“Cursed body,” murmured Henri, “ah! you fear, you tremble; wait till you have something to tremble for.”  And striking his spurs into his horse, he rushed onward before cavalry, infantry, and artillery, and arrived at a hundred feet from the place, red with the fire of the batteries which thundered from above.  There, he kept his horse immovable for ten minutes, his face turned toward the gate of the city, and crying, “The fascines! ventre St. Gris! the fascines!”

Mornay had followed him, sword in hand, and then came Chicot; behind them the young Huguenot gentlemen, crying, “Vive Navarre!” and each with a fascine, which he threw in, and the fosse was soon filled.  Then came the artillery, and with the loss of thirty men succeeded in placing their petards under the gate.  The shot whistled like a whirlwind of iron round Henri’s head, and twenty men fell in an instant before his eyes.  “Forward!” cried he, and rushed on through the midst of the fire, and arrived just as the soldiers had fired the first petard.  The gate was broken in two places; the second petard was lighted, and a new opening was made in the wood; but twenty arquebuses immediately passed through, vomiting balls on the soldiers and officers, and the men fell like mowed grass.

“Sire,” cried Chicot, “in Heaven’s name retire!”

Mornay said nothing; he was proud of his pupil, but from time to time he tried to place himself before him.  Once Henri felt the damp on his brow, and a cloud pass over his eyes.

“Ah, cursed nature,” cried he, “you shall not conquer me!” Then, jumping off his horse, “An ax!” cried he, and with a vigorous arm he struck down wood and iron.  At last a beam gave way, and a part of the gate and a portion of the wall fell, and one hundred men rushed to the breach, crying, “Navarre!  Navarre!  Cahors is ours!”

[Illustration:  “An ax!” Cried Henri, and with A vigorous arm he struck down wood and iron.]

Chicot had not quitted the king; he was with him under the gate when he entered, one of the first, but at each discharge he saw him shudder and lower his head.

“Ventre St. Gris! did you ever see such a coward, Chicot?” said he.

“No, sire, I have never seen a coward like you.”

The soldiers of M. de Vezin now tried to dislodge Henri and his advanced guards, who received them sword in hand; but the besieged were the strongest, and succeeded in forcing Henri and his troops back beyond the fosse.

“Ventre St. Gris!” cried the king, “I believe my flag retreats; I must carry it myself.”  And snatching it from the hands of those who held it, he was the first to rush forward again, half enveloped in its folds.  The balls whistled round him, and pierced the flag with a hollow sound.  A long hand-to-hand fight ensued, above all the uproar of which M. de Vezin’s voice was heard crying, “Barricade the streets! let trenches be dug! and the houses garrisoned!”