of Rupert he embraced
him with affection.

"My friends," he said to the other officers, who were naturally
astonished at this sudden recognition between their prisoner and
their colonel, "gentlemen, this English officer is my very dear
friend. What kindness have I not received from his grandfather
during my time of exile! While to himself I am deeply indebted.

"What a fortunate chance, that if you were to have the bad luck to
be made prisoner, you should fall into my hands of all men. I wish
that I could let you go, but you know--"

"Of course, of course," Rupert said. "Really I am hardly sorry,
since it has brought us together again."

"Did you recognize my name?" the marquis said.

"No indeed," Rupert answered. "The letter which, we doubted not,
that you wrote to my grandfather, never came to hand, and we never
knew what Monsieur Dessin's real name was, so that Colonel Holliday
did not know to whom to write in France."

"I wrote twice," the marquis said, "but I guessed that the letters
had never arrived. And the good gentleman your grandfather, he is
still alive and well?"

"As well as ever," Rupert said, "and will be delighted to hear of
you.

"Mademoiselle is well, I trust?"

"Quite well, and quite a belle at the court, I can assure you," the
marquis said. "But there are the gates of Louvain. You will, of
course, give me your parole not to try to escape, and then you can
come straight to my quarters with me, and I need not report you for
a day or so. We shall be in fearful confusion tonight, for half our
army is crowding in here, and every one must shift for himself.

"Peste! What a beating you have given us! That Marlborough of yours
is terrible.

"I know some people here," he said, turning to the officers. "They
will take us four in, and the men must picket their horses in the
courtyard and street, and lie down in their cloaks. Tomorrow we
will see what is to be done, and how many have escaped from the
terrible debacle."

The streets of Louvain were crowded with fugitives, some of them
had thrown themselves down by the sidewalks, utterly exhausted;
others mingled with the anxious townsmen, and related the incidents
of the disastrous day; while the horses stood, with drooping heads,
huddled together along the middle of the street. It was only by
making long detours that the Marquis de Pignerolles reached the
house of which he was in search. Late as was the hour the inmates
were up, for the excite