It may easily be supposed that de Lescure was anxious to see his wife, and that she was more than anxious to see him.

Henri also was not sorry to hear the praises of his valour sung by the sweet lips of Marie.

He stayed one short happy week at Clisson, basking in the smiles of beauty, and they were the last hours of tranquillity that any of the party were destined to enjoy for many a long sad day.

De Lescure's recovery was neither slow nor painful, and before the week was over, he was able to sit out on the lawn before the chateau, with one arm in a sling, and the other round his wife's waist, watching the setting of the sun, and listening to the thrushes and nightingales.

Every now and again he would talk of the future battles to be fought, and of the enemies to be conquered, and of the dangers to be encountered; but he did not speak so sadly of the prospects of his party as he did when he had only just determined to take up arms with the Vendeans.