as he was arriving at St. Felix, and was barely entering within the castle, he heard the shouts of the fugitives whom the good knight was pursuing as hard as he could spur; whereupon he had such a fright, that, suddenly and without help, he leaped out of his litter, and himself did aid in hauling up the bridge; which was doing like a man of wits, for had he waited until one could say a Pater noster, he had been snapped up.  Who was right down grieved, that was the good knight; never man turned back so melancholic as he was to have missed so fair a take; and the pope, from the good fright he had gotten, shook like a palsy the live-long day.” [Histoire du ben Chevalier Ballard, t. i. pp. 346-349.]

[Illustration:  Chaumont d’Amboise——­350]

From 1510 to 1512 the war in Italy was thus proceeding, but with no great results, when Gaston de Foix, Duke of Nemours, came to take the command of the French army.  He was scarcely twenty-three, and had hitherto only served under Trivulzio and La Palisse; but he had already a character for bravery and intelligence in war.  Louis XII. loved this son of his sister, Mary of Orleans, and gladly elevated him to the highest rank.  Gaston, from the very first, justified this favor.  Instead of seeking for glory in the field only, he began by shutting himself up in Milan, which the Swiss were besieging.  They made him an offer to take the road back to Switzerland, if he would give them a month’s pay; the sum was discussed; Gaston considered that they asked too much for their withdrawal; the Swiss broke off the negotiation; but “to the great astonishment of everybody,” says Guicciardini, “they raised the siege and returned to their own country.”  The pope was besieging Bologna; Gaston arrived there suddenly with a body of troops whom he had marched out at night through a tempest of wind and snow; and he was safe inside the place whilst the besiegers were still ignorant of his movement.  The siege of Bologna was raised.  Gaston left it immediately to march on Brescia, which the Venetians had taken possession of for the Holy League.  He retook the town by a vigorous assault, gave it up to pillage, punished with death Count Louis Avogaro and his two sons, who had excited the inhabitants against France, and gave a beating to the Venetian army before its walls.  All these successes had been gained in a fortnight.  “According to universal opinion,” says Guicciardini, “Italy for several centuries had seen nothing like these military operations.”

We are not proof against the pleasure of giving a place in this history to a deed of virtue and chivalrous kindness on Bayard’s part, the story of which has been told and retold many times in various works.  It is honorable to human kind, and especially to the middle ages, that such men and such deeds are met with here and there, amidst the violence of war and the general barbarity of manners.