"Little is there more to tell, madam," he proceeded, after a moment's pause. "By this time the battle had changed to a flight and a pursuit. There were not ten men who held together on the field. Shame to him who turns his back while one hope lasts; but no shame to him who flies from a lost field. I saw the duke galloping to the left; and as I knew the country well, I spurred for the bridge of La Buissiere, and sad it was to see the road all strewed with dead and dying. But when I came near the bridge, the matter was still worse, for there was that foul traitor, Campo Basso,[4] with a barricade of carts and wagons, cutting off the fugitives from his betrayed master's host. When I looked forward, there were the Italian devils--when I looked behind, down were coming the German swine. On the one hand was the hill, with the Swiss pikes gleaming over the top, and on the other was the river. The water afforded the only chance; so in we plunged. Our horses were strong and unwounded, and we struggled through, though many a gallant gentleman sunk close before our eyes. But, lady," he added, once more, as the excitement of detailing the battle passed away, "I am growing faint again, and in good sooth I have little more to tell; therefore, by your Grace's leave, I will retire."
Mary answered not a word, but gazed upon the old man with the same fixed painful glance; but the duchess bowed her head, and the Lord of Neufchatel, with the aid of his two attendants, moved towards the door.
Before he reached it, however, he paused, and turning round exclaimed--"Faith! I had forgot the very errand which made me make such haste; for I have travelled with scarcely an hour's rest, in order to bid you take instant measures to secure the country, for that wild young wolf of Lorraine will be upon the frontier speedily; and even as I passed by Brussels I heard strange tales of movements in France. You, my Lord of Imbercourt, look to it with all speed; for, believe me, not an hour is to be lost."
Thus saying, he turned and left the chamber, while Imbercourt advanced to the princess, and besought her to be comforted. She answered nothing, however; and only by a melancholy wave of the hand, expressed how deep were her apprehensions.