one of the suburbs, but their advance was checked by some hastily constructed defences.  At nightfall the citizens came out through the breaches of their walls; they were enabled, by their knowledge of the rough and precipitous ground, to fall unobserved upon the rear of the enemy; eight hundred Burgundians were killed, and the rout would have been complete had not the Duke with the main body of his army pushed forward to the assistance of a division which was still holding its ground.

On the next day the King arrived, and soon after took up his quarters close to those of the Duke.  He showed himself to the men, who had placed their trust in him, wearing the St. Andrew’s cross, the badge of Burgundy, and replying “Vive Bourgogne!” to their cries of “Vive France!” That night there was a great and sudden alarm.  The Duke of Burgundy, though brave, was sometimes wanting in presence of mind, and on this occasion appeared more troubled in the King’s presence than pleased his friends.  Louis took the command, giving his orders with great coolness and prudence.  Even as a general he gained by comparison with his rival.  He was indeed not less anxious than Charles that the Burgundian army should suffer no reverse.  He feared everything that might arouse the ready suspicion and ungovernable temper of the Duke.  On the evening of the 29th a few hundred men, colliers and miners from the mountainous district of Franchemont, led by the owners of the house in which the King and Duke were sleeping, made a desperate attempt to surprise the princes in their beds.  They would have succeeded had they not delayed to attack a barn in which three hundred Burgundian men-at-arms were posted.  Only a few followed their guides straight to the quarters of the sovereigns.  They were unable, therefore, to overcome the resistance of the guard before the noise of the conflict had aroused the camp.  The assailants were overwhelmed by numbers, and fell fighting to the last.  The assault had been ordered for the next day, but this bold and unexpected attack so surprised and disconcerted the Burgundians that the King thought he might be able to persuade the Duke to agree to a capitulation, or at least to postpone the assault.  He only obtained a contemptuous request that he should consult his own safety by retiring to Namur.  This reflection on his courage stimulated him to greater ostentation of zeal.  He could scarcely be restrained from leading the assault.

The citizens were worn out by guarding an open town against a powerful army for more than a week; they imagined that as it was a Sunday they would not be attacked till the morrow.  The assailants entered the town with little or no resistance.  Yet the fury and license of the soldiery could not have been greater had their passions been excited by an obstinate and bloody struggle.  The horrors of the sack of Dinant[1] were surpassed, although many of the citizens were able to escape across the Meuse.  The deliberate