ne, and halted not until he had reached the plains of
Chalons, whose level surface was well adapted to the evolutions of the
skilled horsemen who formed the strength of his hordes.

As he retreated, the Romans and Goths followed, pressing him sharply,
making havoc in his rear-guard, reaching Chalons so closely upon his
march that the Goths, under Torismond, the young and valiant son of
their king, were able to seize a commanding height in the midst of the
field, driving back the Huns who were ascending from the opposite side.

The battle that followed was one of the decisive battles of history. Had
the Huns won the victory, all western Europe might have become their
prey. The victory of AEtius was the first check received by this mighty
horde in their career of ruin and devastation. The conflict, as
described by the historians of the time, was "fierce, various,
obstinate, and bloody, such as could not be paralleled, either in the
present or in past ages." The number of the slain is variously estimated
at from three hundred thousand to about half that number. Exaggerated as
these estimates undoubtedly are, they will serve to indicate the
ferocity and bloody nature of the struggle. For a time it seemed as if
the Huns would win. Led by their king, they broke through the centre of
the allies, separated their wings, turned their whole strength against
the Goths, and slew Theodoric, their king, at the head of his men.

But the victory which seemed theirs was snatched from them by the
valiant Torismond, who descended from the height he had seized, assailed
the Huns with intrepid courage, and so changed the fortune of the field
that Attila was obliged to retreat,--vanquished for the first time in
his long career. The approach of night alone saved the Huns from a total
defeat. They retired within the circle of their wagons, and remained
there as in a fort, while the triumphant allies encamped upon the field.

That night was one of anxiety for Attila. He feared an attack, and knew
that the Huns, dismounted and fighting behind a barricade, were in
imminent danger of defeat. Their strength lay in their horses. On foot
they were but feeble warriors. Dreading utter ruin, Attila prepared a
funeral pile of the saddles and rich equipments of the cavalry,
resolved, if his camp should be forced, to rush into the flames, and
deprive his enemies of the glory of slaying or capturing the great
barbarian king.

The attack did not come. The