next day came into the camp before Saint
Quentin. The prisoners of distinction were likewise presented to him in
long procession. Rarely had a monarch of Spain enjoyed a more signal
triumph than this which Philip now owed to the gallantry and promptness
of Count Egmont.

While the King stood reviewing the spoils of victory, a light horseman of
Don Henrico Manrique's regiment approached, and presented him with a
sword. "I am the man, may it please your Majesty," said the trooper, "who
took the Constable; here is his sword; may your Majesty be pleased to
give me something to eat in my house." "I promise it," replied Philip;
upon which the soldier kissed his Majesty's hand and retired. It was the
custom universally recognized in that day, that the king was the king's
captive, and the general the general's, but that the man, whether soldier
or officer, who took the commander-in-chief, was entitled to ten thousand
ducats. Upon this occasion the Constable was the prisoner of Philip,
supposed to command his own army in person. A certain Spanish Captain
Valenzuela, however, disputed the soldier's claim to the Constable's
sword. The trooper advanced at once to the Constable, who stood there
with the rest of the illustrious prisoners. "Your excellency is a
Christian," said he; "please to declare upon your conscience and the
faith of a cavalier, whether 't was I that took you prisoner. It need not
surprise your excellency that I am but a soldier, since with soldiers his
Majesty must wage his wars." "Certainly," replied the Constable, "you
took me and took my horse, and I gave you my sword. My word, however, I
pledged to Captain Valenzuela." It appearing, however, that the custom of
Spain did not recognize a pledge given to any one but the actual captor,
it was arranged that the soldier should give two thousand of his ten
thousand ducats to the captain. Thus the dispute ended.

Such was the brilliant victory of Saint Quentin, worthy to be placed in
the same list with the world-renowned combats of Creqy and Agincourt.
Like those battles, also, it derives its main interest from the personal
character of the leader, while it seems to have been hallowed by the
tender emotions which sprang from his subsequent fate. The victory was
but a happy move in a winning game. The players were kings, and the
people were stakes--not parties. It was a chivalrous display in a war
which was waged without honorable purpose, and in which no single lofty