lish nobles. The remainder fled in a panic, not able to stand against
that vigorous arm and deadly axe, and the fierce courage which the
exploits of their leader gave to the peasants. The field was cleared and
Longueil again saved.

Big Ferre, overcome with heat and fatigue, sought his home at the end of
the fight, and there drank such immoderate draughts of cold water that
he was seized with a fever. He was put to bed, but would not part with
his axe, "which was so heavy that a man of the usual strength could
scarcely lift it from the ground with both hands." In this statement one
would say that the worthy chronicler must have romanced a little.

The news that their gigantic enemy was sick came to the ears of the
English, and filled them with joy and hope. He was outside the walls of
Longueil, and might be assailed in his bed. Twelve men-at-arms were
chosen, their purpose being to creep up secretly upon the place,
surround it, and kill the burly champion before aid could come to him.

The plan was well laid, but it failed through the watchfulness of the
sick man's wife. She saw the group of armed men before they could
complete their dispositions, and hurried with the alarming news to the
bedside of her husband.

"The English are coming!" she cried. "I fear it is for you they are
looking. What will you do?"

Big Ferre answered by springing from bed, arming himself in all haste
despite his sickness, seizing his axe, and leaving the house. Entering
his little yard, he saw the foe closing covertly in on his small
mansion, and shouted, angrily,--

"Ah, you scoundrels! you are coming to take me in my bed. You shall not
get me there; come, take me here if you will."

Setting his back against a wall, he defended himself with his usual
strength and courage. The English attacked him in a body, but found it
impossible to get inside the swing of that deadly axe. In a little while
five of them lay wounded upon the ground, and the other seven had taken
to flight.

Big Ferre returned triumphantly to his bed; but, heated by his
exertions, he drank again too freely of cold water. In consequence his
fever returned, more violently than before. A few days afterwards the
brave fellow, sinking under his sickness, went out of the world,
conquered by water where steel had been of no avail. "All his comrades
and his country wept for him bitterly, for, so long as he lived, the
English would not have come nigh this place."

And so end