he next attack.

But a great good fortune had come to them--so great that as they looked
down the valley they could scarce credit their own senses. Behind the
division of the Dauphin, which had pressed them so hard, stood a second
division hardly less numerous, led by the Duke of Orleans. The fugitives
from in front, blood-smeared and bedraggled, blinded with sweat and with
fear, rushed amidst its ranks in their flight, and in a moment, without
a blow being struck, had carried them off in their wild rout. This vast
array, so solid and so martial, thawed suddenly away like a snow-wreath
in the sun. It was gone, and in its place thousands of shining dots
scattered over the whole plain as each man made his own way to the spot
where he could find his horse and bear himself from the field. For a
moment it seemed that the battle was won, and a thundershout of joy
pealed up from the English line.

But as the curtain of the Duke's division was drawn away it was only to
disclose stretching far behind it, and spanning the valley from side
to side, the magnificent array of the French King, solid, unshaken, and
preparing its ranks for the attack. Its numbers were as great as those
of the English army; it was unscathed by all that was past, and it had a
valiant monarch to lead it to the charge. With the slow deliberation of
the man who means to do or to die, its leader marshaled its ranks for
the supreme effort of the day.

Meanwhile during that brief moment of exultation when the battle
appeared to be won, a crowd of hot-headed young knights and squires
swarmed and clamored round the Prince, beseeching that he would allow
them to ride forth.

"See this insolent fellow who bears three martlets upon a field gales!"
cried Sir Maurice Berkeley. "He stands betwixt the two armies as though
he had no dread of us."

"I pray you, sir, that I may ride out to him, since he seems ready to
attempt some small deed," pleaded Nigel.

"Nay, fair sirs, it is an evil thing that we should break our line,
seeing that we still have much to do," said the Prince. "See! he rides
away, and so the matter is settled."

"Nay, fair prince," said the young knight who had spoken first. "My gray
horse, Lebryte, could run him down ere he could reach shelter. Never
since I left Severn side have I seen steed so fleet as mine. Shall I
not show you?" In an instant he had spurred the charger and was speeding
across the plain.

The Frenchman, John de Helennes,