

In this glorious action 8000 English defeated 20,000 French, and
inflicted on them a loss of 4000 killed and wounded. Several fresh
assaults were now made, and gradually the allies won ground, until,
on the eve of the grand assault, Marshal Boufflers surrendered the
town, and retired with the survivors of the defenders into the
citadel, which held out for another month, and then also
surrendered. In this memorable siege, the greatest--with the
exception of that of Sebastopol--that has ever taken place in
history, the allies lost 3632 men killed, 8322 wounded, in all
11,954; and over 7000 from sickness. Of the garrison, originally
15,000 strong, and reinforced by the 1800 horsemen who made their
way through the allied camp, but 4500 remained alive at the time of
the final capitulation.

Marshall Boufflers only surrendered the citadel on the express
order of Louis the 14th not to throw away any more lives of the
brave men under him. At the time of the surrender the last flask of
powder was exhausted, and the garrison had long been living on
horseflesh.

After Lille had fallen, Marlborough, by a feint of going into
winter quarters, threw the French generals off their guard; and
then by a rapid dash through their lines fell upon Ghent and
Bruges, and recaptured those cities before Vendome had time to
collect and bring up his army to save them.

Then ended one of the most remarkable campaigns in the annals of
our own or any other history.



Chapter 24: Adele.

"My dear, dear lad," the Marquis of Pignerolles said, as he made
his way with Rupert back out of the throng in the captured outwork;
"what miracle is this? I heard that you had died at Loches."

"A mistake, as you see," Rupert laughed. "But I shall tell you all
presently. First, how is mademoiselle?"

"Well, I trust," the marquis said; "but I have not heard of her for
eighteen months. I have been a prisoner in the Bastille, and was
only let out two months since, together with some other officers,
in order to take part in the defence of Lille. Even then I should
not have been allowed to volunteer, had it not been that the Duc de
Carolan, Adele's persecutor, was killed; and his Majesty's plans
having been thus necessarily upset, he was for the time being less
anxious to know what had become of Adele."

"In that case you have to thank me for your deliverance," Rupert
said; "for it was I who killed monsieur le duc, and never in my
life did I strike a blow with a heartier goodwill."

"You!" the marquis exclaimed in astonishment; "but I might have
guessed it. I inquired about his death when I reached Lille, and
was told by an officer who was there that he was killed in an
extraordinary combat, in which General Mouffler, a trooper, and
himself were put hors de combat in sight of the whole army, by a
deserter of demoniacal strength, skill, and activity. I ought to
have recognized you at once; and no doubt should have done so, had
I not heard that you were dead. I never was so shocked, dear boy,
in all my life, and have done nothing but blame myself for allowing
you to run so fearful a risk."

On arriving at the camp Rupert presented his prisoner to the Duke
of Marlborough, who having, when Rupert rejoined, heard the story
of his discovery in the Marquis de Pignerolles of his old friend
Monsieur Dessin, received him with great kindness, and told him
that he was free to go where he liked until arrangements could be
made for his exchange. Rupert then took him to his tent, where they
sat for many hours talking.

Rupert learned that after his escape from Lille the marquis was for
three weeks confined to his bed. Before the end of that time a
messenger brought him a letter from Adele, saying that she was well
and comfortable. When he was able to travel he repaired at once to
Versailles; having received a peremptory order from the king, a few
days after Rupert left, to repair to the court the instant he could
be moved. He found his Majesty in the worst of humours; the
disappearance of Adele had thwarted his plan, and Louis the 14th
was not a man accustomed to be baulked in his intentions. The news
of Rupert's escape from Lille had further enraged him, as he
connected it with Adele's disappearance; and the fact that the
capture of Rupert had thrown no light upon Adele's hiding place had
still further exasperated him.

He now demanded that the marquis should inform him instantly of her
place of concealment. This command the marquis had firmly declined
to comply with. He admitted that he could guess where she would
take refuge; but that as he sympathized with her in her objection
to the match which his Majesty had been pleased to make for her, he
must decline to say a word which could lead to her discovery. Upon
leaving the king's presence he was at once arrested, and conveyed
to the Bastille.

Imprisonment in the Bastille, although rigorous, was not, except in
exceptional cases, painful for men of rank. They were well fed and
not uncomfortably lodged; and as the governor had been a personal
friend of the marquis previous to his confinement, he had been
treated with as much lenity as possible. After he had been a year
in prison, the governor came to his room and told him that Rupert
had been drowned by the overflowing of the moat at Loches, and that
if therefore his daughter was, as it was believed, actuated by an
affection for the Englishman in refusing to accept the husband that
the king had chosen for her, it was thought that she might now
become obedient. He was therefore again ordered to name the place
of her concealment.

The marquis replied that he was not aware that his daughter had any
affection for Rupert beyond the regard which an acquaintance of
many years authorized; and that as he was sure the news would in no
way overcome her aversion to the match with the Duc de Carolan, he
must still decline to name the place where he might suspect that
she had hidden herself.

He heard nothing more for some months; and then the governor told
him privately that the duke was dead, and that as it was thought
that Lille would be besieged, two or three other officers in the
Bastille had petitioned for leave to go to aid in the defence. Had
the duke still lived, the governor was sure that any such request
on the part of the marquis would have been refused. As it was,
however, his known military skill and bravery would be so useful in
the defence, that it was possible that the king would now consent.
The marquis had therefore applied for, and had received, permission
to go to aid in the defence of Lille.

Rupert then told his story, which excited the wonder and admiration
of the marquis to the highest point. When he concluded, he said:

"And now, monsieur le marquis, I must say what I have never said
before, because until I travelled with her down to Poitiers I did
not know what my own feelings really were. Then I learned to know
that which I felt was not a mere brotherly affection, but a deep
love. I know that neither in point of fortune nor in rank am I the
equal of mademoiselle; but I love her truly, sir, and the Chace,
which will some day be mine, will at least enable me to maintain
her in comfort.

"Monsieur le marquis, may I ask of you the hand of your daughter?"

"You may indeed, my dear Rupert," the marquis said warmly, taking
his hand. "Even when in England the possibility that this might
some day come about occurred to me; and although then I should have
regretted Adele's marrying an Englishman, yet I saw in your
character the making of a man to whom I could safely entrust her
happiness. When we met again, I found that you had answered my
expectation of you, and I should not have allowed so great an
intimacy to spring up between you had I not been willing that she
should, if she so wished it, marry you.

"I no longer wish her to settle in France. After what I have seen
of your free England, the despotism of our kings and the feudal
power of our nobles disgust me, and I foresee that sooner or later
a terrible upheaval will take place. What Adele herself will say I
do not know, but imagine that she will not be so obstinate in
refusing to yield to the wishes of her father as she has been to
the commands of her king.

"But she will not bring you a fortune, Rupert. If she marries you,
her estates will assuredly be forfeited by the crown. They are so
virtually now, royal receivers having been placed in possession,
but they will be formally declared forfeited on her marriage with
you. However, she will not come to you a dowerless bride. In seven
years I have laid by sufficient to enable me to give her a dowry
which will add a few farms to the Chace.

"And now, Rupert, let us to sleep; day is breaking, and although
your twenty-three years may need no rest, I like a few hours' sleep
when I can get them."

Upon the following day the conversation was renewed.

"I think, Rupert, that my captivity is really a fortunate one for
our plans. So long as I remained in France my every movement would
be watched. I dared not even write to Adele, far less think of
going to see her. Now I am out of sight of the creatures of Louis,
and can do as I please.

"I have been thinking it over. I will cross to England. Thence I
will make my way in a smuggler's craft to Nantes, where the
governor is a friend of mine. From him I will get papers under an
assumed name for my self and daughter, and with them journey to
Poitiers, and so fetch her to England."

"You will let me go with you, will you not?" Rupert exclaimed. "No
one can tell I am not a Frenchman by my speech, and I might be
useful."

"I don't know, Rupert. You might be useful, doubtless, but your
size and strength render you remarkable."

"Well, but there are big Frenchmen as well as big Englishmen,"
Rupert said. "If you travel as a merchant, I might very well go as
your serving man, and you and I together could, I think, carry
mademoiselle in safety through any odds. It will not be long to
wait. I cannot leave until Lille falls, but I am sure the duke will
give me leave as soon as the marshal surrenders the city, which
cannot be very many days now; for it is clear that Vendome will not
fight, and a desperate resistance at the end would be a mere waste
of life."

So it was arranged, and shortly afterwards Rupert took his friend
Major Dillon into his confidence. The latter expressed the wildest
joy, shook Rupert's hand, patted him on the back, and absolutely
shouted in his enthusiasm. Rupert was astonished at the excess of
joy on his friend's part, and was mystified in the extreme when he
wound up:

"You have taken a great load off my mind, Rupert. You have made Pat
Dillon even more eternally indebted to you than he was before."

"What on earth do you mean, Dillon?" Rupert asked. "What is all
this extraordinary delight about? I know I am one of the luckiest
fellows in the world, but why are you so overjoyed because I am in
love?"

"My dear Rupert, now I can tell you all about it. I told you, you
know, that in the two winters you were away I went, at the
invitation of Mynheer van Duyk, to Dort; in order that he might
hear whether there was any news of you, and what I thought of your
chance of being alive, and all that; didn't I?"

"Yes, you told me all that, Dillon; but what on earth has that got
to do with it?"

"Well, my boy, I stopped each time something like a month at Dort,
and, as a matter of course, I fell over head and ears in love with
Maria van Duyk. I never said a word, though I thought she liked me
well enough; but she was for ever talking about you and praising
you, and her father spoke of you as his son; and I made sure it was
all a settled thing between you, and thought what a sly dog you
were never to have breathed a word to me of your good fortune. If
you had never come back I should have tried my luck with her; but
when you turned up again, glad as I was to see you, Rupert, I made
sure that there was an end of any little corner of hope I had had.

"When you told me about your gallivanting about France with a young
lady, I thought for a moment that you might have been in love with
her; but then I told myself that you were as good as married to
Maria van Duyk, and that the other was merely the daughter of your
old friend, to whom you were bound to be civil. Now I know you are
really in love with her, and not with Maria, I will try my luck
there, that is, if she doesn't break her heart and die when she
hears of the French girl."

"Break her heart! Nonsense, man!" Rupert laughed. "She was two
years older than I was, and looked upon me as a younger brother.
Her father lamented that I was not older, but admitted that any
idea of a marriage between us was out of the question. But I don't
know what he will say to your proposal to take her over to
Ireland."

"My proposal to take her over to Ireland!" repeated Dillon, in
astonishment. "I should as soon think of proposing to take her to
the moon! Why, man, I have not an acre of ground in Ireland, nor a
shilling in the world, except my pay. No; if she will have me, I'll
settle down in Dort and turn Dutchman, and wear big breeches, and
take to being a merchant."

Rupert burst into a roar of laughter.

"You a merchant, Pat! Mynheer van Duyk and Dillon! Why, man, you'd
bring the house to ruin in a year. No, no; if Maria will have you,
I shall be delighted; but her fortune will be ample without your
efforts--you who, to my positive knowledge, could never keep your
company's accounts without the aid of your sergeant."

Dillon burst out laughing, too.

"True for you, Rupert. Figures were never in my line, except it is
such a neat figure as Maria has. Ah, Rupert! I always thought you a
nice lad; but how you managed not to fall in love with her, though
she was a year or so older than yourself, beats Pat Dillon
entirely. Now the sooner the campaign is over, and the army goes
into winter quarters, the better I shall be pleased."

It was a dark and squally evening in November, when La Belle
Jeanne, one of the fastest luggers which carried on a contraband
trade between England and France, ran up the river to Nantes. She
had been chased for twelve hours by a British war ship, but had at
last fairly outsailed her pursuers, and had run in without mishap.
On her deck were two passengers; Maitre Antoine Perrot, a merchant,
who had been over to England to open relations with a large house
who dealt in silks and cloths; and his servant Jacques Bontemps,
whose sturdy frame and powerful limbs had created the admiration of
the crew of the Belle Jeanne.

An hour later the lugger was moored against the quay, her crew had
scattered to their homes, and the two travellers were housed in a
quiet cabaret near, where they had called for a private room.

Half an hour later Maitre Perrot left the house, inquired the way
to the governor's residence, left a letter at the door, and then
returned to the cabaret. At nine o'clock a cloaked stranger was
shown into the room. When the door was closed he threw off his hat
and cloak.

"My dear marquis, I am delighted to see you; but what means this
wild freak of yours?"

"I will tell you frankly, de Brissac."

And the Marquis de Pignerolles confided to the Count de Brissac his
plan for getting his daughter away to England.

"It is a matter for the Bastille of his most Christian Majesty,
should he learn that I have aided you in carrying your daughter
away; but I will risk it, marquis, for our old friendship's sake.
You want a passport saying that Maitre Antoine Perrot, merchant of
Nantes, with his servant, Jacques Bontemps, is on his way to
Poitiers, to fetch his daughter, residing near that town, and that
that damsel will return with him to Nantes?"

"That is it, de Brissac. What a pity that it is not with us as in
England, where every man may travel where he lists without a soul
asking him where he goes, or why."

"Ah! Well, I don't know," said the count, who had the usual
aristocratic prejudice of a French noble of his time. "It may suit
the islanders of whom you are so fond, marquis, but I doubt whether
it would do here. We should have plotters and conspirators going
all over the country, and stirring up the people."

"Ah! Yes, count; but if the people had nothing to complain of, they
would not listen to the conspirators. But there, I know we shall
never agree about this. When the war is over you must cross the
channel, and see me there."

"No, no," de Brissac said, laughing. "I love you, de Pignerolles,
but none of the fogs and mists of that chilly country for me. His
Majesty will forgive you one of these days, and then we will meet
at Versailles."

"So be it," the marquis said. "When Adele's estates have been
bestowed upon one of his favourites, he will have no reason for
keeping me in exile; but we shall see."

"You shall have your papers without fail tomorrow early, so you can
safely make your preparations. And now goodbye, and may fortune
attend you."

It was not until noon next day that Maitre Perrot and his servant
rode out from Nantes, for they had had some trouble in obtaining
two horses such as they required, but had at last succeeded in
obtaining two animals of great strength and excellent breeding. The
saddle of Maitre Perrot had a pillion attached behind for a lady,
but this was at present untenanted.

Both travellers carried weapons, for in those days a journey across
France was not without its perils. Discharged soldiers, escaped
serfs, and others, banded together in the woods and wild parts of
France; and although the governors of provinces did their best to
preserve order, the force at their command was but small, as every
man who could be raised was sent to the frontier, which the fall of
Lille had opened to an invading army.

Until they were well beyond Nantes, Rupert rode behind the marquis,
but when they reached the open country he moved up alongside.

"I do not know when I have enjoyed a week so much as the time we
spent at the Chace, Rupert. Your grandfather is a wonderful old
man, as hard as iron; and your lady mother was most kind and
cordial. She clearly bore no malice for my interference in her love
affair some years ago."

"Upon the contrary," Rupert said. "I am sure that she feels
grateful to you for saving her from the consequences of her
infatuation."

Six days later, the travellers rode into Poitiers. They had met
with no misadventure on the way. Once or twice they had met parties
of rough fellows, but the determined bearing and evident strength
of master and man had prevented any attempt at violence.

The next morning they started early, and after two hours' riding
approached the cottage where Adele had for two years lived with her
old nurse. They dismounted at the door.

"Go you in, sir," said Rupert. "I will hold the horses. Your
daughter will naturally like best to meet you alone."

The marquis nodded, lifted the latch of the door, and went in.
There was a pause, and then he heard a cry of "Father!" just as the
door closed. In another instant it opened again, and Margot stole
out, escaping to leave her mistress alone with her father.

She ran down to the gate, looked at Rupert, and gave a little
scream of pleasure, leaping and clapping her hands.

"I said so, monsieur. I always said so. 'When monsieur le marquis
comes, mademoiselle, you be sure monsieur l'Anglais will come with
him.'"

"And what did mademoiselle used to say?"

"Oh, she used to pretend she did not believe you would. But I knew
better. I knew that when she said, over and over again, 'Is my
father never coming for me?' she was thinking of somebody else. And
are you come to take her away?"

Rupert nodded.

The girl's face clouded.

"Oh, how I shall miss her! But there, monsieur, the fact is--the
fact is--"

"You need not pretend to be shy," Rupert said, laughing. "I can
guess what 'the fact is.' I suppose that there is somebody in your
case too, and that you are just waiting to be married till
mademoiselle goes."

Margot laughed and coloured, and was going to speak, when the door
opened, and the marquis beckoned him in.

"Mr. Holliday," he said, as Rupert on entering found Adele leaning
on her father's shoulder, with a rosy colour, and a look of
happiness upon her face. "I have laid my commands upon my daughter,
Mademoiselle Adele de Pignerolles, to receive you as her future
husband, and I find no disposition whatever on her part to defy my
authority, as she has that of his Majesty.

"There, my children, may you be happy together!"

So saying, he left the room, and went to look after the horse,
leaving Adele and Rupert to their new-found happiness.



Chapter 25: Flight and Pursuit.

It was early in the afternoon when Monsieur Perrot, with his
daughter behind him on a pillion, and his servant riding a short
distance in the rear, rode under the gateway of Parthenay. A party
of soldiers were at the gateway, and a gendarmerie officer stood
near. The latter glanced carelessly at the passport which the
merchant showed him, and the travellers rode on.

"Peste!" one of the soldiers said; "what is monsieur the Marquis de
Pignerolles doing here, riding about dressed as a bourgeois, with a
young woman at his back?"

"Which is the Marquis de Pignerolles?" one of the others said.

"He who has just ridden by. He was colonel of my regiment, and I
know him as well as I do you."

"It can't be him, Pierre. I saw Louis Godier yesterday, he has come
home on leave--he belongs to this town, you know--wounded at Lille.
He was telling me about the siege, and he said that the marquis was
taken prisoner by the English."

"Prisoner or not prisoner," the other said obstinately, "that is
the marquis. Why, man, do you think one could be mistaken in his
own colonel?--a good officer, too; rather strict perhaps, but a
good soldier, and a lion to fight."

The gendarme moved quietly away, and repeated what he had heard to
his captain.

"The Marquis de Pignerolles, travelling under the name of Monsieur
Perrot, silk merchant of Nantes, with a young lady behind him," the
officer exclaimed. "While he is supposed to be a prisoner in
England? This must be his daughter, for whom we made such a search
two years ago, and who has been on our lists ever since.

"This is important, Andre. I will go at once to the prefecture, and
obtain an order for their arrest. They will be sure to have put up
at the Fleur de Lys, it is the only hostelry where they could find
decent accommodation. Go at once, and keep an eye on them. There is
no great hurry, for they will not think of going further today, and
the prefect will be at dinner just at present, and hates being
disturbed."

The marquis and Adele were standing over a blazing fire of logs in
the best room of the Fleur de Lys, when Rupert, who was looking out
of the casemented window, said:

"Monsieur le marquis, I do not want to alarm you unnecessarily, but
there is a gendarme on the other side of the street watching this
house. He was standing by a group of soldiers at the gate when we
rode through. I happened to notice him particularly.

"He is walking slowly backwards and forwards. I saw him when I was
at the door a quarter of an hour ago, and he is there still, and
just now I saw him glance up at these windows. He is watching us.
That is why I made an excuse to come up here to ask you about the
horses."

"Are you sure, Rupert?"

"Quite sure," Rupert said, gravely.

"Then there is no doubt about it," the marquis said; "for I know
that you would not alarm us unnecessarily. What do you advise?"

"I will go down," Rupert said, "and put the saddles on quietly. The
stable opens into the street behind. There is a flight of stairs at
the end of the long passage here, which leads down into a passage
below, at the end of which is a door into the stable yard. I have
just been examining it. I should recommend Adele to put on her
things, and to be in readiness, and then to remain in her room. If
you keep a watch here, you will see everyone coming down the
street, and the moment you see an officer approaching, if you will
lock the door outside and take the key with you, then call Adele,
and come down the back stairs with her into the yard, I will have
the horses in readiness. There is only one man in the stable. A
crown piece will make him shut his eyes as we ride out, and they
will be five minutes at the door before they find that we have
gone."

The marquis at once agreed to the plan, and Rupert went down into
the stable yard, and began to resaddle the horses.

"What, off again?" the ostler said.

"Yes," Rupert answered. "Between you and I, my master has just seen
a creditor to whom he owes a heavy bill, and he wants to slip away
quietly. Here is a crown for yourself, to keep your tongue between
your teeth.

"Now lend me a hand with these saddles, and help bring them out
quickly when I give the word."

The horses resaddled and turned in their stables ready to be
brought out without a moment's delay, Rupert took his place at the
entrance, and watched the door leading from the hotel. In ten
minutes it opened, and the marquis, followed by Adele, came out.

"Quick with that horse," Rupert said to the ostler; and seeing to
the other, they were in the yard as soon as the marquis came up.

"An officer and eight men," he whispered to Rupert as he leapt into
the saddle, while Rupert lifted Adele on to the pillion.

"Mounted?"

"No."

"Then we have a good half-hour's start.

"Which is the way to the west gate?"

"Straight on, till you reach the wall; follow that to the right, it
will bring you to the gate."

Rupert vaulted into his saddle, and the party rode out into the
street; and then briskly, but without any appearance of
extraordinary haste, until they reached the gate.

The guardian of the gate was sitting on a low block of wood at the
door of the guardroom. There was, Rupert saw, no soldier about.
Indeed, the place was quiet, for the evening was falling, and but
few people cared to be about in those times after nightfall.

An idea flashed across Rupert's mind, and he rode up to the
marquis:

"Please lead my horse," he said. "Wait for me a hundred yards on. I
will be with you in three minutes."

Without waiting for an answer, he leapt from his horse, threw the
reins to the marquis, and ran back to the gate, which was but
thirty yards back.

"A word with you, good man," he said, going straight into the
guardroom.

"Hullo!" the man said, getting up and following him in. "And who
may you be, I should like to know, who makes so free?"

Rupert, without a word, sprang upon the man and bore him to the
ground. Then, seeing that there was an inner room, he lifted him,
and ran him in there, the man being too astonished to offer the
slightest resistance. Then Rupert locked him in, and taking down
the great key of the gate, which hung over the fireplace, went out,
closed the great gate of the town, locked it on the outside, and
threw the key into the moat. Then he went off at a run and joined
the marquis, who with Adele was waiting anxiously at the distance
he had asked him.

"What have you been doing, Rupert?"

"I have just locked the great gate and thrown the key into the
moat," Rupert said. "The gate is a solid one, and they will not get
it open tonight. If they are to pursue us, they must go round to
one of the other gates, and then make a circuit to get into this
road again. I have locked the porter up, and I don't suppose they
will find it out till they ride up, half an hour hence. They will
try for another quarter of an hour to open the gate, and it will be
another good half-hour's ride to get round by the road, so we have
over one hour's start."

"Capital, indeed," the marquis said, as they galloped forward. "The
dangers you have gone through have made you quick witted indeed,
Rupert.

"I see you have changed saddles."

"Yes, your horse had been carrying double all day, so I thought it
better to give a turn to the other. It is fortunate that we have
been making short journeys each day, and that our horses are
comparatively fresh."

"Why did you come out by the west gate, Rupert? The north was our
way."

"Yes, our direct way," Rupert said; "but I was thinking it over
while waiting for you. You see with the start we have got and good
horses, we might have kept ahead of them for a day; but with one
horse carrying double, there is no chance of us doing so for eighty
miles. We must hide up somewhere to let the horses rest. They would
make sure that we were going to take ship, and would be certain to
send on straight to Nantes, so that we should be arrested when we
arrive there.

"As it is we can follow this road for thirty miles, as if going to
La Rochelle, and then strike up for a forty miles ride across to
Nantes."

"Well thought of, indeed," Monsieur de Pignerolles said.

"Adele, this future lord and master of yours is as long headed as
he is long limbed."

Adele laughed happily. The excitement, and the fresh air and the
brisk pace, had raised her spirits; and with her father and lover
to protect her, she had no fear of the danger that threatened them.

"With a ten miles start they ought not to overtake us till morning,
Rupert."

"No," Rupert said, "supposing that we could keep on, but we cannot.
The horses have done twenty-five miles today. They have had an hour
and a half's rest, but we must not do more than as much farther, or
we shall run the risk of knocking them up."

So they rode on at a fast trot for three hours.

"Here is a little road to the right," Rupert said. "Let us ride up
there, and stop at the first house we come to."

It was a mere byroad, and as once out of the main road they were
for the present safe from pursuit, they now suffered the horses to
break into a walk. It was not until two miles had been passed that
they came to a small farmhouse. Rupert dismounted and knocked at
the door.

"Who is there?" a voice shouted within.

"Travellers, who want shelter and are ready to pay well for it."

"No, no," the voice said. "No travellers come along here, much less
at this time of night. Keep away. We are armed, I and my son, and
it will be worse for you if you do not leave us alone."

"Look here, good man, we are what I say," Rupert said. "Open an
upstairs casement and show a light, and you will see that we have a
lady with us. We are but two men. Look out, I say. We will pay you
well. We need shelter for the lady."

There was more talking within, and then a heavy step was heard
ascending the stairs. Then a light appeared in an upper room. The
casement opened and a long gun was first thrust out, then a face
appeared.

The night was not a very dark one, and he was able to see the form
of the horse, and of a rider with a female figure behind him. So
far assured, he brought a light and again looked out. The
inspection was satisfactory, for he said:

"I will open the door directly."

Soon Adele was sitting before a fire bright with logs freshly
thrown on. The horses, still saddled, were placed in a shed with an
ample allowance of food. One of the sons, upon the promise of a
handsome reward, started to go a mile down the road, with
instructions to discharge his gun if he heard horsemen coming up
it.

In a quarter of an hour Adele, thoroughly fatigued with her day's
exertions, went to lie down on the bed ordinarily used by the
farmer's daughter. The marquis wrapped himself in his cloak and lay
down in front of the fire, while Rupert took the first watch
outside.

The night passed quietly, and at daybreak the next morning the
party were again in their saddles. Their intention was to ride by
cross lanes parallel to the main road, and to come into that road
again when they felt sure they were ahead of their pursuers, who,
with riding nearly all night, would be certain to come to the
conclusion that they were ahead of the fugitives, and would begin
to search for some signs of where they had left the road.

They instructed their hosts to make no secret of their having been
there, but to tell the exact truth as to their time of arrival and
departure, and to say that from their conversation they were going
south to La Rochelle.

The windings of the country roads that they traversed added greatly
to the length of the journey, and the marquis proposed that they
should strike at once across it for Nantes. Rupert, however, begged
him to continue the line that they had chosen and to show at least
once on the La Rochelle road, so as to lead their pursuers to the
conclusion that it was to that town that they were bound.

In the middle of the day they halted for two hours at a farmhouse,
and allowed their horses to rest and feed, and then shifted the
saddles again, for Rupert had, since starting in the morning, run
the greater part of the way with his hand on the horse's saddle, so
that the animal was quite fresh when they reached their first
halting place.

They then rode on and came down into the La Rochelle road, at a
spot near which they had heard that a wayside inn stood at which
they could obtain refreshments. The instant they drew rein at the
door, they saw from the face of the landlord that inquiries had
been made for them.

"You had better not dismount, sir. These fellows may play you some
trick or other. I will bring some refreshments out, and learn the
news."

So saying, Rupert leapt from his horse, took his pistols from their
holsters, placed one in his belt, and having cocked the other, went
up to the landlord.

"Bring out five manchettes of bread," he said, "and a few bottles
of your best wine; and tell me how long is it since men came here
asking if you had seen us?"

"This morning, about noon," the man said. "Two gendarmes came
along, and a troop of soldiers passed an hour since; they came from
Parthenay."

"Did they say anything besides asking for us? Come, here is a louis
to quicken your recollection."

"They said to each other, as they drank their wine, that you could
not have passed here yet, since you could not get fresh horses, as
they had done. Moreover, they said that troops from every place on
the road were out in search of you."

"Call your man, and bid him bring out quickly the things I have
named," Rupert said.

The man did so; and a lad, looking scared at the sight of Rupert's
drawn pistol, brought out the wine and bread, and three drinking
horns.

"How far is it to La Rochelle?" Rupert asked.

"Thirty-five miles."

"Are there any byroads, by which we can make a detour, so as to
avoid this main road, and so come down either from the north or
south into the town?"

The landlord gave some elaborate directions.

"Good!" Rupert said. "I think we shall get through yet."

Then he broke up two of the portions of bread, and gave them to the
horses, removed the bits from their mouths, and poured a bottle of
wine down each of their throats; then bridled up and mounted,
throwing two louis to the host, and saying:

"We can trust you to be secret as to our having been here, can we
not?"

The landlord swore a great oath that he would say nothing of their
having passed, and they then rode on.

"That landlord had 'rogue' written on his face," Adele said.

"Yes, indeed," Rupert said. "I warrant me by this time he has sent
off to the nearest post. Now we will take the first road to the
north, and make for Nantes. It is getting dark now, and we must not
make more than another ten miles. These poor brutes have gone
thirty already."

Two hours' further riding at an easy pace brought them to a
village, where they were hospitably received at the house of the
maire of the place.

The start was again made early.

"We must do our best today," the marquis said. "We have a
fifty-five mile ride before us; and if the horses take us there,
their work is done, so we can press them to the utmost. The troops
will have been marching all night along the road on which the
innkeeper set them; but by this morning they will begin to suspect
that they have been put on a false scent, and as likely as not will
send to Nantes. We must be first there, if possible."

The horses, however, tired by their long journeys on the two
preceding days, flagged greatly during the last half of the
journey, and it was late in the afternoon before they came in sight
of Nantes. At a slight rise half a mile from the town Rupert looked
back along the straight, level road on which they had ridden the
last few miles of the journey.

"There is a body of men in the distance, marquis. A troop of
cavalry, I should say. They are a long way behind--three miles or
so; and if they are in chase of us, their horses must be fagged;
but in five-and-twenty minutes they will be here."

They urged their weary steeds into a gallop as far as the town, and
then rode quietly along the streets into an inn yard. Here they
dismounted in a leisurely way.

"Take the horses round to the stable, rub them down and give them
food," the marquis said to the ostler who came out.

Then turning to the host, he said:

"A sitting room, with a good fire. Two bedrooms for myself and my
daughter, a bedroom for my servant. Prepare a meal at once. We have
a friend to see before we enter."

So saying, he turned with his daughter, as if to retrace his steps
up the street; but on reaching the first side street, turned, and
then, by another street, made his way down to the river, Rupert
following closely behind.

"There is La Belle Jeanne," the marquis exclaimed. "That is
fortunate. The captain said he should be returning in a week or ten
days, so I hope he has his cargo on board, and will be open to make
a start at once."



Chapter 26: The Siege of Tournai.

In a few minutes they were alongside the lugger.

"Maitre Nicolay! Maitre Nicolay!" the marquis shouted.

"Holloa!" and a head showed up the companion.

On seeing who it was, the speaker emerged.

"It is you, Maitre Perrot."

"Have you your cargo on board?"

"Every barrel," said the skipper. "We sail tomorrow morning."

"I will give you two hundred and fifty louis if you will sail in
ten minutes, and as much more if you land us safely in England."

"Really?"

"Really."

"It is a bargain. Holloa! Pierre! Etienne!"

Two lads ran up from below.

"Run to the wine shops on the quay, fetch the crew. Just whisper in
their ears. Say I am casting off, that no man must wait to say
goodbye to his wife, and that each down in five minutes will have
as many louis, and that in ten I sail, if with only half the crew.
Run! Run!"

The two boys set off at full speed.

"I fear ten minutes will be impossible, Maitre Perrot; but all that
can be done, shall. Is ten absolutely necessary?"

"Twenty may do, Maitre Nicolay; but if we are not off by that time,
we shall not be able to go at all."

"You are pursued?"

"Yes. In half an hour at latest a troop of soldiers will be here
after us."

Maitre Nicolay looked at the sky.

"There is wind enough when we once get well beyond the town; but
unless we get a good start they will overtake us in boats. Is it a
state affair, Maitre Perrot? For I own to you I don't like running
my head against the state."

"I will tell you frankly, captain. I am the Marquis de Pignerolles.
This is my daughter. The king wants her to marry a man she does not
like, and I am running away with her, to save her from being shut
up in a convent till she agrees."

"And this one?" Maitre Nicolay said, pointing to Rupert.

"That is the gentleman whom both I and my daughter like better than
the king's choice."

"That is all right," Maitre Nicolay said. "There is no hanging
matter in that. But look, sir; if you should be late, and they come
up with us in boats, or warn the forts at the entrance, mind, we
cannot fight; you must send us all below, with your swords and
pistols, you see, and batten us down, so that we shan't be
responsible, else I could never show my face in a French port
again.

"Ah! Here come four of the men; yes, and two more after them. That
is good.

"Now," he said, when the men came up, "not a question, not a word.
There is money, but it has to be earned. Now set to work. Loosen
the sails, and get all ready for casting off."

In a quarter of an hour from the moment the party had reached the
Belle Jeanne eight men had arrived, and although these were but
half her crew, the captain, who had been throwing himself heart and
soul in the work, declared that he would wait for no more. The last
rope was thrown off, and the lugger dropped out into the stream.

It was running rapidly out; and as the wind caught the sails, the
Belle Jeanne began to move, standing down towards the sea.

During the time the lugger had been prepared for sea the passengers
had remained below, so as not to attract the attention of the
little crowd of sailors whom the sudden departure had assembled on
the quay. But they now came up on deck. Scarcely were they in the
middle of the stream, and the sails had fairly gathered way on her,
when Rupert exclaimed, "There they are!" as a party of horseman
rode down on to the quay, now nearly a quarter of a mile away.

Then a faint shout came across the water, followed by a musket
shot, the ball splashing in the water a little way astern. The men
looked at each other and at their captain.

"Look here, lads, I will tell you the truth about this matter; and
I know that, as men of La Vendee, you will agree with me. This
gentleman who crossed with us before is a noble, and the king wants
this lady, his daughter, to marry a man she does not like. The
father agrees with her; and he and her fiance, this gentleman here,
have run away with her, to prevent her being locked up. Now we are
bound, as true Vendeans, to assist them; and besides, they are
going to pay handsomely. Each of you will get ten louis if we land
them safe in England.

"But you know we cannot resist the law; so we must let these
gentlemen, with their swords and pistols, drive us below, do you
see? And then we shan't be responsible if the 'Jeanne' does not
heave to when ordered.

"Now let us make a bit of a scuffle; and will you fire a shot or
two, gentlemen? They will be watching us with glasses from the
shore, and will see that we make a fight for it."

The sailors entered into the spirit of the thing, and a mock fight
took place. The marquis and Rupert flashed their swords and fired
their pistols, the crew being driven below, and the hatch put on
above them.

The fugitives had time to look around. Two boats laden with
soldiers had put out, and were rowing after them. The marquis took
the helm.

"The wind is freshening, and I think it will be a gale before
morning, Rupert; but they are gaining upon us. I fear they will
overtake us."

"I don't think they will get on board if they do, sir," Rupert
said. "Had not Adele better sit down on deck under shelter of the
bulwarks? For they keep on firing, and a chance shot might hit
her."

"It is no more likely to hit me than papa or you, Rupert."

"No more likely, my dear," her father said; "but we must run the
risk, and you need not. Besides, if we are anxious about you, we
shall not be so well able to attend to what we have to do."

Adele sat down by the bulwark, but presently said:

"If they come up close, papa, I might take the helm, if you show me
which way to hold it. I could do it sitting down on deck, and you
could help Rupert keep them off."

"Your proposal is a very good one, Adele, and it pleases me much to
see you so cool and steady."

The bullets were now whistling past the lugger, sometimes striking
her sails, sometimes with a sharp tap hitting her hull or mast.

"We may as well sit down out of sight till the time comes for
fighting, Rupert," the marquis said. "Our standing up does no good,
and only frightens this little girl."

The firing ceased when they sat down, as it was clearly a waste of
powder and ball continuing. Rupert from time to time looked over
the stern.

"The first boat is not more than fifty yards behind, the other
thirty or forty behind it. They gain on us very slowly, but I think
they will catch us."

"Then we must do our best, Rupert. We have each our pistols, and I
think we might begin to fire at the rowers."

"The pistols are not much good at that distance, sir. My idea is to
let them come alongside; then I will heave that cask of water down
into the boat, and there will be an end of it."

"That water cask!" the marquis said. "That is an eighteen gallon
cask. It is as much as we can lift it, much less heave it through
the air."

"I can do it, never fear," Rupert said. "You forget my exercises at
Loches, and as a miller's man.

"My only fear," he said in a low voice, "is that they may shoot me
as I come to the side with it. For that reason we had better begin
to fire. I don't want to kill any of them, but just to draw their
fire. Then, just as they come alongside put a cap and a cloak on
that stick, and raise them suddenly. Any who are still loaded are
sure to fire the instant it appears."

The marquis nodded, and they began to fire over the stern, just
raising their heads, and instantly lowering them. The boats again
began to fire heavily. Not a man in the boats was hit, for neither
of those in the lugger took aim. The men cheered, and rowed
lustily, and soon the boat was within ten yards of the lugger,
coming up to board at the side. Rupert went to the water barrel,
and rolled it to the bulwarks at the point towards which the boat
was making. The marquis stooped behind the bulwarks, a few paces
distant, with the dummy.

"Now!" Rupert said, stooping over the barrel, as the boat made a
dash at the side.

The marquis lifted the dummy, and five or six muskets were
simultaneously discharged. Then a cry of amazement and horror
arose, as Rupert, with the barrel poised above his head, reared
himself above the bulwarks. He bent back to gain impetus, and then
hurled the barrel into the boat as she came within a yard of the
side of the lugger.

There was a wild shout, a crash of timber, and in an instant the
shattered boat was level with the water, and the men were holding
on, or swimming for their lives. A minute later the other boat was
on the spot, and the men were at work picking up their comrades. By
the time all were in, she was only an inch or two out of the water,
and there was only room for two men to pull; and the last thing
those on board the lugger saw of her in the gathering darkness, she
was slowly making her way towards shore.

Now that all immediate danger was at an end, the marquis took the
tiller, and Rupert lifted the hatchway.

"The captain and two of the crew may come on deck if they promise
to behave well," he said.

There was a shout of laughter, and all the sailors pressed up,
eager to know how the pursuit had been shaken off. When Rupert told
them simply that he had tossed one of the water barrels into one of
the boats and staved it, the men refused to believe him; and it was
not until he took one of the carronades, weighing some five hundred
weight, from its carriage, and lifted it above his head as if to
hurl it overboard, that their doubts were changed into astonishment.

"I suppose our danger is not over, captain?" the marquis asked.

"No, we have the forts at the mouth of the river to pass, but we
shall be there before it is light. They will send off a horseman
when they get back to the town, but they will not be there for some
time, and the wind is rising fast. I hope we shall be through
before they get news of what has taken place. In any case, at the
speed we shall be going through the water in another hour or two,
no rowboat could stop us."

"I think, Captain Nicolay, it would be as well for you to keep only
as many men as you absolutely want on deck, so that you can say we
only allowed two or three up, and kept watch over you with loaded
pistols."

"It would be better, perhaps," Maitre Nicolay said. "There is sure
to be a nice row about it, and it is always as well to have as few
lies as possible to tell.

"Perhaps mademoiselle will like to go below. My cabin is ready for
her, and I have told the boy to get supper for us all."

The captain's prediction about the rising wind was correct, and in
another hour the Belle Jeanne was tearing down the river at a rate
of speed which, had the road from Nantes to the forts been no
longer than that by water, would have rendered the chance of any
horseman arriving before it slight indeed; but the river was
winding, and although they calculated that they had gained an hour
and a half start, Captain Nicolay acknowledged that it would be a
close thing. Long ere the forts were reached Adele was fast asleep
below, while her father and Rupert paced the deck anxiously.

The night was not a dark one. The moon shone out at times bright
and clear between the hurrying clouds.

"There are the forts," Maitre Nicolay said. "The prospect is
hopeful, for I do not see a light."

The hands were all ordered below as they neared the forts, Maitre
Nicolay himself taking the helm.

All was dark and silent as they approached, and as La Belle Jeanne
swept past them like a shadow, and all was still, a sigh of relief
burst from the marquis and Rupert. Five minutes later the wind
brought down the sound of a drum, a rocket soared into the air, and
a minute or two later lights appeared in every embrasure of the
forts on both sides.

"It has been a near thing," the marquis said; "we have only won by
five minutes."

Three minutes later came a flash, followed by the roar of a gun,
and almost at the same moment a shot struck the water, fifty yards
ahead of them on their beam.

"We are nearly a mile away already," the captain said. "It is fifty
to one against their crippling us by this light, though they may
knock some holes in our sails, and perhaps splinter our timbers a
little.

"Ah! Just what I thought, here come the chasse marees," and he
pointed to two vessels which had lain close under the shadow of the
forts, and which were now hoisting sail.

"It is lucky that they are in there, instead of cruising outside,
as usual. I suppose they saw the gale coming, and ran in for a
quiet night."

The forts were now hard at work, and the balls fell thickly around.
One or two went through the sails, but none touched her hull or
spars, and in another ten minutes she was so far away that the
forts ceased firing.

By this time, however, the chasse marees were under full sail, and
were rapidly following in pursuit. La Belle Jeanne had, however, a
start of fully a mile and a half.

"How do those craft sail with yours?" Rupert asked.

"In ordinary weather the 'Jeanne' could beat them, though they are
fast boats; but they are heavier than we are, and can carry their
sail longer; besides, our being underhanded is against us. It will
be a close race, monsieur. It will be too rough when we are fairly
out for them to use their guns. But the best thing that can happen
for us is that there may be an English cruiser not far off. I must
have the hands up, and take in some sail; she will go just as fast,
for she has too much on to be doing her best now we are in the open
sea.

"Now, gentlemen, I advise you to lie down for an hour or two. I
will call you if they gain much upon us."

It was morning before the voyagers awoke, and made their way on
deck. They looked round, but no sail was in sight, only an expanse
of foaming sea and driving cloud. The captain was on deck.

"I suspect they have given it up and run back," he said; "and no
fools either. It is not weather for anyone to be out who has a
choice in the matter. But the 'Jeanne' is a good sea boat, and has
been out in worse weather than this. Not but that it is a big gale,
but it is from the north, and the land shelters us a bit. If it
keeps on like this, I shall lie-to a few hours. The sea will be
tremendous when we get beyond Ushant."

For three days the gale blew furiously, and the "Jeanne" lay-to.
Then the storm broke, and the wind veered round to the south, and
La Belle Jeanne flew along on her way towards England.

It was at a point on the Hampshire coast, near Lymington, that she
was to run her cargo; and on the fifth day after leaving the river
she was within sight of land. They lowered their sails, and lay a
few miles off land until nightfall, and then ran in again. Two
lights on the shore, one above the other, told that the coast was
clear; and the boats were quickly lowered. The marquis, who had
come well provided with gold to meet all emergencies, handed over
to Maitre Nicolay fifty pounds over the sum agreed on, and in a few
minutes the travellers set foot on shore.

Six days later, a post chaise brought them to the door of
Windthorpe Chace, where Madame Holliday and the colonel stood on
the steps to welcome Rupert's future wife. The very day after their
return, Rupert mooted to the marquis the subject of an early
marriage, but the latter said at once:

"I must first take a place for Adele to be married from.
Mademoiselle Adele de Pignerolles must not be married like the
daughter of a little bourgeois. Moreover, Rupert, it is already
near the end of the year. In three months you will be setting out
to join your regiment again. It would be cruel to Adele for you to
marry her before the war is over, or until you at any rate have
done with soldiering. You tell me that you have gone through
enough, and that the next campaign shall be your last. At any rate
you can obtain a year's leave after nine years of campaigning. So
be it. When you return at the end of next year's campaign you shall
find all ready, and I will answer for it that Adele will not keep
you waiting. It is but a fortnight since you were affianced to each
other. You can well wait the year."

And so it was arranged, for Rupert himself saw that it would be
cruel to expose Adele to the risk of being made a widow after a few
weeks only of married life.

The winter passed very quietly and happily. The marquis was always
talking of taking a house, but Adele joined her voice with those of
the others in saying that it would be cruel indeed for him to take
her away from the Chace until it was time for Rupert to start for
the war again.

In the middle of March he received orders to join his regiment, as
large numbers of recruits had been sent out, and every officer was
required at his post.

During the winter of 1708, Marlborough had laboured strenuously to
obtain a peace which would satisfy all parties. Louis offered great
concessions, which the duke urged strongly should be accepted; but
the English and Dutch wanted terms so severe and humiliating that
Louis would not accept them, and both sides prepared for a great
final struggle.

The King of France addressed an appeal to his people, telling them
that he had offered to make the greatest possible sacrifices to
obtain peace for them, but that the enemy demanded terms which
would place France at their mercy. He therefore appealed to their
patriotism to come forward to save the country. The people
responded readily to the summons, and Marshal Villars took the
field in the spring with 110,000 men, a force just equal to that of
the allies.

The French had taken up a position of such extraordinary strength,
that it was hopeless for the allies to attempt to attack. His left
wing was covered by the stream of Roubaix; his centre by the marsh
of Cambriu; his right by the canal between Douai and Lille; and
this naturally strong position had been so strengthened by
artificial inundations, ditches, abattis, and earthworks, as to be
practically impregnable.

Marlborough and Eugene made, however, as if they would attack, and
Villars called to him as many men as could be spared from the
garrisons round. The allies then by a sudden night march arrived
before Tournai, and at once commenced its investment. Tournai was
an immensely strong town, but its garrison was weak. The heavy
artillery was brought up from Ghent, and on the 6th of July the
approaches were commenced; and on the 29th of that month, the
governor, finding that the allies were gradually winning fort after
fort, and that Villars made no movement to relieve him, surrendered
the town, and retired into the citadel, which was then besieged.

This was one of the most terrible sieges ever undertaken, for not
only were the fortifications enormously strong, but beneath each
bastion and outwork, and far extending beyond them, an immense
number of galleries had been driven for mines. At all times
soldiers, even the bravest, have found it difficult to withstand
the panic brought about by the explosion of mines, and by that
underground warfare in which bravery and strength were alike
unavailing, and where the bravest as well as the most cowardly were
liable at any moment to be blown into the air, or smothered
underground. The dangers of this service, at all times great; were
immensely aggravated by the extraordinary pains taken by those who
had constructed the fortifications to prepare for subterranean
warfare by the construction of galleries.

The miners frequently met underground, breaking into each other's
galleries. Sometimes the troops, mistaking friend for foe, fought
with each other. Sometimes whole companies entered mines by mistake
at the very moment that they were primed for explosion. They were
often drowned, suffocated with smoke, or buried alive. Sometimes
scores were blown into the air.

It was not surprising that even the hearts of the allied troops
were appalled at the new and extraordinary dangers which they had
to face at the siege of Tournai; and the bravest were indeed
exposed to the greatest danger. The first to mount a breach, to
effect a lodgment in an outwork, to enter a newly discovered mine,
was sure to perish. First there was a low rumbling noise, then the
earth heaved, and whole companies were scattered with a frightful
explosion.

On the 5th of August, a sally made by the besieged was bravely
repulsed, and the besiegers, pressing closely upon them, effected a
lodgment; but immediately a mine was sprung, and 150 men blown into
the air.

On the 20th, the besieged blew down a wall which overhung a sap,
and two officers and thirty-four soldiers were killed.

On the 23rd a mine sixty feet long and twenty feet broad was
discovered, just as a whole battalion of Hanoverian troops had
taken up their place above it. All were congratulating themselves
on the narrow escape, when a mine placed below that they had
discovered exploded, burying all in the upper mine in the ruins.

On the 25th, 300 men posted in a large mine which had been
discovered, were similarly destroyed by the explosion of another
mine below it; and the same night 100 men posted in the ditch were
killed by a wall being blown out upon them.

In resisting the attack upon one side of the fortress only,
thirty-eight mines were sprung in twenty-six days, almost every one
with fatal effect. It is no detriment to the courage of the troops
to say, that they shrank appalled before such sudden and terrible a
mode of warfare, and Marlborough and Eugene in person visited the
trenches and braved the dangers in order to encourage the men.

At last, on the 3rd of September, the garrison, reduced to 3000
men, surrendered; and were permitted to march out with the honours
of war, and to return to France on the promise not to serve again.

This siege cost the allies 5000 men.



Chapter 27: Malplaquet, and the End of the War.

During all the time that the allies had been employed upon the
siege of Tournai, Marshal Villars had laboured to form an
impregnable line of entrenchments, barring all farther advance.
Marlborough, however, a day or two previously to the fall of
Tournai, sent off the Prince of Hesse Cassel, who by a rapid and
most masterly march fell upon the French lines, at a part where the
French had no expectation of there being an enemy within thirty
miles of them. No opposition was made, and the prince marching
rapidly to the plateau of Jemappes, invested Mons on the French
side. The rest of the army followed. The effect caused throughout
France, and indeed through Europe, by the success of this masterly
movement, was immense; and it was evident that a great battle was
at hand.

Villars moved his army rapidly up. A detachment of Eugene's troops
were left to watch Mons, and the allied army, 93,000 strong,
advanced to meet them, and on the night of the 7th bivouacked in a
line three miles long, and five from that occupied by the French.
Marshal Villars had with him 95,000 men. The forces therefore were
as nearly as possible equal; but the allies had 105 guns, against
eighty of the French.

The position taken up by Villars was of great natural strength;
being a plateau, interspersed with woods and intersected with
streams, and elevated from a hundred and fifty to two hundred feet
above the meadowland of the Trouville, across which their
assailants must pass. Malplaquet stood on this plateau. On the
slopes from the plateau to the plain, the woods were extremely
thick, and the only access to the plateau, for troops, were two
clearings cut through the woods, known as the Trouees de la
Louviere, and d'Aulnoit.

On the morning of the 8th, when the French definitely took up their
position, Marlborough and Eugene were in favour of making an
instant attack, before the French could add to the great natural
strength of their position by entrenchments. The Dutch deputies,
however, were altogether opposed to an assault on so formidable a
front. Finally a compromise was adopted--a compromise which, as is
often the case, was the very worst course which could have been
adopted. The army should neither fall back, as the Dutch wished;
nor attack at once, as Marlborough desired. It was resolved not to
abandon the siege of Mons, and to attack the enemy if they would
not take the offensive; but to wait until Saint Ghislain, which
commanded a passage on the Haine, was taken; and until twenty-six
battalions on the march from Tournai arrived.

It was two days before these conditions were fulfilled; and Villars
had used these two precious days in throwing up a series of
immensely strong works. The heights he occupied formed a concave
semicircle, enfilading on all sides the little plain of Malplaquet,
and this semicircle now bristled with redoubts, palisades, abattis,
and stockades; while the two trouees, or openings, by which it was
presumed that the allies would endeavour to force an entrance, were
so enfiladed by cross batteries as to be well-nigh unassailable.
Half the French army by turns had laboured ceaselessly at the
works, during the two days which the cowardly folly of the Dutch
deputies had given them; and the result was the works resembled
rather the fortifications of a fortress, than ordinary field works.
Marlborough and Eugene had seen from hour to hour the progress of
these formidable works, and resolved to mask their front attack by
a strong demonstration on the enemy's rear. The troops coming up
from Tournai, under General Withers, were ordered not to join the
main army; but to cross the Haine at Saint Ghislain, and to attack
the extreme left of the enemy at the farm of La Folie. Baron
Schulemberg was to attack the left flank of the entrenchments in
the wood of Taisniere, with forty of Eugene's battalions, supported
by as many cannon; while Count Lottum was to attack the right flank
of the wood with twenty-two battalions. The rest of the army was to
attack in front; but it was from Eugene's attack in the wood of
Taisniere that success was chiefly hoped.

At three o'clock on the morning of the 11th the men were got under
arms, divine service was performed at the head of each regiment,
and then the troops marched to the posts assigned to them in the
attack. Both armies were confident, the French enthusiastic.

The allies relied on their unbroken series of victories. Never once
since the war begun had they suffered defeat; and with Eugene as
well as Marlborough with them, they felt confident of their power
to carry a position which, even to the eye of the least instructed
soldier, was yet formidable in the extreme.

The French were confident in being commanded by their best and most
popular generals, Villars and Boufflers. They were strong in the
enthusiasm which the king's appeal had communicated to the whole
nation, and they considered it absolutely impossible for any enemy
to carry the wonderful series of works that they had erected.

At half-past seven all was ready, and the fog which had hitherto
hung over the low ground cleared up, and the two armies came into
view of each other, and the artillery on both sides opened a heavy
fire. The whole line advanced; but the left was halted for awhile,
while Count Lottum, with his twenty-two battalions formed in three
lines, attacked the right of the wood of Taisniere; and
Schulemberg, with whom was Eugene himself, attacked their left.

Without firing a single shot, Schulemberg's men marched through the
storm of grape which swept them until within twenty paces of the
entrenchments, when the musketry fire of the French troops was so
terrible that the attacking columns recoiled two hundred yards;
where they were steadied, and brought back to the charge by the
heroic efforts of Eugene, who exposed himself in front of the line.

While this conflict was raging, some Austrian battalions which had
formed the extreme right of Schulemberg's corps, but had been
unable to advance, owing to a deep marsh, stole round unperceived
into the northeastern angle of the wood of Taisniere, and were soon
in conflict with the French. Lottum's division had, with immense
bravery, crossed a deep morass under a tremendous fire, and stormed
a portion of the entrenchments; but Villars, who was directly in
rear, led on a fresh brigade, who drove back the assailants.
Marlborough then charged at the head of d'Auvergne's cavalry, and
some of Lottum's battalion again forced their way in.

Meanwhile Withers was quietly making his way through the wood from
La Folie, and had made considerable progress before the French
could muster in force at this point. As this threatened the rear of
his front position, Villars fell back from the entrenchments in
front of the wood, and took up the second and far stronger position
he had prepared on the high ground.

On the left an even more desperate fight had been raging. The
Prince of Orange commanded here. The prince was full of courage and
impetuosity. The troops under him were Dutch, or auxiliaries in the
Dutch pay, among them a Scotch brigade under the Marquis of
Tullibardin. The corps advanced in the most gallant manner, the
Scotch and Dutch rivalling each other in bravery. Two lines of the
enemy's entrenchments were carried at the bayonet; and had there
been a reserve at hand, the battle would have been won at this
point.

But the prince had thrown his whole force into the attack, and his
forty battalions were opposed by seventy French battalions, while
the assailants were swept by the fire from the high ground.
Tullibardin and General Spau were killed, and the assailants,
fighting with extraordinary obstinacy, were yet driven back, with a
loss of 3000 killed and twice as many wounded. The French sallied
out to attack them, but the Prince of Hesse Cassel charged them
with his cavalry, and drove them back into their works.

The news of the terrible slaughter and repulse on the right brought
Eugene and Marlborough from the centre and left, where all was
going well. Reserves were brought up, and the battle restored.

News now came that Villars, alarmed at the progress made on his
left by Withers, had withdrawn the Irish brigade and some other of
his best troops from his centre, to drive back the allies' right.

Eugene galloped off with all haste to lead the right and hurry them
forward, while Marlborough directed Lord Orkney to attack the
weakened French centre with all his strength, and ordered the
cavalry to follow on the heels of the infantry. The fight on the
right was fierce indeed, for here Villars and Eugene alike led
their men. Both were wounded; Villars in the knee. He refused to
leave the field, but insisted on being placed in a chair where he
could see the battle and cheer on his men. The agony he suffered,
however, and the great loss of blood, weakened him so that at last
he fainted, and was carried off the field, the command devolving on
Marshal Boufflers.

Eugene was wounded in the head. In vain his staff pressed him to
retire in order that the wound might be dressed.

"If I am to die here," he said, "of what use to dress the wounds?
If I survive, it will be time enough in the evening."

So with the blood streaming over his shoulders, he kept his place
at the head of his troops, who, animated by his example and
heroism, rushed forward with such impetuosity that the works were
carried.

In the centre an even more decisive advantage had been gained. Lord
Orkney made the attack with such vigour, that the entrenchments,
weakened by the forces which had been withdrawn, were carried; and
the horse, following close behind, broke through the openings of
the works, and spread themselves over the plateau, cutting down the
fugitives. The guns in the works were wheeled round, and opened a
tremendous fire on the dense masses of the French drawn up behind
other parts of the entrenchments.

Thrown into confusion by the fire, the French began to waver, and
Marlborough gave the order for the great battery of forty guns in
the allied centre to advance. These advanced up the hill, passed
through the entrenchments, and opened a fire right and left upon
the French.

Although the French still strove gallantly, the battle was now
virtually over. The centre was pierced, the right turned, and
Boufflers prepared to cover the necessary retreat with his cavalry.
With 2000 picked horsemen of the royal horse guards, he charged the
allied cavalry when scattered and blown by their pursuit, and drove
them back; but was himself repulsed by the fire of Orkney's
infantry, and fell back, leaving half his force dead on the plain.

Again and again Boufflers brought up fresh cavalry, and executed
the most desperate charges to cover the retreat of his infantry,
who were now falling back along the whole line, as the Prince of
Orange, benefiting by the confusion, had now carried the
entrenchments on the French left. Boufflers formed his infantry
into three great masses, and fell back in good order in the
direction of Bavai.

Such was the victory of Malplaquet. A victory indeed, but won at
such a cost that a few more such successes would have been ruin.
The allies had gained the French position, had driven the enemy
from the field, and had prevented the raising of the siege of Mons,
the great object of the French; but beyond that their advantage was
slight, for the enemy retired in good order, and were ready to have
fought again, if attacked, on the following day.

The allies captured fourteen guns and twenty-five standards. The
French carried off thirty-two standards, principally Dutch. The
French lost 14,000 men in killed and wounded, the allies fully
20,000.

The French historians have done full justice to the extraordinary
bravery of the allied troops. One of their officers wrote after the
battle:

"Eugene and Marlborough ought to be well satisfied with us on that
day, since up to that time they had not met with a resistance
worthy of them. They may now say with justice that nothing can
stand before them; and indeed what should be able to stay the rapid
progress of those heroes, if an army of 100,000 men of the best
troops, strongly posted between two woods, trebly entrenched, and
performing their duty as well as any brave men could do, were not
able to stop them one day? Will you not then own with me that they
surpass all the heroes of former ages?"

The siege of Mons was now undertaken, and after a month's gallant
defence, fell, and the two armies then went into winter quarters,
there remaining now only the fortress of Valenciennes between the
allies and Paris.

Rupert Holliday was not present with the army at the siege of Mons.
He had distinguished himself greatly in the desperate cavalry fight
which took place upon the plateau after the British infantry had
forced their way in. More than once, fighting in front of his
regiment, he had been cut off and surrounded when the allied
cavalry gave way before the valiant charge of the French cavalry;
but each time his strength, his weight, and the skill with which he
wielded the long, heavy sword he carried, enabled him to cut his
way through the enemy's ranks, and to rejoin his regiment. He had
not, however, come off scatheless, having received several severe
sabre cuts. Hugh had also been wounded, and Rupert readily obtained
leave to retire to England to be cured of his wounds, the Duke of
Marlborough raising him to the rank of colonel on the field of
battle.

He had, during the campaign, received many letters from Adele, who
told him that the marquis had taken a house; but to each inquiry
that Rupert made as to its locality, she either did not answer the
question at all, or returned evasive answers. All he knew was that
she was staying at the Chace, and that the marquis was away, seeing
to the renovation of his house.

It was not until Rupert returned that he obtained the clue to this
little mystery. The Marquis de Pignerolles had bought the Haugh,
formerly the property of Sir William Brownlow, and intended the
estate as a dowry for Adele. The Pignerolles estate was indeed very
large; and two or three years of his savings were sufficient, not
only to purchase the estate, but to add to and redecorate and
refurnish the house.

Madame Holliday handed over to Rupert the title deeds of the whole
of the Windthorpe estate owned by her, as the income from her
savings was more than enough to maintain her at Windthorpe Chace.
One only condition the marquis exacted with the dowry, which was
that the combined estates should, after Rupert finally came into
possession of the Chace, be known not as the Haugh, but as
Windthorpe Chace.

"It was at Windthorpe Chace, my dear Rupert, that you first knew
and drew sword for Adele, and the name is dear to her as to you. It
is only right that I should unite the two estates, since I
prevented their union some ten years ago. I am in treaty now for a
small estate two miles on the other side of Derby, so that, until
the king either forgives me or dies, I shall be near you."

The wedding did not take place quite so soon as Rupert had hoped,
for his wounds were more severe than he had at first been willing
to allow, and it was not until the last week of the year that the
wedding took place.

For many years after the event the marriage of Rupert Holliday with
Mademoiselle de Pignerolles was talked of as the most brilliant
event which had taken place in the county of Derby during the
memory of man. The great Duke of Marlborough himself, and his
duchess, came down to be present at the ceremony. From Holland came
over Major Dillon, and four or five others of the officers of the
5th dragoons. Lord Fairholm was also there, and Hugh was not the
least welcome to Rupert of those assembled at the wedding.

Hugh was still a private, for although he could long ere this have
been a sergeant had he chosen, he had always refused promotion, as
it would have removed him from service as Rupert's orderly.

There was also present at the wedding a young Dutch lady engaged to
be married to Major Dillon, and her father. Rupert had written over
to say how glad he should be to see them at his marriage, but that
he could not think of asking them to come so far. Mynheer van Duyk
had, however, written to say that he and his daughter would
certainly come, for that regarding Rupert as a son it would be
extraordinary indeed for him to be absent. And so they arrived at
the Chace two days before the wedding, and on the morning before
going to church he presented Rupert with a cheque which simply
astounded the young soldier.

At first, indeed, he absolutely refused to accept it. The merchant,
however, insisted so strongly upon it--urging that his own wealth
was so large, that, as he had only Maria to inherit it, it was
really beyond his wants, or even his power to spend; and that he
had, ever since Rupert saved Maria from the attempts of Sir Richard
Fulke, which but for him must have succeeded, regarded him as his
adopted son--Rupert saw that his refusal would really give pain and
therefore, with warm gratitude, he accepted the cheque, whose value
exceeded that of the united estates of the Haugh and the Chace.
Maria brought a magnificent set of jewels for Adele--not indeed
that that young lady in any way required them, for the marquis had
had all her mother's jewels, which were superb, reset for the
occasion. They were married first at the Roman Catholic chapel at
Derby, for Adele was of course a Catholic, and then at the church
in the village of Windthorpe. After which there was a great dinner,
and much rejoicing and festivity at it.

Rupert Holliday went no more to the wars. He obtained leave to
reside on his estate for a year. That year, 1710, little was done
in Flanders. The duke's enemies at home had now gained the upper
hand, and he was hampered in every way. The allies, seeing that a
change of government was imminent in England, and that the new
party would in all probability make peace at any cost and leave
them to themselves, carried on quiet negotiations with France; and
so throughout the summer no great battle took place, although the
allies gained several material advantages.

In the following year envy, intrigue, and a woman's spite,
conquered. Godolphin fell, and the new ministry hastened to make
the most disgraceful peace recorded in the annals of the history of
this country. By it the allies of England were virtually deserted,
and the fruits of ten years of struggle and of victory for the most
part abandoned. Marlborough refused to sign the disgraceful peace
of Utrecht and, exiled and disgraced, lived quietly on the
continent until the death of Anne, a living monument of national
injustice. When George the First ascended the throne, the hero was
recalled, and remained the war minister of the country until within
a year or two of his death, honoured and loved by the people for
whom he had done so much.

There is little more to tell about Rupert Holliday. His grandfather
lived until past ninety years of age, and Madame Holliday died
suddenly a few weeks after her father in law. Rupert was now one of
the largest landowners in the country, and was one of the most
popular men. The home farm round the Chace was held for generations
by the Parsons, for Hugh married not many months after his master.

At the death of Louis, the Marquis de Pignerolles passed over again
to France, and there, at least when England and France were at
peace, Colonel Rupert Holliday and his wife paid him long visits.
As his daughter had married a foreigner she could not inherit the
estates, which went to a distant relation; but at the death of the
marquis, at a good old age, he left a fortune to his daughter,
which enabled her husband still further to extend his estates. Had
Rupert desired it, he could have been raised to the peerage, but he
preferred remaining one of the wealthiest private gentlemen in
England.

From time to time they received visits from Major Dillon and his
wife, both of whom were great favourites with the young Hollidays.
Between Rupert and Hugh a real affection prevailed all through
their lives, and the latter was never so happy as when the children
first, and, years after, the grandchildren, of Rupert and Adele
came down to the farm to eat cake, drink syllabub, and listen to
wonderful tales about the doings of the "Cornet of Horse."