oor mother. She has need of all my consolation. I renounce forever my
ill-fated attachment. Heaven, for its own wise purposes, has chosen to
afflict me. Farewell, baron; I thank you for your kindness--your
generous friendship. You and Heloise will soon learn that Henri de
Montmorenci is no more. After the next battle, if you seek me out, you
will find me where the French dead lie thickest on the field."

"Noble-hearted fellow!" cried the baron, when Henri had left him. "He
ought to be a field marshal."

"Marshal Saxe requests your immediate presence, baron," said an
aide-de-camp, presenting himself with a salute.

"Monsieur de Baron," said the commander-in-chief, when De Clairville
had obeyed the summons, "I have chosen you to carry my despatches to
the king; you will find yourself honorably mentioned therein, and I
think the favor of royalty will reward your merit."

The baron bowed low as he received the despatches from the hand of the
marshal, and was soon ready for the journey, first taking a hasty
farewell of his daughter, whom he commended to the care of Madame de
Grandville, (or rather Montmorenci,) during his absence.

In five days thereafter, he reported himself to the marshal, and was
then at liberty to attend to his private concerns. He found Heloise in
the company of Henri and his mother, and the gloom depicted on their
countenances presented a singular contrast to the radiant joy that
sparkled in the eyes and smiled on the lips of the genial and
warm-hearted old soldier. He kissed his daughter, saluted Madame de
Grandville, and then, shaking the young guardsman warmly by the hand,
exclaimed,--

"Good news, Henri; I bring you a budget of them. The king has heard of
your gallantry, and inquired into your story."

"Heaven bless him!" exclaimed the mother.

"The memory of your father," continued the baron, "has been vindicated
by a parliamentry decree affirming his innocence. His forfeited
estates are restored to his family; and I bring you, under the king's
seal, your commission as full colonel in the French Guards, and
letters patent of nobility, _Count_ Henri de Montmorenci!"

Henri and his mother were nearly overwhelmed by this good news; while
Heloise clung to her father's arm for support.

"No fainting, girl," said the happy baron. "That will never do for a
soldier's wife. Here, take her, count, make her happy--and let us hear
no more of your volunteering on Forlorn Hopes--at least, during the