'To-night! You should rather say this morning. See, the moon grows pale already--and this thought?' 'Is to have Pappenheim killed or taken; for in either case Marie Louise will be freed from his obtrusive attentions.' 'If both fail?' 'Then I shall get myself killed.' 'Zounds! nay,' replied the Viscount; 'were I in your predicament, I should as soon think of hanging myself (like a certain Grecian blockhead when rebuked by Pythagoras) as of throwing away my life in battle. Life is a precious commodity, and we never know what a day may bring forth.' 'True,' said I. 'And the hand of Mademoiselle de Lorraine, deprived as her father is of land, fortune, rank, and authority, is no longer an object of gain to Pappenheim, or to any but such a Quixote as you.' 'But he is not the man to relinquish, without a struggle, a bride so beautiful and so nobly born.' 'We shall see.' The order to form squadron, manoeuvre, executed from the rear at a rapid trot, cut short further conversation. De Brissac's dragoons formed four squadrons of double troops; we formed _one_, and were in their front about two hundred paces. The country around us seemed open; the moon had sunk behind the hills. A grove of trees in the valley before us, with a red light or two from a watchfire, marked the locality of the enemy, whose bivouac, disposition, and arrangements were explained to the Marquis, our leader, by a burgher of Zaberne, who acted as our guide; and who, as he had purposely misled us, received his fee, and vanished ere the fray began; for by this traitor the Counts Pappenheim and De Bitche had been duly informed of our intended attack, and had thus formed a counter-plan for cutting the whole of us off; though we had fully believed that nine hundred regular French cavalry were fully equal to the task of dissipating a thousand Walloon militia. CHAPTER LXIII. THE AMBUSH.