"Oh! monseigneur," said Henri, sadly, seeing that this gayety hid a somber jealousy. "It is true, is it not, Aurilly?" continued the duke; "I return to France like Francois after the battle of Pavia; all is lost but honor. Ah! ah!" A sad silence received these laughs, more terrible than sobs. "Monseigneur," said Henri, "tell me how the tutelary genius of France saved your highness." "Oh! dear comte, the tutelary genius of France was occupied with something else, and I had to save myself." "And how, monseigneur?" "By my legs." No smile welcomed this joke, which the duke would certainly have punished with death if made by another. "Yes, yes," he continued; "how we ran! did we not, my brave Aurilly?" "Every one," said Henri, "knows the calm bravery and military genius of your highness, and we beg you not to distress us by attributing to yourself faults which you have not. The best general is not invincible, and Hannibal himself was conquered at Zama." "Yes, but Hannibal had won the battles of Trebia, Thrasymene, and Cannes, while I have only won that of Cateau-Cambresis; it is not enough to sustain the comparison." "But monseigneur jests when he says he ran away." "No, I do not. Pardieu! do you see anything to jest about, Du Bouchage?" "Could any one have done otherwise?" said Aurilly. "Hold your tongue, Aurilly, or ask the shade of St. Aignan what could have been done." Aurilly hung his head. "Ah! you do not know the history of St. Aignan. I will tell it to you. Imagine, then, that when the battle was declared to be lost, he assembled 500 horse, and, instead of flying like the rest, came to me and said. 'We must attack them, monseigneur.' 'What! attack?' said I; 'they are 100 to one.' 'Were they 1,000 to one, I would attack them,' replied he, with a hideous grimace. 'Attack if you please,' said I; 'I do not.' 'Give me your horse, and take mine,' said he: 'mine is fresh--yours is not; and as I do not mean to fly, any horse is good for me.' And then he took my white horse and gave me his black one, saying, 'Prince, that horse will go twenty leagues in four hours if you like.' Then, turning to his men, he cried, 'Come, gentlemen, follow me--all those who will not turn their backs;' and he rode toward the enemy with a second grimace, more frightful than the first. He thought he should have met men, but he met water instead, and St. Aignan and his paladins were lost. Had he listened to me, instead of performing that act of useless foolhardiness, we should have had him at this table, and he would not have been making, as he probably now is, a grimace still uglier than the first." A thrill of horror ran through the assembly. "This wretch has no heart," thought Henri. "Oh! why does his misfortune and his birth protect him from the words I long to say to him?"