“Come, monsieur,” he said, “you are good in council, as we have already discovered; to-morrow we shall know if you are good in action.” “And I,” said the marshal, “what am I to do?” “Wait here to receive the troops. I shall either return for them myself or shall send a courier directing you to bring them to me. Twenty guards, well mounted, are all that I shall need for my escort.” “That is very few,” said the marshal. “It is enough,” replied the prince. “Have you a good horse, Monsieur de Bragelonne?” “My horse was killed this morning, my lord, and I am mounted provisionally on my lackey’s.” “Choose for yourself in my stables the horse you like best. No false modesty; take the best horse you can find. You will need it this evening, perhaps; you will certainly need it to-morrow.” Raoul didn’t wait to be told twice; he knew that with superiors, especially when those superiors are princes, the highest politeness is to obey without delay or argument; he went down to the stables, picked out a pie-bald Andalusian horse, saddled and bridled it himself, for Athos had advised him to trust no one with those important offices at a time of danger, and went to rejoin the prince, who at that moment mounted his horse. “Now, monsieur,” he said to Raoul, “will you give me the letter you have brought?” Raoul handed the letter to the prince. “Keep near me,” said the latter. The prince threw his bridle over the pommel of the saddle, as he was wont to do when he wished to have both hands free, unsealed the letter of Madame de Longueville and started at a gallop on the road to Lens, attended by Raoul and his small escort, whilst messengers sent to recall the troops set out with a loose rein in other directions. The prince read as he hastened on. “Monsieur,” he said, after a moment, “they tell me great things of you. I have only to say, after the little that I have seen and heard, that I think even better of you than I have been told.” Raoul bowed. Meanwhile, as the little troop drew nearer to Lens, the noise of the cannon sounded louder. The prince kept his gaze fixed in the direction of the sound with the steadfastness of a bird of prey. One would have said that his gaze could pierce the branches of trees which limited his horizon. From time to time his nostrils dilated as if eager for the smell of powder, and he panted like a horse. At length they heard the cannon so near that it was evident they were within a league of the field of battle, and at a turn of the road they perceived the little village of Aunay. The peasants were in great commotion. The report of Spanish cruelty had gone out and every one was frightened. The women had already fled, taking refuge in Vitry; only a few men remained. On seeing the prince they hastened to meet him. One of them recognized him. “Ah, my lord,” he said, “have you come to drive away those rascal Spaniards and those Lorraine robbers?” “Yes,” said the prince, “if you will serve me as guide.”