de down their own countrymen.
Horses ran about the field without riders. Many of the soldiers threw
away their arms, to fly the more quickly. All strove to escape from the
terrible pursuit which hung on their rear. The artillery and
ammunition-wagons choked up the road, and obstructed the flight of the
fugitives. The slaughter was dreadful. The best blood of France flowed
like water.

[Sidenote: ARMY ROUTED.]

Yet mercy was shown to those who asked it. Hundreds and thousands threw
down their arms, and obtained quarter. Nevers, according to some
accounts, covered the right flank of the French army. Others state that
he was separated from it by a ravine or valley. At all events, he fared
no better than his leader. He was speedily enveloped by the cavalry of
Hoorne and Brunswick, and his fine corps of light horse cut to pieces.
He himself, with the prince of Conde, was so fortunate as to make his
escape, with the remnant of his forces, to La Fere.

Had the Spaniards followed up the pursuit, few Frenchmen might have been
left that day to tell the story of the rout of St. Quentin. But the
fight had already lasted four hours; evening was setting in; and the
victors, spent with toil and sated with carnage, were content to take up
their quarters on the field of battle.

The French, in the mean time, made their way, one after another, to La
Fere, and, huddling together in the public squares, or in the quarters
they had before occupied, remained like a herd of panic-struck deer, in
whose ears the sounds of the chase are still ringing. But the loyal
cavaliers threw off their panic, and recovered heart, when a rumor
reached them that their commander, Montmorency, was still making head,
with a body of stout followers, against the enemy. At the tidings, faint
and bleeding as they were, they sprang to the saddles which they had
just quitted, and were ready again to take the field.[211]

But the rumor was without foundation. Montmorency was a prisoner in the
hands of the Spaniards. The veteran had exposed his own life throughout
the action, as if willing to show that he would not shrink in any degree
from the peril into which he had brought his followers. When he saw that
the day was lost, he threw himself into the hottest of the battle,
holding life cheap in comparison with honor. A shot from the pistol of a
_schwarzreiter_, fracturing his thigh, disabled him from further
resistance; and he fell into the hands of the Spaniards, w