"Oh! most kind," answered Helen de la Tremblade; "Mademoiselle d'Albret is an old and generous friend--better alas! than I deserve; but it is for her sake I have come hither, not my own." "Ha! How is that?" asked Chasseron; "has anything happened? Are they not married?--Pardi. I thought they would lose no time. Yet I saw the young Baron in the field. He may have been wounded? He is not in the list of killed." He spoke so rapidly, that Helen had not time to answer anything he said, before something new was uttered. When he paused, however, she replied, "No! Oh, no! He is not killed; but he is a prisoner which is--or may be worse." "Parbleu! that is unfortunate!" cried her companion. "He was one of those, I suppose, who ventured too rashly forward in the town of Ivry. Yet I saw him not there; and I was not far behind myself." "It was not there he was taken," answered Helen; and, as briefly as possible--for she saw that Chasseron, though wishing to show her every kindness, was in haste--she recapitulated all that had occurred on the banks of Eure, since she had been placed in the farm-house. The stout soldier shut his teeth, which were as white as snow, upon his grizzled moustache; and then murmured, "They are unlucky folks! Poor things! To Chartres, did you say? Ventre Saint Gris! something must be done for them.--Well, well, that may be set to rights." These words seemed more the out-pourings of what was passing in his own mind, than addressed to his fair companion; but the moment after, he turned to her, saying, "I have some small influence here; and I will not fail to use it for Monsieur de Montigni. He once came to my aid, fair lady, when life or death hung upon the event of a moment. He has since served the King to the best of his ability, and the King should show himself grateful. Doubtless he will, and he shall not fail to know the facts. Then it will not be impossible to exchange, against Monsieur de Montigni, some prisoner in his hands." "But they fear the Duke of Nemours will send back Mademoiselle d'Albret to Marzay," said Helen; "and then--and then--" "What then?" asked Chasseron, quickly. "Oh! I see," he continued; "They will force her into a wedding with Nicholas de Chazeul; as dishonest a rogue as ever used the pretence of religion to cover base designs. He shall not have her!--Pardi, he shall not have her if I have any say in the matter." Helen turned pale, and trembled, but she replied not; and her companion added, after a moment's thought, "Well! that shall be cared for, too, as far as I am able.--What was it you said about our good old friend the Commander? Dead, did you say? Why, he fell not on the field!" "No," answered Helen in a subdued tone, "He died last night of his wounds."