“It is close at hand, De Lorges. I am sure of it,” said Bayard, in a tone that startled his hearer. “I dreamed last night that all my valiant ancestors appeared to me. I knew them, though I had seen none of them before, except my father, and his features had faded from my recollection. But I knew them all. Warlike phantoms they were. The Bishop of Grenoble, who has long been laid in the tomb, was with them. Their lips moved, but I could hear no words, and I vainly essayed to address them, for my tongue clove to my palate. But I could not mistake the meaning of their looks and gestures. The ghostly warriors gave me welcome, and the good bishop smiled upon me. I shall soon join them.” There was a pause. De Lorges was too much impressed by what he had heard to make a remark. “I have lived long enough,” pursued Bayard, breaking the silence--“too long, perhaps, for I ought to have died at Robecco. My chief regret in quitting the world is, that I have not done enough for my country.” “Then live!” cried De Lorges. “France can ill spare you.”... “My life is in the hands of my Maker,” rejoined Bayard, humbly. “I shall resign it cheerfully to Him who gave it--but I shall not throw it away. And now a word to you, my friend and companion-in-arms. I am the last of my line. I have no son to whom I can say, 'Live worthily of your ancestors,' but I can say to you, De Lorges, whom I love as a brother, Live, so that your name may be without reproach.” “I will try to do so,” replied the valiant captain, earnestly. “I am poor, as you know,” pursued Bayard, “for such money as I have won I have bestowed upon my soldiers, but if I fall, I bequeath you my sword--the sword with which I bestowed knighthood upon the king. Take it, and may it serve you as well as it has served me. Adieu!” And, without another word, he rode back to the camp, while De Lorges returned to his post. IX. THE RETREAT OF ROMAGNANO. As Bayard had conjectured, Bonnivet's departure from Novara had not escaped the vigilance of Bourbon, who immediately started in pursuit with the whole of the Imperial army. The march endured from early morn till late at night, when men and horses became so much fatigued, that a few hours' rest appeared indispensable. But Bourbon would not consent to a halt. “We are only a few leagues from Romagnano,” he said. “We must on.” “The enemy cannot cross the Sesia,” urged Pescara. “The river is flooded, and there is no bridge.” “A bridge of boats will enable them to cross,” said Bourbon. “I am certain Bonnivet will make the attempt to-night--or at daybreak, at latest. If we halt, we shall lose him.” “But the men need repose. They are dropping with fatigue,” urged the Duke of Urbino. “They shall rest after the battle,” rejoined Bourbon, peremptorily. “On! on!” So the army continued its march.