r drowned.

No one could manage his long sword better than Joyeuse: every blow cut
open a head, every thrust took effect. The group of Flemings on which he
fell were destroyed like a field of corn by a legion of locusts.
Delighted with their first success, they continued to push on; but the
Calvinist cavalry, surrounded by troops, began to lose ground. M. de St.
Aignan's infantry, however, kept their place.

The prince had seen the burning of the fleet, and heard the reports of
the cannon and the explosions, without suspecting anything but a fierce
combat, which must terminate in victory for Joyeuse; for how could a few
Flemish ships fight against the French fleet? He expected, then, every
minute a diversion on the part of Joyeuse, when the news was brought to
him that the fleet was destroyed, and Joyeuse and his men fighting in
the midst of the Flemings. He now began to feel very anxious, the fleet
being the means of retreat, and consequently the safety of the army. He
sent orders to the Calvinist cavalry to try a fresh charge, and men and
horses, almost exhausted, rallied to attack the Antwerpians afresh. The
voice of Joyeuse was heard in the midst of the melee crying, "Hold firm,
M. de St. Aignan. France! France!" and, like a reaper cutting a field of
corn, his sword flew round, and cut down its harvest of men; the
delicate favorite--the Sybarite--seemed to have put on with his cuirass
the strength of a Hercules; and the infantry, hearing his voice above
all the noise, and seeing his sword flashing, took fresh courage, and,
like the cavalry, made a new effort, and returned to the combat.

But now the person that had been called monseigneur came out of the city
on a beautiful black horse. He wore black armor, and was followed by
three hundred well-mounted cavaliers, whom the Prince of Orange had
placed at his disposal.

By a parallel gate came out William himself, with a picked body of
infantry who had not yet appeared.

Monseigneur hastened where he was most wanted, that is to say, where
Joyeuse was fighting with his sailors.

The Flemings recognized him, and opened their ranks, crying, joyfully,
"Monseigneur! monseigneur!" Joyeuse and his men saw the movement, heard
the cries, and all at once found themselves opposed to a new troop.
Joyeuse pushed his horse toward the black knight, and their swords met.
Joyeuse was confident in his armor and his science, but all his thrusts
were skillfully parried, and one of