“Very young; but I have had singularly good fortune, and have been happy enough to please both Marshal Turenne and the Duc d’Enghien.”

“And you have served under them both?” she said in surprise.

“I have had that good fortune.  I was with Turenne for nearly four years in Italy, and fought under Enghien at Rocroi, and I may say under both of them at Freiburg.”

“What is the name of your regiment, monsieur?”

“The Poitou regiment.”

“Indeed!” she exclaimed.  “Of course, we have heard all the particulars of the battle; and it was said that General Merci would have beaten Monsieur Turenne back had it not been for the Poitou regiment, commanded by a Scottish colonel, and said to be the finest under the command of the French generals.  They say it stood for three hours against the attacks of the whole Bavarian army.”

“We were in a strong position,” Hector said quietly, “at the mouth of a defile, so that no more than our own numbers could attack us at once.  However, l am proud of the conduct of my men; none could have fought more steadily than they did.”

“My husband was killed in the battle against Enghien’s army on the hill.  I am glad that it was not by your regiment, monsieur.”

“I am glad too, madam.”

“These wars are terrible, and we of Lorraine —­ lying between France and Germany —­ suffer whichever wins.  Fortunately we lie at a distance from the roads that the armies follow, and therefore have escaped the devastation caused all along the line of march.  Nevertheless we have the sadness of knowing that in the field neighbours must fight against neighbours, and kinsmen against kinsmen, for since the duke fled many of our nobles, seeing that the country has now become part of France, have joined her, while others, like my husband, followed the duke into Germany.  However, as an Irishwoman it matters little to me now which is the victor.”

“Do you think of returning home, madam?”

“As to that, I have not yet made up my mind.  The land there is as distracted as is France by civil war.  It is sixteen years since I left Ireland with my husband, a few months after our marriage.  I was an orphan, and have no near relations to whom I can go, therefore it matters little to me whether I live in France or Ireland, so that I can see some way of earning my own living and that of my daughter.  With economy, the sale of the silver would suffice to keep us for three or four years, and long before that I hope that I shall be able in some way to earn my living.”

Hector sat silent for two or three minutes.  “It seems to me, madam,” he said at last, “that it would be better that you should not spend the proceeds of your silver before looking for a post.  I can offer you one at once, if you will accept it.”

“You, monsieur!” she exclaimed in surprise.