“Their guns are heavier than ours, and carry a farther distance,” I observed to Felix.

“It matters little,” replied he; “the battle will be decided by the sword.  I wonder when we are going to advance?”

“Not at all, I expect.  The Admiral has chosen his ground”—­though there was little choice for that matter—­“and intends to stand on the defensive.”

“That may suit the Germans well enough, but our own men do not like waiting to be charged.  Monseigneur means to drive in our right wing!  See, he is bringing his cavalry forward.  How splendidly they ride!  It makes one proud to know they are Frenchmen!”

“And sorry, too!”

I think Monseigneur was at their head, but the distance from our centre, where the Admiral had stationed himself, was great, and I may have been mistaken; but the leader, whoever he was, advanced very gallantly, several lengths in advance of his front line, waving his sword and cheering his followers.

The sun shone down on their steel caps, their breastplates and thigh-pieces, and made their swords glitter like silver.  They formed a pretty picture, with their gay flags and fluttering pennons, and they rode with all the confidence of victors.

From a trot they broke into a gallop, and we held our breath as, gathering momentum, they swept proudly down on our right wing.  A volley rang out, and here and there a trooper dropped, but the rest galloped on straight for their foe.

We craned our necks to watch the result.  Not a man spoke; we hardly dared to breathe, so keen was our anxiety.  Would our fellows stand firm before that human avalanche?  If they gave way ever so little, our right wing must be tumbled into ruin.

Nearer and nearer, in beautiful order, horse’s head to horse’s head, they tore along, until, with a tremendous crash, they flung themselves upon the solid wall of infantry.

“Bravo!” cried Felix excitedly, “they are broken; they are turning back!  Ah, St. Cyr is upon them!  There go the Englishmen!  For the Faith!  For the Faith!”

We stood in our stirrups, waving our swords and cheering like madmen.  Straight as a die the noble veteran with his gallant troop and the scanty band of Englishmen leaped into the midst of the baffled horsemen, and drove them back in wild disorder.

But there were brave and valiant hearts among those royalist gentlemen, and we had hardly finished our exulting cheers when they returned to the attack.  They flung away their lives recklessly, but they forced a passage, and our infantry were slowly yielding to numbers when Coligny, with a “Follow me, gentlemen!” galloped to the rescue.

Cheer answered cheer as we dashed into the fray, and the shouts of “Anjou!” were drowned by the cries of “For the Faith!” “For the Admiral!”

With splendid bravery the royalists stood their ground; but Coligny’s presence so inspired his followers that at last, with one irresistible rush, they swept forward, carrying everything before them.