“Agatha,” said he, having walked up to the fire-place, and leaning with his arm upon the mantle-piece, “Agatha, tomorrow I start for Saumur.”

He was dressed very point-de-vice; the frills of his shirt were most accurately starched; his long black hair was most scrupulously brushed; his hands were most delicately white; his boots most brilliantly polished; he appeared more fit to adorn the salon of an ambassador, than to take a place as a warrior beneath the walls of a besieged town.  Adolphe was always particular in his dress, but he now exceeded himself; and he appeared to be the more singular in this respect at Durbelliere just at present, as the whole of the party except himself women included, had forgotten or laid aside, as unimportant, the usual cares of the toilet.

“You, at any rate, go in good company, Adolphe,” said Agatha, attempting to smile.  “May you all be successful, and return as heroes—­heroes, indeed, you are already; but may you gather fresh laurels at Saumur.  I am sure you will.  I, for one, am not in the least despondent.”

“Yes, Agatha, I shall go to Saumur, determined at any rate not to lose there any little honour I may yet have won.  If I cannot place the white flag of La Vendee on the citadel of Saumur, I will at any rate fall in attempting it.”

“I am very sure, that if you fail, it will not be for lack of courage, or of resolution.  You and Henri, and M. de Lescure and our good friend Cathelineau, have taught us to expect victory as the sure result of your attempts.”

“Ah!  Agatha, one word from your lips, such as I long to hear, would make me feel that I could chain victory to my sword, and rush into the midst of battle panoplied against every harm.”

“Your duty to your King should be your best assurance of victory; your trust in your Saviour, your panoply against harm; if these did not avail you, as I know they do, the vain word of a woman would be of little service.”

“You speak coldly, Agatha, and you look coldly on me.  I trust your feelings are not cold also.”

“I should have hoped that many years of very intimate acquaintance between us, of friendship commenced in childhood, and now cemented by common sympathies and common dangers, would have made you aware that my feelings are not cold towards you.”

“Oh no! not cold in the ordinary sense.  You wish me well, I doubt not, and your kind heart would grieve, if you heard that I had fallen beneath the swords of the republicans; but you would do the same for Cathelineau or M. de Bonchamps.  If I cannot wake a warmer interest in your heart than that, I should prefer that you should forget me altogether.”

Agatha began to fear that at this rate the interview would have no end.  If Adolphe remained with his arm on the marble slab, and his head on one side, making sentimental speeches, till she should give him encouragement to fall at her feet, it certainly would not be ended by bed-time.  She, therefore, summoned all her courage, and said,