“All faithful hearts with me!” cried out Winter.
This voice was heard by the two friends, who set off, full gallop.
“No quarter!” cried a voice in French, answering to that of Winter, which made them tremble.
As for Winter, at the sound of that voice he turned pale, and was, as it were, petrified.
It was the voice of a cavalier mounted on a magnificent black horse, who was charging at the head of the English regiment, of which, in his ardor, he was ten steps in advance.
“‘Tis he!” murmured Winter, his eyes glazed and he allowed his sword to fall to his side.
“The king! the king!” cried out several