and between two ditches, died three or four hundred men-at-arms.  Every one would fain have set out in pursuit; but the good knight said to the Duke of Nemours, who was all covered with blood and brains from one of his men-at-arms, that had been carried off by a cannon-ball, ‘My lord, are you wounded?’ ‘No,’ said the duke, ’but I have wounded a many others.’  ‘Now, God be praised!’ said Bayard; ’you have gained the battle, and abide this day the most honored prince in the world; but push not farther forward; reassemble your men-at-arms in this spot; let none set on to pillage yet, for it is not time; Captain Louis d’Ars and I are off after these fugitives that they may not retire behind their foot; but stir not, for any man living, from here, unless Captain Louis d’Ars or I come hither to fetch you.’  “The Duke of Nemours promised; but whilst he was biding on his ground, awaiting Bayard’s return, he said to the Baron du Chimay,—­“an honest gentleman who had knowledge,” says Fleuranges, “of things to come, and who, before the battle, had announced to Gaston that he would gain it, but he would be in danger of being left there if God did not do him grace,—­Well, Sir Dotard, am I left there, as you said?  Here I am still.’  ’Sir, it is not all over yet,’ answered Chimay; whereupon there arrived an archer, who came and said to the duke, ’My lord, yonder be two thousand Spaniards, who are going off all orderly along the causeway.’  ‘Certes,’ said Gaston, ‘I cannot suffer that; whoso loves me, follow me.’  And resuming his arms he pushed forward.  ‘Wait for your men,’ said Sire de Lautrec to him; but Gaston took no heed, and followed by only twenty or thirty men-at-arms, he threw himself upon those retreating troops.”  He was immediately surrounded, thrown from his horse, and defending himself all the while, “like Roland at Roncesvalles,” say the chroniclers, he fell pierced with wounds.  “Do not kill him,” shouted Lautrec; “it is the brother of your queen.”  Lautrec himself was so severely handled and wounded that he was thought to be dead.  Gaston really was, though the news spread but slowly.  Bayard, returning with his comrades from pursuing the fugitives, met on his road the Spanish force that Gaston had so rashly attacked, and that continued to retire in good order.  Bayard was all but charging them, when a Spanish captain came out of the ranks and said to him, in his own language, “What would you do, sir?  You are not powerful enough to beat us; you have won the battle; let the honor thereof suffice you, and let us go with our lives, for by God’s will are we escaped.”  Bayard felt that the Spaniard spoke truly; he had but a handful of men with him, and his own horse could not carry him any longer:  the Spaniards opened their ranks, and he passed through the middle of them and let them go. “’Las!” says his Loyal Serviteur, “he knew not that the good Duke of Nemours was dead, or that those yonder were they who had slain him; he had died ten thousand deaths but he would have avenged him, if he had known it.”