Still minute after minute passed away, and no one appeared. The impatience of De Montigni became extreme. "The battle will begin," he thought, "and I shall be absent. Disgrace and shame will fall upon me. Who will know of the King's commands? and men will say, I was within half a league of a stricken field, and kept aloof. I cannot bear this much longer. Ride out upon the top of the hill, Victor, towards the side of Annet, and see if you can perceive my uncle coming.--But hark! what is that?" As he spoke the loud boom of a distant cannon struck upon the ear; another and another succeeded, and then several shots still farther off were heard replying to the former. "It is begun," he said; "I can wait no more. Bring round my horse! Dearest Rose, I must go to see what is taking place. I will be back soon, my beloved," and he once more pressed her to his heart. "But the King's commands," said Rose; "He told you to wait here for your uncle. You ought not to go indeed, Louis." "There must be some mistake," he answered, "and I cannot stay here like a coward or a fool, while my King is fighting for his crown, and the fate of France is in the balance. I will be back speedily,--I will but see," and tearing himself away, he sprang upon his horse's back, followed by those, upon whom the lot to accompany him had fallen, and spurred up the hill at full speed. On the top he paused looking towards Annet. The whole country was open before his sight; but no body of men was to be seen, and hesitating no longer, he rode on till the plain of Ivry lay before his eyes, covered with squadrons and battalions of horse and foot, and presenting the wild, confused and busy scene of a field of battle. When he was gone, Rose d'Albret covered her eyes and for a few moments gave way to tears; but Helen de la Tremblade came round to where she stood, and laid her hand timidly upon her arm. Rose dashed away the drops from her eyes, at this mute appeal, saying, "No, Helen, no I will not doubt it! It were wicked, it were wrong, to think that God would so abandon us." "Besides, lady," said Helen, "Monsieur de Montigni is good and noble; you are virtuous and wise. Can such people ever be unhappy?" "Ah, my poor Helen," replied Rose d'Albret, "you reproach yourself too bitterly when the fault was his. Shamefully have you been used; and though God forbid that I should say you have not done wrong, yet I can well believe that, with such vows and promises, you fancied yourself his wife as much as if the priest had joined your hands. Perhaps," she added in her ignorance of man's nature, "perhaps, now that he has lost the hope of obtaining my estates, which was all he sought, he may make you his wife indeed, and deliver you from self-reproach." "That he can never do," replied Helen de la Tremblade; "I feel that I am a degraded being, lady, unworthy even of your kindness."