A tear rose to de Lescure's eye, which none but his wife could mark: he
knew that his friend's kind wishes were vain; that he had now,
personally, no hope except in death; and he could not entirely repress
a vain regret that he might live to witness the success of his party,
of which, since his sojourn in Laval, he had taught himself to be
sanguine.
It was but a moment before the tear was gone, and his eyes were again
on fire with enthusiasm. "Ah, de Bauge--good de Bauge!" he exclaimed,
as a friend of his early youth passed by, using at the moment every
effort to repress the wild clamouring hurry of his followers. "God
prosper thee, dear friend! Oh, that we now had but a score or two such
soldiers as thou art!"
"We have many hundreds here as good," said de Bauge, pausing a moment
from his work to salute the friends whom he recognized at the window.
"Thousands perhaps as brave, thousands as eager, if they did but know
how to use their courage," answered de Lescure.
After this there was a lull for a few moments, and then a troop of
cuirassiers trotted down the street, jingling their bridles, swords, and
spurs as they moved.
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