At the end of that time the door of the room again opened, and Stuart was brought in. But oh, how changed he now appeared from the preceding night! He was wounded in two or three places, though not dangerously in any; yet the loss of blood had turned him very pale, and he walked with difficulty. But it was not so much in his colour or his gait that the change was remarkable; it was in the deep, profound melancholy that had fallen upon him. "I grieve to meet you here, Stuart," I said, shaking him by the hand. "And so I grieve for you, De Cerons," replied he. "I wish it had been God's will, De Cerons, that I had died three hours ago; but the villains would not kill me, though I refused them quarter and asked none myself. They knew better: they knew better." "But, good God!" I said, "They will never think of butchering their prisoners now?" "You do not know Henry of Anjou," replied Stuart. "But I know very well, De Cerons, that I have not long to live. Whether I speak him fair or not, there are things to be remembered which he will not forget. But, on your part, take my advice; if you see him, speak him fair, and perhaps you may save your life thereby. My day is done, De Cerons;" and, seating himself by the table, he leaned his brow upon his hand, and fell into deep thought. It length he started up again, saying, "If you should live and get free, De Cerons, remember the dagger. It is with my baggage, which I trust is safe; for these Catholic tigers, it is evident, have won but a fruitless victory. Yet my people, perhaps, may not give it up. Stay; if we can get materials for writing, I will make an acknowledgment that it is yours." And, rising, he knocked hard at the door, which was locked. One of the soldiers immediately came; but it was some time before Stuart could procure what he wanted. At length, however, it came; and in haste, but with great precision, he wrote down the acknowledgment and gave it to me. He had scarcely done so when we were ordered to march on towards Jarnac; and, under a small guard of soldiers, set out on foot for that place, which we reached shortly after dark. We were then conveyed to a small room on the ground floor of the castle, where some food was given to us, and a fire, for it was very cold. I had never been a prisoner before myself, but I had always seen the prisoners treated differently; and I could not but think that this long foot march of two wounded gentlemen was somewhat harsh. I noticed the fact to Stuart, who said, "It is not a sign of the times, De Cerons, but it is a sign of the Duke of Anjou. There is not another commander in France who would have treated noble prisoners as he has done this day. However, to me it matters little; my account with this world is made; and, as soon as I have taken some nourishment, for I feel faint, I must try and make my peace with God."