ont, the bearer of the banner portraying the
great red dragon of Merlin, which had floated all day over the bold
Welsh contingent.

Flinging this banner over the prostrate form of the Prince, the brave
soldier called on his men to charge the horses and cut them down. This
they did in the way before mentioned -- throwing themselves underneath
and stabbing them through the heart. So their riders, finding even this
last effort futile, joined in the headlong flight of their compatriots;
and the Prince's faithful attendants crowded round him to raise him up
again, greatly rejoicing to find that though breathless and confused by
the shock of his fall, he was none the worse for his overthrow, and was
quickly able to thank the brave Welshmen who had so opportunely come to
the rescue of him and his comrades.

"Now, we will back to the ranks and find my father," said the Prince,
when he had spoken his courteous thanks and looked round about to see if
his comrades had suffered more than himself.

One or two had received slight wounds, and Raymond was leaning upon
Gaston's shoulder looking white and shaken; but he quickly recovered,
and declared himself only bruised and breathless, and still holding fast
to Gaston's arm, followed the Prince up the hill amongst the heaps of
dying and dead.

Gaston was flushed with his exertions, and in his heart was room for
nothing but pride and joy in the glorious victory just achieved. But
whilst Raymond looked around him as he slowly moved, suffering more
bodily pain than he wished his brother to know, his heart felt bruised
and crushed like his body, and a sudden sense of the vanity of human
life and ambition came suddenly upon him, so much so that he scarce knew
whether he was in the flesh or in the spirit as he moved slowly and
quietly onwards.

Everywhere he saw before him the bodies of men who but a few short hours
ago had been full of strong vitality, instinct with the same passions of
hatred and loyalty as had animated their own ranks that day. How strange
it seemed to look into those dead faces now, and wonder what those freed
spirits thought of those same passions that had been raging within them
but a few short hours before! Did it seem to them, as it almost seemed
to him, that in all the world around there was nothing of moment enough
to arouse such tumult of passion and strife; that only the things
eternal the things that pass not away were worthy to be greatly sought
after and