Then he came a step nearer, scanning my face.
"Surely, surely, Monsieur," he exclaimed before Andrea had time to answer him.

"Were you not at Rocroi ?" "Your memory flatters me, Monsieur," I replied with a laugh.

"I was indeed at Rocroi--captain in the regiment of chevaux-legers whereof you were Mestre de Champ." "His name," said Andrea, "is Gaston de Luynes, my very dear friend, counsellor, and, I might almost say, protector." "Pardieu, yes! Gaston de Luynes!" he ejaculated, seizing my hand in an affectionate grip.

"But how have you fared since Rocroi was fought?
For a soldier of such promise, one might have predicted great things in ten years." "Helas, Monsieur! I was dismissed the service after Senlac." "Dismissed the service!" "Pah!" I laughed, not without bitterness, "'t is a long story and an ugly one, divided 'twixt the dice-box, the bottle, and the scabbard.

Ten years ago I was a promising young captain, ardent and ambitious; to-day I am a broken ruffler, unrecognised by my family--a man without hope, without ambition, almost without honour." I know not what it was that impelled me to speak thus.