Then I came to a halt, saying:  “Here we part; now you must depend on yourself for safety.”

He doffed his plumed hat.  “Monsieur,” he said, “the friends of Renaud L’Estang would laugh on being told he was at a loss for words; yet it is true.  I cannot express my gratitude; I can but pray that I may have an opportunity of proving it.  Good-bye!”

“Good-bye!” I replied, and when he had ridden some distance I returned thoughtfully to the city.

Felix, who was on duty at the hotel, looked at me curiously.  “Where have you been?” he asked.  “We expected you last night, and concluded you must have been detained on some special service.  I have been wearing myself to a shadow on your account!”

I made some commonplace excuse and left him, saying I was tired and wished to sleep; for, though I did not regret my action, I could hardly refrain from doubting its wisdom.

At first the incident occupied a large portion of my thoughts, but as the days passed into weeks the memory of it wore off.

Winter had set in, and we knew the campaign would not open until the spring of the next year.  It was a trying time; the cold was intense—­the oldest veteran had never known such a keen frost—­and much sickness broke out among the troops.  The good Admiral tended them with the devotion of a father, spending himself in their service, and we of his household were kept busy from morning till night.

In spite of every care, however, our losses were enormous, and the prospect became very gloomy.  Every one looked forward with eagerness to the coming of spring.

“If the winter lasts much longer,” said Roger Braund, one night when we had all met at my aunt’s house, “there will be no army left.”

“A little more patience,” my father exclaimed smilingly; “once the campaign begins you will have no cause to complain of inaction!”

“Faith,” laughed Felix, “if he rides with the Admiral, he will be regretting sometimes having left the comforts of Rochelle.”

“I shall probably do that,” said Roger, glancing at my sister, “even without the hard riding.”

“Then you are a caitiff knight and no true soldier,” I broke in hastily, for Jeanne was blushing furiously, and my comrade’s face had lost its merriment; “but, really, things are becoming serious; more than a score of men have died to-day!”

“Poor fellows!” said my mother tenderly; “if those who force us into these cruel wars could only realize the misery they cause!”

“I fear, madame,” remarked Roger, “that the suffering troubles them little, as long as they can gain their ends.”

About a week after this conversation there were signs that our long inactivity was drawing to a close.  The weather became far milder; the ice began to thaw, and it was possible for the soldiers to pass the nights in some degree of comfort.  Orders were issued to the various leaders, carts were collected and filled with stores, bodies of troops marched out from the city, and preparations for the campaign were actively pushed forward.