oned by
foes. Nothing seemed to remain to him but to sell his life dearly; and
six Saracens, rushing forward simultaneously, attempted to seize his
bridle, and take him captive. But, at that moment, Louis--gentle and
saintly as was his nature--used his German sword with a vigour and
effect, scarcely excelled by Richard Coeur de Lion at Joppa, when he
charged among the Mamelukes of Saladin, or by Edward Longshanks at
Kakhow, when the sweep of his sword, and the rush of his grey steed,
struck terror into the heart of the host of Bibars Bendocdar. Down
before that short German sword went turban and caftan; till the French
knights, aware of their king's danger, spurred in to his rescue, and,
with a mighty effort, saved him from captivity.

And now another attempt was made to reach Mansourah. But it was too
late. All was over with the brave band who had followed the Count of
Artois into the city; and every moment the aspect of affairs became more
menacing; for Bibars Bendocdar, elate with his victory within the walls,
issued from the gate, animating his soldiers with the words--'God is
powerful,' and hoping to deal with the French king, as he had dealt with
the French king's brother. Nor, at first, did it appear that the
Crusaders could escape utter defeat. Not aware what was occurring, and
suddenly attacked by a mighty force led by a dauntless chief, they were
pressed and whirled about and separated from each other, and forced to
encounter countless odds at every disadvantage. Yet even in such
circumstances the warriors of France maintained their high reputation
for valour; and, as the combat proceeded and became keener and keener,
many a strong Saracen went to his account.

On both sides, indeed, great was the display of personal prowess and
courage; but there was no generalship. Amidst clouds of dust, and under
a glowing sun, Christian and Moslem fought hand to hand, and steel to
steel. Helmet and turban mingled confusedly in the struggle; while
banners rose and fell, and knights were unhorsed, and saddles emptied.
From Mansourah to Achmoun, and from the Nile to the ford pointed out by
the Bedouin, the ground, literally covered with combatants, shook with
the rush of their horses, and the sky was rent by the opposing war-cries
of 'Islam! Islam!' and 'Montjoie, St. Denis!' What with the shouts of
the living, the shrieks of the dying, and the yells of the Saracens, as
they bore down on their adversaries like hawks on their