This pledge the Duke proceeded to violate almost as soon as made.  Orange returned with confidence to his own house, which was close to the citadel, and therefore far removed from the proposed point of attack, but he had hardly arrived there when he received a visit from the Duke’s private secretary, Quinsay, who invited him to accompany his Highness on a visit to the camp.  Orange declined the request, and sent an earnest prayer to the Duke not to leave the city that morning.  The Duke dined as usual at noon.  While at dinner he received a letter; was observed to turn pale on reading it, and to conceal it hastily in a muff which he wore on his left arm.  The repast finished, the Duke ordered his horse.  The animal was restive, and so, strenuously resisted being mounted that, although it was his usual charger; it was exchanged for another.  This second horse started in such a flurry that the Duke lost his cloak, and almost his seat.  He maintained his self-possession, however, and placing himself at the head of his bodyguard and some troopers, numbering in all three hundred mounted men, rode out of the palace-yard towards the Kipdorp gate.

This portal opened on the road towards Borgerhout, where his troops were stationed, and at the present day bears the name of that village:  It is on the side of the city farthest removed from and exactly opposite the river.  The town was very quiet, the streets almost deserted; for it was one o’clock, the universal dinner-hour, and all suspicion had been disarmed by the energetic protestations of the Duke.  The guard at the gate looked listlessly upon the cavalcade as it approached, but as soon as Anjou had crossed the first drawbridge, he rose in his stirrups and waved his hand.  “There is your city, my lads,” said he to the troopers behind him; “go and take possession of it!”

At the same time he set spurs to his horse, and galloped off towards the camp at Borgerhout.  Instantly afterwards; a gentleman of his suite, Count Bochepot, affected to have broken his leg through the plunging of his horse, a circumstance by which he had been violently pressed, against the wall as he entered the gate.  Kaiser, the commanding officer at the guard-house, stepped kindly forward to render him assistance, and his reward was a desperate thrust from the Frenchman’s rapier.  As he wore a steel cuirass, he fortunately escaped with a slight wound.

The expression, “broken leg,” was the watch-word, for at one and the same instant, the troopers and guardsmen of Anjou set upon the burgher watch at the gate, and butchered every man.  A sufficient force was left to protect the entrance thus easily mastered, while the rest of the Frenchmen entered the town at full gallop, shrieking “Ville gaignee, ville gaignee! vive la messe! vive le Due d’Anjou!” They were followed by their comrades from the camp outside, who now poured into the town at the preconcerted signal, at least six hundred cavalry and three thousand