The next day witnessed one of those terrible encounters, whose
sanguinary prints make a more indelible impression on the page of
history than the records of the more generous deeds of peaceful life.
The greatest gallantry was displayed on both sides, and on the part of
the French no officers were more distinguished for their valor than
the two guardsmen whose encounter on the previous evening we have just
related. Raoul de St. Prix, in the early part of the engagement, fell
sword in hand at the head of his company, thus meeting with honor a
fate he had earnestly desired. Henri de Grandville, in the course of
the day, found himself in command of the regiment, every officer of
higher rank having fallen. When the carnage had ceased, he laid a
stand of captured colors at the feet of the commander-in-chief, and
was complimented by Marshal Saxe at the head of the army, receiving
assurance that his gallantry should be at once reported to the king.

Flushed with triumph, the young guardsman flew to the presence of his
mother, to receive her embrace and recount in modest terms the story
of his deeds. She rejoiced in his safety, and sympathized with his
joy. But all at once, as he made her the confident of other hopes, and
enlarged on the prospect of his speedy union with Heloise de
Clairville, her countenance changed, and her eyes became suffused with
tears.

"Dear Henri," said she, "I knew nothing of this. Why did you not
sooner apprise me of this fatal passion?"

"Fatal passion, dear mother! Why do you thus characterize the love I
bear to the purest, the most beautiful of her sex?"

"She is, indeed, all that you paint her, Henri; but you must learn the