rucified Saviour,
and the other with the Virgin Mary. The image of Him who said, "Love-your
enemies," and the gentle face of the Madonna, were to smile from heaven
upon deeds which might cause a shudder in the depths of hell. Their brief
orisons concluded, they swept forward to the city. Three thousand
Spaniards, under their Eletto, were to enter by the street of Saint
Michael; the Germans, and the remainder of the Spanish foot, commanded by
Romero, through that of Saint George. Champagny saw them coming, and
spoke a last word of encouragement to the Walloons. The next moment the
compact mass struck the barrier, as the thunderbolt descends from the
cloud. There was scarcely a struggle. The Walloons, not waiting to look
their enemy in the face, abandoned the posts which whey had themselves
claimed. The Spaniards crashed through the bulwark, as though it had been
a wall of glass. The Eletto was first to mount the rampart; the next
instant he was shot dead, while his followers, undismayed, sprang over
his body, and poured into the streets. The fatal gap, due to timidity and
carelessness, let in the destructive tide. Champagny, seeing that the
enemies had all crossed the barrier; leaped over a garden wall, passed
through a house into a narrow lane, and thence to the nearest station of
the German troops. Hastily collecting a small force, he led them in
person to the rescue. The Germans fought well, died well, but they could
not reanimate the courage of the Walloons, and all were now in full
retreat, pursued by the ferocious Spaniards. In vain Champagny stormed
among them; in vain he strove to rally their broken ranks. With his own
hand he seized a banner from a retreating ensign, and called upon the
nearest soldiers to make's stand against the foe. It was to bid the
flying clouds pause before the tempest. Torn, broken, aimless, the
scattered troops whirled through the streets before the pursuing wrath.
Champagny, not yet despairing, galloped hither and thither, calling upon
the burghers everywhere to rise in defence of their homes, nor did he
call in vain. They came forth from every place of rendezvous, from every
alley, from every house. They fought as men fight to defend their hearths
and altars, but what could individual devotion avail, against the
compact, disciplined, resistless mass of their foes? The order of defence
was broken, there was no system, no concert, no rallying point, no
authority. So soon as it was known th