ce, finds his young
protege, the Chevalier d'Harmental, who presents to him the sword of
Albemarle, whom he has just taken prisoner.

At this moment the arrival of Eugene is announced. Villars returns,
reaches, before him, the bridge over which he must pass, takes
possession of it, and awaits him. There the true combat takes place, for
the taking of Denain had been but a short skirmish. Eugene makes attack
after attack, returns seven times to the head of the bridge, his best
troops being destroyed by the artillery which protects it, and the
bayonets which defend it. At length, his clothes riddled with balls, and
bleeding from two wounds, he mounts his third horse, the conqueror of
Hochstett and Malplaquet retreats crying with rage and biting his gloves
with fury. In six hours the aspect of things has changed. France is
saved, and Louis XIV. is still Le Grand Roi.

D'Harmental had conducted himself like a man who wished to gain his
spurs at once. Villars, seeing him covered with blood and dust, recalled
to his mind by whom he had been recommended to him; made him draw near,
while, in the midst of the field of battle, he wrote on a drum the
result of the day.

"Are you wounded?" asked he.

"Yes, Monsieur le Marechal, but so slightly that it is not worth
speaking of."

"Have you the strength to ride sixty leagues, without resting an hour, a
minute, a second?"

"I have the strength for anything that will serve the king or you."

"Then set out instantly; go to Madame de Maintenon; tell her from me
what you have seen, and announce to her the courier who will bring the
official account."

D'Harmental understood the importance of the mission with which he was
charged, and bleeding and dusty as he was, he mounted a fresh horse and
gained the first stage. Twelve hours afterward he was at Versailles.

Villars had foreseen what would happen. At the first words which fell
from the mouth of the chevalier, Madame de Maintenon took him by the
hand, and conducted him to the king. The king was at work with Voisin,
but, contrary to his habit, in his room, for he was a little indisposed.

Madame de Maintenon opened the door, pushed D'Harmental to the feet of
the king, and raising her hands to heaven:

"Sire," said she, "give thanks to God, for your majesty knows we are
nothing by ourselves, and it is from Him comes every blessing."

"What has happened, monsieur? Speak," said the king quickly, astonished
to see this young man