t was in one of these wild rushes the incident occurred that laid the
foundation of my fortunes, though the building took many years to
complete. I tell it here, not out of pride or vainglory--though I was
proud, too--but because it is necessary to the better understanding of
my story.

We had just left the handful of Englishmen, who had bravely repulsed a
stubborn attack of cavalry and infantry on their position, when a cry
arose of "Prince Henry! Help for the prince!"

A cry of despair broke from us as we realized his peril. How it came
about I never clearly learned, for in the heat of battle one rarely sees
more than the things close at hand. Some said one thing, some another,
but this I reckon was the most likely way of it.

His regiment was rather exposed, and on the left flank stretched some
rolling ground, unsuitable for cavalry but affording good cover for
foot-soldiers. Across these hollows Cosse had sent a large body of
infantry, while at the same time the prince's regiment was assailed by
an overwhelming force of cavalry. An order to retire was given--though
none knew by whom--and in consequence, Henry, with a handful of men, was
left surrounded by a sea of foes.

Coligny glanced quickly round the field; the royalists were pressing us
at every point; not a man could be spared from his post.

"We must save him ourselves, gentlemen!" he exclaimed tersely,
"forward!"

We counted barely two score swords, but the prince was in peril, and
though the enterprise cost all our lives he must be rescued. Our
comrades battling desperately at their posts cheered us as we flew by,
crying, "Coligny! Coligny!" Straight as a die we rode, our chief
slightly in advance, the rest of us in threes, horse's head to horse's
head, the animals straining and quivering in every muscle as we urged
them madly forward.

Too late! was the thought in every heart, as we beheld the prince
fighting for dear life, and hemmed in by a host of enemies. "Coligny!
Coligny!" we cried, and in blind fury charged the dense mass.

Now it chanced by pure accident, for I had no other thought than to
follow my patron closely, that the charge brought me close to the
bridle-hand of the prince. Henry of Bearn, though a fine sworder, was
even a better horseman, and it was to his skill as a rider, much more
than to his dexterity with the sword, that he owed his life.

But now he was so closely beset that he was compelled to depend upon the
play of his s