“It will answer its purpose,” rejoined Bayard. “But I would it were destroyed.” “That is, were you with the army on the other side of the river. So do I. We ought to have crossed tonight. Why wait till morning?” “Ay, why?” cried Bayard, angrily. “Simply because the Admiral has so decided. He says the men are worn out, and must have repose. Methinks they could have rested at Gattinara. To-morrow may be too late.” “Let us hope not,” said De Lorges. “I do not think the enemy can have divined purpose.” “I think differently,” rejoined Bayard. “I believe that Bourbon is in hot pursuit of us.” “But you have no grounds for such belief?” said De Lorges, inquiringly. “None save the conviction that he will not let Bonnivet escape Well, if the Admiral chooses to indulge in false security, we cannot help it. For my own part, I am full of apprehension.” “It is not like you to feel uneasiness,” said De Lorges. “We shall laugh at such fears at this hour to-morrow.” “Who knows that either of us may be then alive!” ejaculated Bayard, gravely. “I do not think I shall. Not many minutes ago, as I was gazing at yon mighty mountains, a presentiment crossed me that I should never behold another evening.” “Shake off these melancholy thoughts!” cried De Lorges. “A long and glorious career awaits you.” “Alas! no,” replied Bayard. “I am prepared to meet the blow whenever it may come; but I cannot quit this fair world without some regret. Listen to me, De Lorges, and recollect what I am about to say to you. My uncle, Georges du Terrail, Bishop of Grenoble, who took charge of me during my infancy, thus admonished me: 'My child,' he said, in a tone and with a look which I can well remember, 'be worthy of your ancestors. Be noble, like the founder of our race, who fell at the feet of King John at the battle of Poitiers. Be valiant like your great-grandsire and your grandsire, both of whom died in arms--the first at Agincourt, the other at Montlhéry. Prove yourself the true son of your intrepid father, and my beloved brother, who fell covered with honourable wounds while defending his country.' Thus spake the pious and good Bishop of Grenoble, who loved me as a son. I have striven to follow his injunctions. I have sought to emulate the glorious deeds of my ancestors, and I have done no act that could be deemed unworthy of their name, I have prayed that I might not die on a bed of sickness, but on the battle-field, and I trust that Heaven will grant my prayer.” “I nothing doubt it, noble captain,” said De Lorges, deeply moved. “But may the day be far hence!”