“Let us go to them; these are the men-at-arms of the King’s guard,” said Fontrailles.  “I recognize them by their black cockades.  I see also many of the light-horse with them; let us mingle in the disorder, for I fancy they are ’ramenes’.”

This is a polite phrase signifying in military language “put to rout.”  All five advanced toward the noisy and animated troops, and found that this conjecture was right.  But instead of the consternation which one might expect in such a case, they found nothing but a youthful and rattling gayety, and heard only bursts of laughter from the two companies.

“Ah, pardieu!  Cahuzac,” said one, “your horse runs better than mine; I suppose you have exercised it in the King’s hunts!”

“Ah, I see, ’twas that we might be the sooner rallied that you arrived here first,” answered the other.

“I think the Marquis de Coislin must be mad, to make four hundred of us charge eight Spanish regiments.”

“Ha! ha!  Locmaria, your plume is a fine ornament; it looks like a weeping willow.  If we follow that, it will be to our burial.”

“Gentlemen, I said to you before,” angrily replied the young officer, “that I was sure that Capuchin Joseph, who meddles in everything, was mistaken in telling us to charge, upon the part of the Cardinal.  But would you have been satisfied if those who have the honor of commanding you had refused to charge?”

“No, no, no!” answered all the young men, at the same time forming themselves quickly into ranks.

“I said,” interposed the old Marquis de Coislin, who, despite his white head, had all the fire of youth in his eyes, “that if you were commanded to mount to the assault on horseback, you would do it.”

“Bravo! bravo!” cried all the men-at-arms, clapping their hands.

“Well, Monsieur le Marquis,” said Cinq-Mars, approaching, “here is an opportunity to execute what you have promised.  I am only a volunteer; but an instant ago these gentlemen and I examined this bastion, and I believe that it is possible to take it.”

“Monsieur, we must first examine the ditch to see—­”

At this moment a ball from the rampart of which they were speaking struck in the head the horse of the old captain, laying it low.

“Locmaria, De Mouy, take the command, and to the assault!” cried the two noble companies, believing their leader dead.

“Stop a moment, gentlemen,” said old Coislin, rising, “I will lead you, if you please.  Guide us, Monsieur volunteer, for the Spaniards invite us to this ball, and we must reply politely.”