“No,” said he, “no, I will be a martyr to the end.  Besides, is she not mistress of her own actions?  And, perhaps, she does not even know what fable was invented by Remy.  Oh, it is he alone that I hate; he who assured me that she loved no one.  But still let me be just.  Ought this man for me, whom he did not know, to have betrayed his mistress’s secrets?  No, no.  All that remains for me now is to follow this woman to the camp, to see her hang her arms round some one’s neck and hear her say, ‘See what I have suffered, and how I love you.’  Well, I will follow her there, see what I dread to see, and die of it; it will be trouble saved for the musket or cannon.  Alas!  I did not seek this; I went calmly to meet a glorious death, and I wished to die with her name on my lips.  It is not so to be; I am destined to a death full of bitterness and torture.  Well, I accept it.”

Then, recalling his days of waiting, and his nights of anguish before the inexorable house, he found that he was less to be pitied here than at Paris, and he went on.

“I will stay here, and take these trees for a shelter, and then I can hear her voice when she speaks, and see her shadow on the window.”

He lay down, then, under the willows, listening, with a melancholy impossible to describe, to the murmur of the water that flowed at his side.  All at once he started; the noise of cannon was brought distinctly to him by the wind.

“Ah!” said he, “I shall arrive too late; they are attacking Antwerp.”

His first idea was to rise, mount his horse, and ride on as quickly as possible; but to do this he must quit the lady, and die in doubt, so he remained.

During two hours he lay there, listening to the reports.  He did not guess that what he heard was his brother’s ships blowing up.  At last, about two o’clock, all grew quiet.

“Now,” thought Henri, “Antwerp is taken, and my brother is a conqueror; but after Antwerp will come Ghent, and then Bruges; I shall not want an occasion for a glorious death.  But before I die I must know what this woman wants in the French camp.”

He lay still, and had just fallen asleep, when his horse, which was grazing quietly near him, pricked up his ears and neighed loudly.

Henri opened his eyes.  The animal had his head turned to the breeze, which had changed to the southeast, as if listening.

“What is it, my good horse?” said the young man; “have you seen some animal which frightened you, or do you regret the shelter of your stable?”

The animal stood still, looking toward Lier, with his eyes fixed and his nostrils distended, and listening.

“Ah!” said Henri, “it is more serious; perhaps some troops of wolves following the army to devour the corpses.”

The horse neighed and began to run forward to the west, but his master caught the bridle and jumped on his back, and then was able to keep him quiet.  But after a minute, Henri himself began to hear what the horse had heard.  A long murmur, like the wind, but more solemn, which seemed to come from different points of the compass, from south to north.