“But what of your prisoner?” he asked.  “Has he given his parole?”

“No, I fancy he is rather counting on the chance of escape.”

“Then he must be placed under guard.  I will attend to it, and return in a few minutes.  Well, Jacques, has your master been very troublesome?”

“Not since we left Limoges, monsieur.”

We were preparing to look for Roger when the bugles sounded, the men sprang to arms, and orders were issued for the retreat to be resumed.

“I don’t like this,” grumbled Felix, “it breaks the men’s spirits.  Our rearguard came running in to-day like a parcel of sheep.  I wish the Admiral would fight; it will be too late after a while.  It is not pleasant to be chased as if we were rabbits.”

The royalists were in full view now, and the faster we marched the more closely they pressed the pursuit.  It was very galling, and many a murmur was heard even against our noble leader, but none from those who rode with him in the rear.  Twice we turned and faced the enemy, but, on each occasion, after a few minutes’ conflict the order was issued for further retreat.

At length we reached the summit of a gentle slope, behind which flowed the River Dive.  Here it seemed as if the Admiral intended to make a stand, but the royalists gave him little leisure for forming plans.  They advanced boldly, taunting us for runaways, and bidding us muster sufficient courage to cross swords with them.

A volley from our German foot-soldiers checked their rush, and, while they were endeavouring to re-form, a body of horse crashed, as if shot from a gun, into their left flank.  The noble St. Cyr, erect and soldierly, in spite of his four score and five years, led the charge, and a rousing cheer broke from us at sight of the gallant veteran.

But there was little time for cheering.  “Charge, my children!” cried the Admiral, “charge, and strike home!  For the Faith!”

“For the Faith!” we echoed lustily, spurring our horses, and dashing into the fray.

Hammered by St. Cyr on the left, by the Admiral in front, by the young princes on the right, the royalist horse reeled and staggered.  Again and again they tried to rally; but we rode them down, broke the groups as soon as they re-formed, drove them pell-mell on to their infantry, and then with one grand rush tumbled the whole division into ruin.

“Forward!  Forward!” cried the hot-bloods.  “Remember Jarnac!” “Remember Conde!” “Cut them down!”

But a wild pursuit formed no part of the Admiral’s plans; he wished to cross the river unmolested, so the bugles were sounded, and we came dropping back, laughing and cheering, and in high spirits at our brilliant little victory.  As with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes we ranged ourselves around our brave leader some one cried out, “See, what is going on over yonder!”

In a corner of the field, some distance off, a number of royalists had rallied round a flag.  Something strange was happening; the flag disappeared, came into view again, and once more sank from sight.  Then in one spot the crowd gave way as if burst asunder, and out from the gap leaped a horseman.  He was carrying the flag, and he rode straight toward us.  A dozen men started in pursuit, but he outdistanced them easily, turning from time to time and waving the flag as if in derision.