On the day following the fall of Schlettstadt, while passing through a solitary street which was less encumbered by dead bodies, exploded bombs, cold shot, and fallen houses than other thoroughfares of the town, I met several groups of brawling soldiers, and found an Imperial cavalier, whose sword-arm had been broken and bound by a scarf, feebly defending himself with his poniard against five or six drunken Switzers of Lavalette's corps. Drawing my sword I drove them aside, but not until I had given one a slash across the face which cooled his ardour and alarmed his comrades. I then gave my hand to the wounded gentleman, on whose black cuirass I perceived the gilded cross of Malta, and recognised the hero of the defence. 'I was wounded by your stormers during the assault, monsieur, and concealed myself in a house, hoping that I might escape: but was discovered by these Switzers who were in search of beer and plunder. As I have now only to surrender, I yield my sword without shame, since it is given to one of the Garde du Corps Ecossais.' 'I thank you for the compliment, monsieur; but beg of you to retain your sword, and allow me to have your wound attended to.' 'Do, for pity sake--the agony I suffer is unspeakable; so much so that I did not at first recognise you, M. Blane. Do you not remember me?' I surveyed him attentively, and said, 'We have met in Paris, perhaps?' 'Nay, monsieur, have you forgotten the night you spent at the little chapel of St. Nicolas in the Wood, near Nanci, and the narrow escape you had from the ambush formed by Pappenheim and De Bitche?--Do you remember who visited you there?' 'René, the foster-brother of Marie Louise?' 'René, the knight of Malta--yes--I am he.' 'Pardon me, my kind friend, for amid the confusion of such scenes as those of yesterday and to-day, together with your change of costume, and your paleness, it is not surprising that I did not at first recognise you. Nanci was sacked?' 'And the ducal palace destroyed.' 'Where now is duke Charles?' 'Alas! we know not.' 'Vaudemont?' 'A fugitive with the remains of his garrison on the German side of the Rhine.' 'And--and mademoiselle? 'Dear Marie Louise!' exclaimed René, as his fine eyes filled with passionate enthusiasm, while his cheek grew, if possible, paler; 'she is now Madame la Duchesse d'Alsace.' It was now my turn to tremble and grow pale. 'Pardon me, M. René; but did I hear you aright?' 'Yes,' said he, casting down his melancholy eyes; 'she is now married--married within a week after Pappenheim, her betrothed and her abhorrence, was slain.' 'Married!' I reiterated in a whisper, for I could scarcely speak, 'to whom?' 'Monseigneur le Duc d'Alsace.' 'This duke is but a boy--a child!' 'True.' 'But this union is impossible!' 'Nothing of that kind is impossible to dukes and princes.'