nge of defiance to the foe.

I had little to do but to watch the opening of the battle, and my heart
beat fast as De Pilles, a rough and fearless fighter, went forward with
his artilery. Almost instantly the excitement became tense.

"He is into the marsh!" cried Felix. "His guns are stuck fast! He cannot
get them out! Ah, see, Monseigneur is launching his horsemen at them!"

Down the hill they came in beautiful order, a troop of Italian cavalry,
their helmets gleaming, their swords flashing in the sunlight.

"De Pilles is lost!" muttered a man behind me.

"No, no!" cried Felix; "he will beat them off. See, he is forming up his
men. Ah, bravo! bravo! Look, there isn't a coward among them!"

With a rush, the Italians swept down on the guns. They were brave men
and seasoned fighters, but they came to grief that day. Though their
animals floundered in the soft soil they struggled on valiantly; they
reached the guns, they wheeled and circled, they struck fierce blows
with their glittering blades, but, wherever they rode, there they found
a grim and sturdy opponent.

Back they went for a breathing-space, and then, with a magnificent
charge, once more flung themselves on the handful of gunners. My heart
stood still when, for a moment, our gallant few disappeared as if
overwhelmed by the waves of a human sea.

A triumphant shout from Felix roused me. The waves had rolled back,
broken and shattered, and we raised cheer after cheer as the baffled
horsemen slowly climbed the hill. De Pilles had saved his guns, and in
Monseigneur's Italian troop there were more than a score of empty
saddles. It was a good beginning for us.

The battle now became general. The guns, dragged from the marsh on to
firm ground, opened fire against the breastworks, the infantry marched
steadily forward, two troops of horse worked round to the right, seeking
a favourable place for attack.

But our progress was slow. Monseigneur's troops, fighting with rare
vigour and courage, forced us back again and again; their position
seemed impregnable, and our men fell fast. Unless we could break through
somewhere the battle was lost.

By extreme good fortune, I was close behind the Admiral when he turned
his head, seeking a messenger.

"Le Blanc" he cried, courteous as ever, even in the midst of the
terrible strife, "ride to De Courcy Lamont, and tell him to charge home.
Tell him that unless he can make a gap for us, the day is lost. And say
that the