“Good, brother; now, is this all?”

“All! but promise me once more, Henri, you are not deceiving me—­you will not seek death?”

“No, brother; I had that thought when I came to join you, but I have it no longer.”

“And when did it leave you?”

“Three hours ago.”

“On what occasion?”

“Excuse me, brother.”

“Of course, Henri, your secrets are your own.”

“Oh! how good you are, brother!”

And the young men, once more embracing each other, separated with smiles.

CHAPTER LXXII.

The expedition.

Henri, full of joy, hastened to Diana and Romy.

“Get ready; in a quarter of an hour we set out,” said he.  “You will find two horses saddled at the door of the little wooden staircase leading to this corridor:  join my suite and say nothing.”

Then, going out on the balcony, he cried: 

“Trumpet of the gendarmes, sound the call.”

The call was quickly heard, and all the gendarmes ranged themselves round the house.

“Gendarmes,” said Henri, “my brother has given me, for the time, the command of your company, and has ordered me to set out to-night to obtain provisions and information as to the movements of the enemy, and one hundred of you are to accompany me; the mission is dangerous, but necessary for the safety of all.  Who are willing to go?” The whole three hundred offered themselves.

“Gentlemen,” said Henri, “I thank you all; you have rightly been called the example to the army, but I can but take one hundred; and as I do not wish to choose, let chance decide.  Monsieur,” continued he, to the ensign, “draw lots, if you please.”

While this was being done, Joyeuse gave his last instructions to his brother.

“Listen, Henri,” said he; “the country is drying, and there is a communication between Courteig and Rupelmonde; you will march between a river and a stream—­the Scheldt and the Rupel.  I trust that there will be no necessity for you to go as far as Rupelmonde to find provisions.  My men took three peasants prisoners; I give one of them to you for a guide—­but no false pity! at the least appearance of treason shoot him without mercy.”

He then tenderly embraced his brother, and gave the order for departure.  The one hundred men drawn by lots were ready, and the guide was placed between two, with pistols in their hands, while Remy and his companion mixed with the rest.  Henri gave no directions about them, thinking that curiosity was already quite sufficiently aroused about them, without augmenting it by precautions more dangerous than salutary.  He himself did not stay by them, but rode at the head of his company.  Their march was slow, for often the ground nearly gave way under them, and they sank in the mud.  Sometimes figures were seen flying over the plain; they were peasants who had been rather too quick in returning to their homes, and who fled at the sight of the enemy.  Sometimes, however, they were unlucky Frenchmen, half dead with cold and hunger, and who in their uncertainty of meeting with friends or enemies, preferred waiting for daylight to continue their painful journey.