Even if the Austrians disappeared from under the walls to-morrow it would be impossible to stir from the city in this utter severity of cold. M. de Vauvenargues saw that the generalship that had brought them to lie useless in Prague was as wrong as the policy that had offered assistance to Frederick of Prussia. He did not admire the war nor the causes that had brought it about; but he was merely one of thousands of pawns that had no choice as to where they stood. The wind was so insistently chill that he moved from his post overlooking the town and turned, still thoughtful, towards that portion of the rambling buildings of the Hradcany where his regiment was quartered. Before he reached it he met his colonel, M. de Biron, who caught hold of his arm rather eagerly. “A messenger from Paris,” whispered the Duke. “Came with letters to M. Belleisle--he has sent for M. de Broglie.” The second in command was not loved by the Maréchal; that they should be in consultation seemed to both the young officers as if the news from France must be serious. “When shall we know?” asked M. de Vauvenargues. “Not before the morning,” sighed the colonel. They entered the guardroom together: the chamber was full of the perfume of Virginian tobacco and pleasantly warm. Georges d’Espagnac was playing cards at a curious old table inlaid with ivory; his fair young face was flushed with warmth and animation and showed dazzling through the smoke wreaths. CHAPTER IV CARDINAL FLEURY’S BLUNDER Maréchal de Belleisle lay full length on a couch of saffron-coloured satin with his head raised on a pile of silk cushions. His room was one of the royal apartments in the Hradcany, and was most splendidly furnished with his own luxurious belongings: the floor was covered with a silk carpet; the walls hung with bright tapestry; the chairs were gilt and ash-wood; the many small tables held all manner of rich articles of gold, tortoiseshell, porcelain, and enamel, books richly bound, and caskets of sweets and preserved fruits. The light came entirely from crystal lamps suspended from gilt chains and supported by the ivory figures of flying cupids. A great clear fire burnt on the hearth, and near it was an ormolu writing-desk, on which were a few papers and a number of extravagant articles of gold and precious stones.