'Hush, _M. l'Abbé_--we are observed.' 'Then let us retire.' They rose abruptly and withdrew; but this unguarded conversation convinced me more than ever that the famous Princess Marie Louise of Lorraine was living concealed in Paris; that the mistress of the King was betraying both him and Richelieu, and, being a Lorrainer, was in the interest of Duke Charles and his people. 'Comrades, excuse me for a minute,' said I, and followed these Lorrainers, whom I found in the act of receiving their swords from the tapster, and mounting their horses, which were strong and active nags, accoutred with valises and holster-pistols. 'Monseigneur,' said I, saluting the Prince, 'I have discovered you; indeed I must have been blind or mad, had I failed to do so.' 'Hola! upon my soul, 'tis our very good friend, M. Blane of Garde Ecossais!' said the Chevalier, with as much surprise as if he had not been observing me for an hour past. 'Well, sir?' 'Retire--leave our vicinity; this espionnage is not honourable, and you trust me too far.' 'Ah! you begin to threaten us--eh?' 'If, in one hour hence, I find you near our cantonments, by Heaven, messieurs, I will denounce you both to the Duke de la Lavalette!' 'Mort de tout les diables! he _does_ threaten us, Chevalier,' said the Prince, haughtily. 'Very well, M. Blane, I command my father's troops at Bitche, the first town upon the Alsatian frontier; you will find me there in other guise than that of an abbé.' 'And if you pass Bitche with bones unbroken, and come the length of La Mothe,' added the Chevalier, 'you will find _me_ there, with my helmet on, my young soldier. I shall then be at the head of Duke Charles's old steel crabs, whose claws are sharp enough, believe me--and so till then, adieu, my dear Garde Ecossais.' 'Adieu, messieurs,' said I, and we separated with cold salutes. They galloped away, and I rejoined my three companions, who were singing vociferously an old Scottish rant, and becoming more jolly than ever, over the sparkling wine of Champagne. CHAPTER XIX. THE CAMPAIGN IN ALSACE. Our next day's march brought us to Vitry le Francois, a walled town, built of wood. Here we crossed the Marne; the cavalry by a ford, the infantry and artillery by boats and floats; and here a singular episode occurred.