ing his sword dashed
forward, his battle-cry, "St. Cyr!" ringing out high and clear. It was a
sight to make one weep, and yet feel proud that one's country could
produce such a hero.

Forward we went, and the air was filled with cries of "St Cyr! For the
Admiral! Hurrah! Hurrah!" as we plunged into the midst of the press.

"Forward, my children!" cried St Cyr, as he carved a passage for
himself through the throng; "forward!"

He was a splendid rider and a skilful swordsman, but his enemies closed
round him thickly. Savage blows rained upon him from every side, and at
last, with a "Fight on, my children!" the gallant veteran sank bleeding
to the ground. Montcontour cost France numerous brave men but none
braver than the chivalrous St. Cyr.

His fall, instead of dispiriting his followers, roused them to fury! No
one asked or gave quarter; it was a fight to the death, and when finally
we succeeded in breaking through the royalist horse, half of our number
lay lifeless on the plain. Some there were--St. Cyr's personal
attendants notably--so fired with grief and anger at the death of their
beloved chief that they were for turning back and renewing the combat.

This, however, was stark madness, so we galloped on, with the royalists
like sleuth-hounds on our track.

Presently they slackened their pace, and then abandoned the pursuit, for
we were approaching our cavalry, commanded by Count Louis of Nassau.

"You are welcome, brave hearts!" he exclaimed, "every man is needed,"
and his troops cheered us vigorously.

"My lord," I said, riding up and saluting, "I have come from the
Admiral; he begs that you will cover the retreat, for unless you can do
so all is lost."

"Where is the Admiral, monsieur?"

"My lord, when the centre broke, he was carried away by the rush. He
has been wounded in the head, and I fear seriously."

"Did you leave him in safety?"

"He was surrounded by his bodyguard; at least, by all those who were
left alive."

"Will the centre rally, think you?"

"There is no centre; it is a scattered mob. I fear there is no army
except the troops you have here. The left, I am sure, has given way."

He was about to reply when a cavalier galloped up to us. His horse's
sides were flaked with spume, and the gallant beast quivered in every
limb. The rider was deathly pale; one arm hung down limply, his side was
stained with blood. He rolled from side to side, having scarcely
sufficient strength to keep his