"No," replied the old Commander abruptly, "'tis no use. This is my last field, Marlot, and, the sooner I go, the better. I am fit for nothing now. I could scarce sit my horse in the battle, though I did drive my sword through that fellow on Aumale's right hand. But it's all over; and I shall soon go, too. No use of being tortured by the surgeons. I've had enough of them.--No; but I will tell you what you shall do. Go and seek for Louis; though that is most likely vain, also.--Why the fiend did he go to the field without arms? Yet, Ventre Saint Gris! I love the boy for it too. But he never can have escaped from that _mêlée_.--He is dead, so there is nothing worth living for." Helen had refrained hitherto from telling him that his nephew was in captivity, as well as Rose d'Albret, for fear of weighing him down, in his weak state, under the load of misfortune; but now, seeing that his apprehensions for his nephew's fate, had a more terrible effect, than even the reality could produce, she said, "No, Sir, he is not dead. They have carried him away too, with Mademoiselle d'Albret!" "Ha! girl, ha! Are you not lying?" demanded the wounded man. "No, indeed," replied Helen, "it is the truth. The farmer's wife saw them a moment ago." "Well, then, seek a surgeon," said the old man; "I will try to live, though it is idle, I think.--Look for Estoc, too. Where saw you him last?" "He was in full pursuit with the Grand Prior, Sir," answered one of the men. "I saw him take the red standard of the Count of Mansveldt," replied another. "That's well, that's well," said the old commander, "take means to let him know where I lie. Then bring a surgeon if you will. They shall do with me what they like. Will you be my nurse, little Helen?" he continued, extending his hand towards her. "That I will, if I may," replied Helen kneeling by the bedside and kissing the large bony hand he had held out. "Well, get me a cloak or something," said the old man, "to cast over my feet, for I feel very cold. Then come, sit down and talk to me; and you fellows go away and get your dinner. It must be noon by this time." "'Tis one o'clock, Sir," answered one of the men. "Get your dinner, get your dinner," cried the Commander. "I have no heart to eat, Sir," said the one nearest to him, "seeing you lying there." "Poo!" exclaimed his master, "did you never see an old man die before? I have seen many; and they will die, whether you eat your dinner or not. Leave this young lady to tend me; dine, and, if you will, say a paternoster for my sake. That's the best you can do to help me, though you are good creatures, too, and love me well, I know,--as I love you. But we must all part, and my march is laid out."