Madame de Condé was at her window awaiting the return of the volunteers. Sprung as she was from a family of warriors, wife of one of the greatest conquerors in the world, and brought up to look with scorn upon the rusty armor and absurd headgear of the militia, she could not restrain a feeling of uneasiness as she thought that those same citizens, her partisans, had gone out to contend against a force of old, well-disciplined soldiers. But there were three considerations from which she derived some comfort: in the first place, Monsieur de La Rochefoucauld was in command; in the second place the Navailles regiment had the right of the line; in the third place, the name of Condé was inscribed upon the banners. But every one of these considerations, which gave the princess ground for hope, was the source of bitter grief to Madame de Cambes; even so did everything that grieved the illustrious dame become a source of triumph to the viscountess. The Duc de La Rochefoucauld was the first to make his appearance, covered with dust and blood; the sleeve of his black doublet was torn open, and there were spots of blood upon his shirt. "Is this true that I hear?" cried the princess, darting to meet him. "What do you hear, madame?" he asked, coolly. "That you were repulsed." "You have not heard the whole, madame; to put it frankly, we have been beaten." "Beaten!" cried the princess, turning pale; "beaten! it isn't possible!" "Beaten!" murmured the viscountess; "beaten by Monsieur de Canolles!" "How did it happen, I pray to know?" demanded Madame de Condé, in a freezing tone eloquent of her bitter indignation. "It happened, madame, as all miscalculations happen, in play, in love, in war; we attacked those who were more clever or stronger than ourselves." "Pray is this Monsieur de Canolles such a gallant fellow?" queried the princess. Madame de Cambes' heart throbbed with delight. "Oh! _mon Dieu!_" replied La Rochefoucauld with a shrug, "not more so than another! But as he had fresh soldiers, stout walls, and was on the lookout for us, having probably received warning of our attack, he had the advantage of our good Bordelais. Ah! madame, let me remark parenthetically that they are sorry soldiers! They ran away at the second volley." "And Navailles?" cried Claire, heedless of the imprudence of such a demonstration. "Madame," replied La Rochefoucauld, "the only difference between Navailles and the militia is that the militia ran away, and Navailles fell back." "The only thing we lack now is to lose Vayres!" "I don't say that we shall not," retorted La Rochefoucauld, coolly. "Beaten!" exclaimed the princess, tapping the floor with her foot; "beaten by upstarts, commanded by a Monsieur de Canolles! the very name is absurd." Claire blushed to the whites of her eyes.