"It will be odd if I cannot snatch a sword and hew down three to go with Tavannes! And Bigot, he will see my lord the Marshal by- and-by; and as I do to the priest, the Marshal will do to Montsoreau.

Ho! ho! He will teach him the _coup de Jarnac_, never fear!" And the old man's moustaches curled up ferociously.
Count Hannibal's eyes sparkled with joy.

"Old dog!" he cried--and he held his hand to the veteran, who brushed it reverently with his lips--"we will go together then! Who touches my brother, touches Tavannes!" "Touches Tavannes!" Badelon cried, the glow of battle lighting his bloodshot eyes.

He rose to his feet.

"Touches Tavannes! You mind at Jarnac--" "Ah! At Jarnac!" "When we charged their horse, was my boot a foot from yours, my lord ?" "Not a foot!" "And at Dreux," the old man continued with a proud, elated gesture, "when we rode down the German pikemen--they were grass before us, leaves on the wind, thistledown--was it not I who covered your bridle hand, and swerved not in the _melee_ ?" "It was! It was!" "And at St.Quentin, when we fled before the Spaniard--it was his day, you remember, and cost us dear--" "Ay, I was young then," Tavannes cried in turn, his eyes glistening.