"Halt," cried a stentorian voice. The troop halted. The Bastard of Burgundy bent his brow gloomily on Denys: "How now, arbalestrier, how comes it thy face is turned southward, when every good hand and heart is hurrying northward?" Denys replied respectfully that he was going on leave, after some years of service, to see his kindred at Remiremont. "Good. But this not the time for't, the duchy is disturbed. Ho! bring that dead soldier's mule to the front; and thou mount her and forward with us to Flanders." "So please your highness," said Denys, firmly, "that may not be. My home is close at hand. I have not seen it these three years and, above all, I have this poor youth in charge; whom I may not, cannot leave, till I see him shipped for Rome." "Dost bandy words with me?" said the chief, with amazement turning fast to wrath. "Art weary o' thy life? Let go the youth's hand, and into the saddle without more idle words." Denys made no reply: but he held Gerard's hand the tighter, and looked defiance. At this the bastard roared, "Jarnac, dismount six of thy archers, and shoot me this whitelivered cur dead where he stands--for an example." The young Count de Jarnac, second in command, gave the order, and the men dismounted to execute it. "Strip him naked," said the bastard, in the cold tone of military business, "and put his arms and accoutrements on the spare mule. We'll may be find some clown worthier to wear them." Denys groaned aloud, "Am I to be shamed as well as slain?" "Oh, nay! nay! nay!" cried Gerard, awaking from the stupor into which this thunderbolt of tyranny had thrown him. "He shall go with you on the instant. I'd liever part with him for ever than see a hair of his dear head harmed. Oh sir, oh, my lord, give a poor boy but a minute to bid his only friend farewell! he will go with you. I swear he shall go with you." The stern leader nodded a cold contemptuous assent. "Thou, Jarnac, stay with them, and bring him on alive or dead.--Forward!" And he resumed his march, followed by all the band but the young count and six archers, one of whom held the spare mule. Denys and Gerard gazed at one another haggardly. Oh! what a look! And after this mute interchange of anguish, they spoke hurriedly, for the moments were flying by. "Thou goest to Holland: thou knowest where she bides. Tell her all. She will be kind to thee for my sake." "Oh, sorry tale that I shall carry her! For God's sake go back to the 'Tête d'Or.' I am mad." "Hush! Let me think: have I nought to say to thee, Denys? my head! my head!" "Ah! I have it. Make for the Rhine, Gerard! Strasbourg. 'Tis but a step. And down the current to Rotterdam. Margaret is there: I go thither. I'll tell her thou art coming. We shall all be together." "My lads, haste ye, or you will get us into trouble," said the count firmly, but not harshly now. "Oh, sir, one moment! one little moment!" panted Gerard.