"My son," he said, "give me your word as a gentleman not to stir until I call you." "Why, father!" cried Mario in dismay, "you talk to me just as Aristandre did a little while ago, and treat me like a baby in arms! Are these the lessons in honor and gallantry you give me to-day, when you----" "Silence, monsieur, and obey!" said the marquis, speaking to his beloved son for the first time in an imperious tone. "You are not old enough yet to fight, and I forbid it!" Great tears came to the child's eyes. The marquis looked away to avoid seeing them, and leaving Mario in charge of a small reserve force of his faithful servants, he hastened to join Guillaume d'Ars, who had succeeded in reducing his forces to order and submission. "It is quite useless," said the marquis, "to try to force the _huis_; two men can hold it for an hour unless we choose to sacrifice a score of our own men. Ah! cousin, it is all very well to fortify the _entrances_ to the château, but it is extremely inconvenient when you want to get in yourself. The moat is fifteen feet deep at this point, and the bank is so steep, you see, that swimmers cannot land without being shot down from the _moucharabi_. Do you know what we must do? Look! The barn has fallen in. Well, it must have fallen into the moat and partly filled it. That is where we must force our way in. I will go there with my people. Do you stay here as if you were looking for boards and timbers to replace the drawbridge, which is hoisted, to mislead the enemy, whom you will prevent from escaping when we fall upon him. We, my friends," he said to his servants, "will steal quietly along behind the wall; its shadow will conceal us, notwithstanding the bright fire that is consuming our crops." The marquis's plan was very judicious, and what he foresaw had actually taken place. The moat was partly filled up and the wall crushed by the fall of the barn. But it was necessary to pass over blazing débris and through billows of flame and smoke. The horses recoiled in fright. "Dismount, my friends, dismount!" cried the marquis, riding forward at a gallop into that hell. Rosidor alone plunged fearlessly into it, leaped all the obstacles with marvellous agility, and, heedless of the risk of scorching his beautiful mane and the ribbons with which it was tressed, gallantly bore his master into the centre of the enclosure. The marquis's luxuriant hair was in no danger. It was still reposing under the firewood at the _Geault-Rouge_. His servants, already intensely wrought up by the desire to rejoin and rescue or else to avenge, their families, were electrified by their master's courage, and several of them followed him closely enough to prevent his falling into the hands of the enemy. But just as the bulk of the party were passing over the red-hot ruins, a shout of alarm uttered by one of the peasants of whom the party consisted, caused all the rest to halt and rush back in deadly terror.