The light we had seen no longer wanted any explanation. Through the long perspective of the trees I saw the house and all its offices in one general blaze, while on the terrace, in front of the château, a small body of infantry appeared, drawn up in military array, contemplating the spectacle which their own hands had produced. We were at such a distance, and the noise in the neighbourhood of the burning building was so great, that the enemy neither saw nor heard our first entrance into the park, although the bright light in which they stood enabled us to remark their movements as well as if it had been day. I had at this time about eighty men with me, almost every one of them born in the neighbourhood; and well knowing what are the feelings of those who see the flame of warfare brought to their own homestead, I merely said, "Now, my men, if you have the feelings of men, follow me, to avenge your lord and your commander. You, Bourdon, lead your men round by the alley on the left, where they will not see you; I will take round by the right; and when we get to the sloping ground which leads up to the terrace, let us charge them on both flanks, and drive them into the flames they have kindled."
This plan was executed as soon as proposed. Bourdon, my lieutenant, led one half of the troop to the left of the terrace, at the same moment that I appeared on the other side; and though the enemy had by this time become aware of our approach, and received us with a severe fire of musketry, we charged them with all the determination of hatred and revenge, and cut them down almost to a man. At that moment, however, an event occurred, which, in the passion and heat of the circumstances, I had not at all anticipated. A much larger body of infantry than that which had occupied the terrace drew out from the court behind, and I had just time to recognise in their commander my old enemy, Gaspard de Belleville, when the word was given to fire. Ten or twelve of my men dropped round about me in a moment; a violent blow seemed to strike my right shoulder, and with a strange feeling of faintness I fell headlong from my horse. I made one ineffectual effort to rise; but as I did so, the terrace, the park, the conflict that was still going on, and the burning château, swam round and round before my eyes; the feeling of faint sickness increased more and more, and in another instant complete forgetfulness of everything came over me. Nearly two hours must have passed as I lay in this state; and when I recovered my senses, I found myself cast carelessly upon a baggage-wagon, stiff, bruised, and in great pain, though a number of bandages round my neck and shoulders showed me that I had been tended with some degree of care. It was still night, but there was a slight tinge of grey in the sky, which spoke that morning was not far distant, and by the noise of other wagons and the tramp of marching men, I judged that I was carried along with a retreating army. In the front part of the wagon, at a very short distance from me, sat a female figure, the countenance of which I could not distinguish in the darkness; but a groan breaking from my lips, as the jolts of the vehicle gave me a degree of agony indescribable, caused her to approach and take my head in her lap, adding a few words of comfort. The voice I recognised at once as that of Suzette, who had been the _servante_ of Madame de Villardin; but it was so changed in its tone, so low and sad, that I was almost led to doubt whether my ear had not deceived me. A feeling of abhorrence towards the woman--excited certainly more by my suspicions than by my knowledge--would have made me shrink from her, had it been possible. So weak, however, had I become, that I could neither move hand nor foot, and the pain of the attempt only called another groan from my bosom, which drew her attention still more towards me. Whether she had any particular motive in the care she took of me, or whether it sprung alone from that tender-heartedness which even the worst of women feel on beholding suffering and distress, of course I could not tell; but to do her but justice, she certainly tended me most kindly, and just as day was breaking, we found ourselves at the little town of Château Renard. Here she descended from the wagon, and was giving directions to the drivers to lift me gently into a little auberge, when Gaspard de Belleville himself, riding up at full speed, caught her by the shoulder, and giving her a rude shake, exclaimed, "Get up!--get up! You are not going to halt here!"--and then turning to the wagoners, he cursed them brutally for having paused at all, ordering them to make all speed onward towards Champagne.