came up at this critical moment, recognized the king, and, beating off the soldiers with his sword, ranged himself at the king’s side, represented to-him the necessity of yielding, and pressed him to surrender to the Duke of Bourbon, who was not far off.  “No,” said the king, “rather die than pledge my faith to a traitor where is the Viceroy of Naples?” It took some time to find Lannoy; but at last he arrived and put one knee on the ground before Francis I., who handed his sword to him.  Lannoy took it with marks of the most profound respect, and immediately gave him another.  The battle was over, and Francis I. was Charles V.’s prisoner.

[Illustration:  Capture of Francis I.——­91]

He had shown himself an imprudent and unskilful general, but at the same time a hero.  His conquerors, both officers and privates, could not help, whilst they secured his person, showing their admiration for him.  When he sat down to table, after having had his wounds, which were slight, attended to, Bourbon approached him respectfully and presented him with a dinner-napkin; and the king took it without embarrassment and with frigid and curt politeness.  He next day granted him an interview, at which an accommodation took place with due formalities on both sides, but nothing more.  All the king’s regard was for the Marquis of Pescara, who came to see him in a simple suit of black, in order, as it were, to share his distress.  “He was a perfect gentleman,” said Francis I., “both in peace and in war.”  He heaped upon him marks of esteem and almost of confidence.  “How do you think,” he asked, “the emperor will behave to me?” “I think,” replied Pescara, “I can answer for the emperor’s moderation; I am sure that he will make a generous use of his victory.  If, however, he were capable of forgetting what is due to your rank, your merits, and your misfortunes, I would never cease to remind him of it, and I would lose what little claim upon him my services may have given me, or you should be satisfied with his behavior.”  The king embraced him warmly.  He asked to be excused from entering Pavia, that he might not be a gazing-stock in a town that he had so nearly taken.  He was, accordingly, conducted to Pizzighittone, a little fortress between Milan and Cremona.  He wrote thence two letters, one to his mother the regent and the other to Charles V., which are here given word for word, because they so well depict his character and the state of his mind in his hour of calamity:—­

1.  “To the Regent of France:  Madame, that you may know how stands the rest of my misfortune:  there is nothing in the world left to me but honor and my life, which is safe.  And in order that, in your adversity, this news might bring you some little comfort, I prayed for permission to write you this letter, which was readily granted me; entreating you, in the exercise of your accustomed prudence, to be pleased not to do anything rash, for I have hope, after all, that