Esmond quitted the army almost immediately after this, following his general home; and, indeed, being advised to travel in the fine weather and attempt to take no further part in the campaign.  But he heard from the army, that of the many who crowded to see the Chevalier de St. George, Frank Castlewood had made himself most conspicuous:  my Lord Viscount riding across the little stream bareheaded to where the Prince was, and dismounting and kneeling before him to do him homage.  Some said that the Prince had actually knighted him, but my lord denied that statement, though he acknowledged the rest of the story, and said:—­“From having been out of favor with Corporal John,” as he called the Duke, “before his Grace warned him not to commit those follies, and smiled on him cordially ever after.”

“And he was so kind to me,” Frank writ, “that I thought I would put in a good word for Master Harry, but when I mentioned your name he looked as black as thunder, and said he had never heard of you.”

CHAPTER II.

I go home, and harp on the old string.

After quitting Mons and the army, and as he was waiting for a packet at Ostend, Esmond had a letter from his young kinsman Castlewood at Bruxelles, conveying intelligence whereof Frank besought him to be the bearer to London, and which caused Colonel Esmond no small anxiety.

The young scapegrace, being one-and-twenty years old, and being anxious to sow his “wild otes,” as he wrote, had married Mademoiselle de Wertheim, daughter of Count de Wertheim, Chamberlain to the Emperor, and having a post in the Household of the Governor of the Netherlands.  “P.S.,” the young gentleman wrote:  “Clotilda is older than me, which perhaps may be objected to her:  but I am so old A RAIK that the age makes no difference, and I am determined to reform.  We were married at St. Gudule, by Father Holt.  She is heart and soul for the good cause.  And here the cry is Vif-le-Roy, which my mother will join in, and Trix too.  Break this news to ’em gently:  and tell Mr. Finch, my agent, to press the people for their rents, and send me the RYNO anyhow.  Clotilda sings, and plays on the Spinet beautifully.  She is a fair beauty.  And if it’s a son, you shall stand godfather.  I’m going to leave the army, having had ENUF of soldering; and my Lord Duke recommends me.  I shall pass the winter here:  and stop at least until Clo’s lying in.  I call her old CLO, but nobody else shall.  She is the cleverest woman in all Bruxelles:  understanding painting, music, poetry, and perfect at cookery and PUDDENS.  I borded with the Count, that’s how I came to know her.  There are four Counts her brothers.  One an Abbey—­three with the Prince’s army.  They have a lawsuit for an IMMENCE fortune:  but are now in a Pore way.  Break this to mother, who’ll take anything from you.  And write, and bid Finch write AMEDIATELY.  Hostel de l’Aigle Noire, Bruxelles, Flanders.”