apolitan officers. On the 30th of April, 1524, some
disorder took place in the retreat of the French; and Bonnivet, being
severely wounded, had to give up the command to the Count of St. Pol and
to Chevalier Bayard. Bayard, last as well as first in the fight,
according to his custom, charged at the head of some men-at-arms upon the
Imperialists, who were pressing the French too closely, when he was
himself struck by a shot from an arquebuse, which shattered his reins.
"Jesus, my God," he cried, "I am dead!" He then took his sword by the
handle, and kissed the cross-hilt of it as the sign of the cross, saying
aloud as he did so, "Have pity on me, O God, according to Thy great
mercy" (Miserere mei, Deus, secundum magnam misericordiam tuam);
thereupon he became incontinently quite pale, and all but fell; but he
still had heart enough to grasp the pommel of the saddle, and remained in
that condition until a young gentleman, his own house-steward, helped him
to dismount and set him down under a tree, with his face to the enemy.
The poor gentleman burst into tears, seeing his good master so mortally
hurt that remedy there was none; but the good knight consoled him gently,
saying, "Jacques, my friend, leave off thy mourning; it is God's will to
take me out of this world; by His grace I have lived long therein, and
have received therein blessings and honors more than my due. All the
regret I feel at dying is that I have not done my duty so well as I
ought. I pray you, Jacques, my friend, let them not take me up from this
spot, for, when I move, I feel all the pains that one can feel, short of
death, which will seize me soon." The Constable de Bourbon, being
informed of his wound, came to him, saying, "Bayard, my friend, I am sore
distressed at your mishap; there is nothing for it but patience; give not
way to melancholy; I will send in quest of the best surgeons in this
country, and, by God's help, you will soon be healed." "My lord,"
answered Bayard, "there is no pity for me; I die having done my duty; but
I have pity for you, to see you serving against your king, your country,
and your oath." Bourbon withdrew without a word. The Marquis of Pescara
came passing by. "Would to God, gentle Sir Bayard," said he, "that it
had cost me a quart of my blood, without meeting my death, that I had
been doomed not to taste meat for two years, and that I held you safe and
sound my prisoner, for by the treatment I showed you, you shou