The loss to Parma and to the royalist cause in Marquis Richebourg, was very great.  The death of De Billy, who was a faithful, experienced, and courageous general, was also much lamented.  “The misfortune from their death,” said Parma, “is not to be exaggerated.  Each was ever ready to do his duty in your Majesty’s service, and to save me much fatigue in all my various affairs.  Nevertheless,” continued the Prince, with great piety, “we give the Lord thanks for all, and take as a favour everything which comes from His hand.”

Alexander had indeed reason to deplore the loss of Robert de Melun, Viscount of Ghent, Marquis of Roubaix and Richebourg.  He was a most valuable officer.  His wealth was great.  It had been recently largely increased by the confiscation of his elder brother’s estates for his benefit, a measure which at Parma’s intercession had been accorded by the King.  That brother was the patriotic Prince of Espinoy, whom we have recently seen heading the legation of the States to France.  And Richebourg was grateful to Alexander, for besides these fraternal spoils, he had received two marquisates through his great patron, in addition to the highest military offices.  Insolent, overbearing, truculent to all the world, to Parma he was ever docile, affectionate, watchful, obsequious.  A man who knew not fatigue, nor fear, nor remorse, nor natural affection, who could patiently superintend all the details of a great military work, or manage a vast political intrigue by alternations of browbeating and bribery, or lead a forlorn hope, or murder a prisoner in cold blood, or leap into the blazing crater of what seemed a marine volcano, the Marquis of Richebourg had ever made himself most actively and unscrupulously useful to his master.  Especially had he rendered invaluable services in the reduction, of the Walloon Provinces, and in the bridging of the Scheldt, the two crowning triumphs of Alexander’s life.  He had now passed from the scene where he had played so energetic and dazzling a part, and lay doubled round an iron cable beneath the current of the restless river.

And in this eventful night, Parma, as always, had been true to himself and to his sovereign.  “We expected,” said he, “that the rebels would instantly attack us on all sides after the explosion.  But all remained so astonished by the unheard-of accident, that very few understood what was going on.  It seemed better that I—­notwithstanding the risk of letting myself be seen—­should encourage the people not to run away.  I did so, and remedied matters a little but not so much as that—­if the enemy had then attacked us—­we should not have been in the very greatest risk and peril.  I did not fail to do what I am obliged to do, and always hope to do; but I say no more of what passed, or what was done by myself, because it does not become me to speak of these things.”