A tear--a burning tear of despair and rage--rolled down the admiral's swarthy cheek. In a few hours the people, discouraged anew by this last calamity, would demand in loud tones that the place be surrendered; and even were they not to make such a demand, Gaspard de Coligny no longer deceived himself with the hope that with troops so exhausted and demoralized as his, the first assault would not open the gates of St. Quentin and of France to the Spaniards. And surely the assault would not be long in coming, and the signal for it would probably be given as soon as day broke, if not even at once during the darkness, while these thirty thousand men, bursting with pride over the slaughter of three hundred, were still drunk with their magnificent exploit. As if to confirm Coligny's apprehensions, Du Breuil, the governor of the town, uttered the word _alerte_ in his ear in a stifled voice; and as he turned toward him, he pointed out a body of men in the moat, dark and noiseless, who seemed to be marching out of the darkness toward the postern. "Are they friends or foes?" asked Du Breuil, in a low voice. "Silence!" whispered the admiral; "let us be on our guard in any event." "How can they make so little noise?" said the governor. "I seem to see horses, and yet there is not a sound, and the very earth seems deadened beneath their steps! Really, they seem like phantoms!" The superstitious Du Breuil crossed himself as a precautionary measure; but Coligny, grave and thoughtful, carefully watched the dumb black mass without fear and without sign of emotion. When the new-comers were hardly fifty paces away, Coligny himself mimicked the cry of the osprey. The hoot of the owl replied. Thereupon the admiral, beside himself with joy, rushing to the guard at the postern, ordered it to be opened immediately; and a hundred horsemen, enveloped, men and beasts, in ample black cloaks, rode into the town without a sound. Then it could be seen that the hoofs of the horses, which beat so softly upon the ground, were wrapped in pieces of cloth filled with sand. It was due to their adoption of this expedient, which was suggested to them only when the two other detachments had been betrayed by the noise they made, that the third party had succeeded in making their way in unobstructed; and the man who had thought of this expedient, and who was in command of the party, was no other than Gabriel. It was a small matter, no doubt, this reinforcement of a hundred men; but it would suffice to keep the two threatened positions defended for a few days, and, above all, it was the first happy circumstance of this siege, which had been so fruitful in disasters. The news of such good augury went through the town like the wind. Doors were thrown open, windows illuminated, and universal acclamations welcomed Gabriel and his men as they passed. "No, no!--no rejoicing," said Gabriel, gravely and sadly. "Remember the two hundred poor fellows who fell down there."