"I will treat it with all honour and distinction, my lord," I replied, smiling: "I will carry it with me into the very next field where I am likely to meet your army, and there Monsieur de Martigues may take it if he have the will and the power." "I shall tell him so, I shall tell him so," replied the duke. "We shall have the days of chivalry revived again. But we must waste no more daylight, Monsieur de Cerons, for we shall but have light enough to get back to the camp." At this hint I immediately went back, and telling Louise who it was that had come to meet her, I dismounted from my horse, and led her forward by the bridle-rein. Good old La Tour and the rest followed at a little distance, giving us an opportunity of passing those few last moments alone. We said nothing, however, as we went on. Her hand rested for a moment in mine; our eyes looked long and speakingly into each other's; and thus we went on till we approached the Duc de Montpensier, who, dismounting also, took a step forward to meet his fair charge. He asked her some courteous question of no great import as he approached, but Louise could not answer; her voice was choked, her eyes were full of tears. The duke looked to me as if for an explanation. I had none to give, and felt that the best way was to withdraw as soon as possible. "Louise," I said, approaching as close as I could, and speaking in a low voice, "Louise, my beloved, adieu! God be with you, and protect you, and give you courage, and give you strength." Louise bent down over her jennet, let her arm drop over mine, and her weeping eyes fell upon my shoulder. After a moment she made an effort and raised her head, saying, "Adieu, Henry, adieu!" As she did so our lips met, and, turning hastily away, I quitted a scene that was becoming too much for me in every respect. Ere I had taken ten steps, however, some one touched me on the arm. It was the young Prince de la Roche,[2] the Duke of Montpensier's son, who held out his hand to me, and grasped mine, saying, "We shall meet again, Monsieur de Cerons, we shall meet again." CHAPTER XIV. It may well be conceived that the first few miles of my return were travelled without any particular observation on my part of the objects around me. Moric Endem was not with me to call my attention to this thing or that, and to inspire me with the same remarking and commenting spirit as himself; and, busy with the thoughts and feelings of my own bosom, I rode on, seeing, perhaps, the things that I passed with the mere corporeal eye, but with the communication between the organ of sight and the reasoning brain altogether cut off for the time.