Events, however, calling for frequent and vigorous exertion, were multiplying so rapidly round his path, that he had but little time to give to matters of more remote interest. He occasionally thought of the youth, it is true, but more often grieved over the conduct of his cousin, and never ceased to ponder, with bitterness of heart, on the fate of Eugenie de Menancourt, and on his own feelings towards her. But still every hour brought some claim upon his attention of a different kind; and in the retreat of the royal army, which began two days after his page had left him, he had scarcely time for any other sensations than the anxiety and foresight attendant upon withdrawing a small and ill-supplied body of men from the presence of a powerful adversary. It was in the midst of the arrangements incident to such a retreat, that, at the first halting place on the march, Monsieur de Sancy came into the small room in which St. Real was seated at Mantes, exclaiming--"I have news for you, Monsieur de St. Real! Your cousin has already secured the recompense at which he aimed in quitting us. He was married last night to Mademoiselle de Menancourt, the rich heiress of Maine. I have it from one who was in Paris at the time." St. Real made no reply; but he turned so deadly pale, that De Sancy could not but observe that something had gone amiss, and instantly strove to turn the conversation into another channel. CHAPTER XXII. It was toward that hour in the evening, at which the rays of twilight that linger behind the rest of the lustrous retinue of day are called away from the sky, and our hemisphere is given over to the absolute rule of night--it was at that hour, too, which is more important, when the joyous denizens of the gay capital of France, after having sunned themselves through the long afternoon of a summer's day in the gardens and highways, were in those times wont to retire each to his individual home, to enjoy such dainties as the bounty of nature and the skill of his cook had prepared for the last meal of the evening. It was about nine o'clock, then, on a night in August, when, the streets of Paris being nearly deserted by every one else, a strong troop of horsemen assembled in the little square, nearly opposite to the dwelling of Eugenie de Menancourt.