had understood
everything. The enemy was marching upon Lens, with the intention,
doubtless, of securing possession of that town and separating from
France the army of France. But in what force was the enemy? Was it
a corps sent out to make a diversion? Was it an entire army? To this
question De Guiche could not respond.

Now, as these questions involved matters of gravest consequence, it
was these to which the prince had especially desired an answer, exact,
precise, positive.

Raoul conquered the very natural feeling of timidity he experienced and
approaching the prince:

"My lord," he said, "will you permit me to hazard a few words on that
subject, which will perhaps relieve you of your uncertainty?"

The prince turned and seemed to cover the young man with a single
glance; he smiled on perceiving that he was a child hardly fifteen years
old.

"Certainly, monsieur, speak," he said, softening his stern, accented
tones, as if he were speaking to a woman.

"My lord," said Raoul, blushing, "might examine the Spanish prisoner."

"Have you a Spanish prisoner?" cried the prince.

"Yes, my lord."

"Ah, that is true," said De Guiche; "I had forgotten it."

"That is easily understood; it was you who took him, count," said Raoul,
smiling.

The old marshal turned toward the viscount, grateful for that praise of
his son, whilst the prince exclaimed:

"The young man is right; let the prisoner be brought in."

Meanwhile the prince took De Guiche aside and asked him how the prisoner
had been taken and who this young man was.

"Monsieur," said the prince, turning toward Raoul, "I know that you have
a letter from my sister, Madame de Longueville; but I see that you have
preferred commending yourself to me by giving me good counsel."

"My lord," said Raoul, coloring up, "I did not wish to interrupt your
highness in a conversation so important as that in which you were
engaged with the count. But here is the letter."

"Very well," said the prince; "give it to me later. Here is the
prisoner; let us attend to what is most pressing."

The prisoner was one of those military adventurers who sold their blood
to whoever would buy, and grew old in stratagems and spoils. Since he
had been taken he had not uttered a word, so that it was not known to
what country he belonged. The prince looked at him with unspeakable
distrust.

"Of what country are you?" asked the prince.

The prisoner muttered a few words in a foreign tongu