n to seek a safer occupation, by breaking into the houses for
plunder. It is therefore probable that De la Marck might have effected
his escape, his disguise concealing him from those who promised
themselves to win honour and grandeur upon his head, but for the stanch
pursuit of Quentin, his uncle Le Balafre, and some of his comrades. At
every pause which was made by the lanzknechts, a furious combat took
place betwixt them and the Archers, and in every melee Quentin sought De
la Marck; but the latter, whose present object was to retreat, seemed
to evade the young Scot's purpose of bringing him to single combat.
The confusion was general in every direction. The shrieks and cries of
women, the yelling of the terrified inhabitants, now subjected to the
extremity of military license, sounded horribly shrill amid the shouts
of battle--like the voice of misery and despair contending with that of
fury and violence, which should be heard farthest and loudest.

It was just when De la Marck, retiring through this infernal scene, had
passed the door of a small chapel of peculiar sanctity, that the shouts
of "France! France!--Burgundy! Burgundy!" apprised him that a part of
the besiegers were entering the farther end of the street, which was a
narrow one, and that his retreat was cut off.

"Comrade," he said, "take all the men with you.--Charge yonder fellows
roundly, and break through if you can--with me it is over. I am man
enough, now that I am brought to bay, to send some of these vagabond
Scots to hell before me."

His lieutenant obeyed, and, with most of the few lanzknechts who
remained alive, hurried to the farther end of the street, for the
purpose of charging those Burgundians who were advancing, and so forcing
their way, so as to escape. About six of De la Marck's best men remained
to perish with their master, and fronted the Archers, who were not many
more in number.

"Sanglier! Sanglier! Hola! gentlemen of Scotland," said the ruffian
but undaunted chief, waving his mace, "who longs to gain a coronet--who
strikes at the Boar of Ardennes?--You, young man, have, methinks, a
hankering; but you must win ere you wear it."

Quentin heard but imperfectly the words, which were partly lost in the
hollow helmet; but the action could not be mistaken, and he had but time
to bid his uncle and comrades, as they were gentlemen, to stand back,
when De la Marck sprang upon him with a bound like a tiger, aiming, at
the same time a b