the instant my duties permitted I ran again into the street. They were
still in the same place, waiting.

"I thank God for this blessing, my son," said my mother. "I feared I had
lost you for ever. Let us hasten home; you are weary and faint."

"But are you not hurt, Edmond?" cried my pretty sister. "Oh, how my
heart ached at sight of those poor wounded men! They must have suffered
torture on their long march!"

"Did Jacques not find you?" my mother asked presently.

"Yes, he was with me at the beginning of the last battle, but I have not
seen him since. He may have escaped though, for all that; numbers
besides ourselves got away. Bellièvre is safe, and so is Roger Braund.
They have acted like heroes!"

"I saw them both," said Jeanne, blushing prettily; "Monsieur Braund has
been wounded."

"Yes," I replied laughing, "he will need a skilful nurse. But where is
my father? Is he not still in Rochelle?"

"No," said Jeanne with a sigh, "an order came from the Admiral three
weeks ago for him to take fifty men to St. Jean d'Angely. I know it is
selfish, but I wish Edmond, oh, I wish he could have stayed with us. It
seems to me there is no safety outside the walls of Rochelle."

"Rochelle may be as dangerous as any other place," I remarked, not
caring to let them know that Monseigneur was marching on St. Jean