udder and
lower his head.

"Ventre St. Gris! did you ever see such a coward, Chicot?" said he.

"No, sire, I have never seen a coward like you."

The soldiers of M. de Vezin now tried to dislodge Henri and his advanced
guards, who received them sword in hand; but the besieged were the
strongest, and succeeded in forcing Henri and his troops back beyond the
fosse.

"Ventre St. Gris!" cried the king, "I believe my flag retreats; I must
carry it myself." And snatching it from the hands of those who held it,
he was the first to rush forward again, half enveloped in its folds. The
balls whistled round him, and pierced the flag with a hollow sound. A
long hand-to-hand fight ensued, above all the uproar of which M. de
Vezin's voice was heard crying, "Barricade the streets! let trenches be
dug! and the houses garrisoned!"

"Oh!" cried M. de Turenne, "the siege of the city is over, Vezin." And
as he spoke he fired at him and wounded him in the arm.

"You are wrong, Turenne," cried M. de Vezin, "there are twenty sieges in
Cahors; so if one is over, there are nineteen to come."

M. de Vezin defended himself during five days and nights from street to
street and from house to house. Luckily for the rising fortunes of Henri
of Navarre, he had counted too much on the walls and garrison of Cahors,
and had neglected to send to M. de Biron.

During these five days and nights, Henri commanded like a captain and
fought like a soldier, slept with his head on a stone, and awoke sword
in hand. Each day they conquered a street or a square, which each night
the garrison tried to retake. On the fourth night the enemy seemed
willing to give some rest to the Protestant army. Then it was Henri who
attacked in his turn. He forced an intrenched position, but it cost him
seven hundred men. M. de Turenne and nearly all the officers were
wounded, but the king remained untouched. To the fear that he had felt
at first, and which he had so heroically vanquished, succeeded a
feverish restlessness, a rash audacity. All the fastenings of his armor
were broken, as much by his own efforts as by the blows of the enemy. He
struck so vigorously that he always killed his man. When this last post
was forced, the king entered into the inclosure, followed by the eternal
Chicot, who, silent and sad, had for five days seen growing at his sides
the phantom of a monarchy destined to destroy that of the Valois.

"Well, Chicot, of what are you thinking?" said Henr