“The more credit in digging him out!” laughed Felix.  “Don’t make Edmond more doleful; he is half afraid now of meeting with a second Jarnac.  De Pilles”—­the commander of our artillery—­“will soon batter down those walls, and a sharp rush will carry the hill.”

“’Tis a simple matter winning a battle—­in our minds,” laughed Roger, “but not always so easy in practice.  Monseigneur’s troops fought well enough at Jarnac.”

“Ah,” said Felix merrily, “they will fight well here, but we shall fight better!”

“Is an assault decided on?”

“No one knows,” I replied; “there is to be a meeting of the Council presently.  But I take it that we must attack.  Monseigneur has the advantage of us.  He can obtain provisions; we can’t.”

“And we aren’t likely to retreat!” exclaimed Felix.

“In that case we must go forward; but we shall hear the decision in an hour or two.”

The Council sat for a considerable time, while we of the Admiral’s household discussed the situation among ourselves.  There were various opinions given, the older men declaring Monseigneur was too strongly posted to be dislodged, the younger and more hot-headed making light of the danger.

At length the Council broke up, and, though nothing was actually disclosed, we soon became aware that Coligny had resolved on risking a battle.

“Bravo!” said Felix, as we went to our tent, “’twill be a pity if Roche Abeille does not make up for Jarnac!”

The bugle-call roused us at daybreak, and after a hasty breakfast we prepared for the fray.  It was a glorious summer morning, with only a few fleecy clouds dotting the blue sky.  The country was bathed in sunlight, and the green, leafy foliage of the numerous trees on our left made a delightful picture.  The waters of the little stream in our rear danced and sparkled, and the chorus of the birds made wondrous music.  Before long every feathered creature was flying hastily away in amazement and affright.

The army was drawn up in battle array, and the noble Coligny, serene and confident, rode along the lines.

“Soldiers!” he exclaimed, “the time has come.  The enemy are before us.  We must beat them or die.  Soldiers, if we lose this battle, the sacred Cause to which we have pledged our lives is overthrown.  Our religion will be destroyed, our wives and little ones slain, we ourselves shall go to the prison, the block, or the stake.  Soldiers, the safety of the Cause is entrusted to your arms!  I know you are worthy of the honour.”

A great cheer greeted these stirring words, a cheer that, echoing far and wide, sounded like a haughty challenge of defiance to the foe.

I had little to do but to watch the opening of the battle, and my heart beat fast as De Pilles, a rough and fearless fighter, went forward with his artilery.  Almost instantly the excitement became tense.

“He is into the marsh!” cried Felix.  “His guns are stuck fast!  He cannot get them out!  Ah, see, Monseigneur is launching his horsemen at them!”