CHAPTER XII
OUT-MANŒUVRED
Captain George was not the only soldier of France whom
a visit to the Hôtel Montmirail affected that morning with
the slighter and premonitory symptoms of fever, such as
dry mouth, irregular pulse, and a tendency to flush without
physical exertion. While the Musketeer was visiting his
outposts in anything but a warlike frame of mind, his former
general was working his temper up to a state of nervous
irritation more trying than usual to the valets and other
domestics of his household. The Prince-Marshal busied
himself to-day with preparations for his grand attack, and,
contrary to the whole practice of his lifetime, in the event
of failure, had made no disposition for retreat.
He felt, indeed, a good deal more agitated now than when he led a forlorn-hope of Black Musketeers at twenty, an exploit from which he came off with three flesh wounds and a broken collar-bone, owing to the usual mistake of too short a scaling-ladder; but he consoled himself by reflecting how this very agitation denoted that the fountain of youth was not yet dried up in his heart.
He rose early, though he could not decently present himself at the Hôtel Montmirail for hours to come. He stormed and swore because his chocolate was not ready, though he hardly tasted it when it was served, and indeed broke his fast on yolk of egg and pounded sugar, mixed up with a small glass of brandy.
This stimulating refreshment enabled him to encounter the fatigue of dressing, and very careful the veteran was to marshal his staunch old forces in their most imposing array.
