f killed, but Albert
escaped, and, accompanied by the Duke of Aumale, who was also slightly
wounded, by Colonel La Bourlotte, and half a dozen troopers rode for
their life in the direction of Bruges. When they reached the fatal bridge
of Leffingen, over which the archduke had marched so triumphantly but a
few hours before to annihilate Count Ernest's division, he was nearly
taken prisoner. A few soldiers, collected from the scattered garrisons,
had occupied the position, but knowing nothing of the result of the
action in the downs, took to their heels and fled as the little party of
cavaliers advanced. Had the commander at Ostend or the States-General
promptly sent out a company or two so soon as the news of the victory
reached them to seize this vital point, the doom of the archduke would
have been sealed. Nothing then could have saved him from capture.
Fortunately escaping this danger, he now pushed on, and never pulled
bridle till he reached Bruges. Thence without pausing he was conveyed to
Ghent, where he presented himself to the Infanta. He was not accompanied
by the captive Maurice of Nassau, and the curiosity of the princess to
know how that warrior would demean himself as a prisoner was not destined
on this occasion to be gratified.

Isabella bore the disappointment and the bitter intelligence of the
defeat with a stoicism worthy of her departed father. She had already had
intimations that the day was going against her army, and had successively
received tidings that her husband was killed, was dangerously wounded,
was a prisoner; and she was now almost relieved to receive him, utterly
defeated, but still safe and sound.

Meantime the mad chase continued along the beach and through the downs.
Never was a rout more absolute than that of Albert's army. Never had so
brilliant a victory been achieved by Hollander or Spaniard upon that
great battleground of Europe--the Netherlands.

Maurice, to whom the chief credit of the victory was unquestionably due,
had been firm and impassive during the various aspects of the battle,
never losing his self-command when affairs seemed blackest. So soon,
however, as the triumph, after wavering so long, was decided in his
favour--the veteran legions of Spain and Italy, the picked troops of
Christendom, all flying at last before his troops--the stadholder was
fairly melted. Dismounting from his horse, he threw himself on his knees
in the sand, and with streaming eyes and uplifted