buffeting the dead, and profitless also. And if his fiery temper did,
indeed, bring about the mischance, he exerted himself as a gallant
gentleman to retrieve his error.

By great good fortune, as it appeared afterwards, I had carried my
despatch safely to Cognac, and was now, after spending a night in the
town, riding along the bank of the Charente in the direction of
Angoulême. I had not encountered any of Anjou's troopers, though at
Cognac it was strongly rumoured they were in the neighbourhood.

The day was cold and somewhat cloudy, the sun shining out only at
intervals, and there was a suspicion of rain in the air. Partly to
restore the circulation, and partly to ease my horse--for we were
ascending a hill--I had dismounted, and was walking briskly along at the
animal's side.

From the brow of the hill I had a clear view of the wide plain
stretching before me. Huddled together in one corner was the cluster of
houses forming the village of Jarnac, where I intended to break my
journey. Presently, however, I caught sight of something which put all
thought of food and rest out of my head. A body of cavalry had halted on
the plain. Some of the men were lying down, some drinking from the
brook, but scouts were stationed at a distance from the main body to
give warning of any hostile approach.

"This is either Anjou or Condé," I thought, "and in any case it is
necessary to discover which."

Still leading my horse, I crept down the hill, and advanced some
distance across the plain, ready directly danger threatened to mount and