and he took his meals near the outer defences, that he might lose no opportunity of superintending the labors of his troops.  One day his dinner was laid for himself and staff in the open air, close to the entrenchment.  He was himself engaged in planting a battery against a weak point in the city wall, and would on no account withdraw for all instant.  The tablecloth was stretched over a number of drum-heads, placed close together, and several, nobles of distinction—­Aremberg, Montigny, Richebourg, La Motte, and others, were his guests at dinner.  Hardly had the repast commenced, when a ball came flying over the table, taking off the head of a, young Walloon officer who was sitting near Parma, and, who was earnestly requesting a foremost place in the morrow’s assault.  A portion of his skull struck out the eye of another gentleman present.  A second ball from the town fortifications, equally well directed, destroyed two more of the guests as they sat at the banquet—­one a German captain, the other the Judge-Advocate-General.  The blood and brains of these unfortunate individuals were strewn over the festive board, and the others all started to their feet, having little appetite left for their dinner.  Alexander alone remained in his seat, manifesting no discomposure.  Quietly ordering the attendants to remove the dead bodies, and to bring a clean tablecloth, he insisted that his guests should resume their places at the banquet which had been interrupted in such ghastly fashion.  He stated with very determined aspect that he could not allow the heretic burghers of Oudenarde the triumph of frightening him from his dinner, or from the post of danger.  The other gentlemen could, of course, do no less than imitate the impassibility of their chief, and the repast was accordingly concluded without further interruption.  Not long afterwards, the city, close pressed by so determined a commander, accepted terms, which were more favorable by reason of the respect which Alexander chose to render to his mother’s birthplace.  The pillage was commuted for thirty thousand, crowns, and on the 5th of July the place was surrendered to Parma almost under the very eyes of Anjou, who was making a demonstration of relieving the siege.

Ninove, a citadel then belonging to the Egmont family, was next reduced.  Here, too, the defence was more obstinate than could have been expected from the importance of the place, and as the autumn advanced, Parma’s troops were nearly starved in their trenches, from the insufficient supplies furnished them.  They had eaten no meat but horseflesh for weeks, and even that was gone.  The cavalry horses were all consumed, and even the chargers of the officers were not respected.  An aid-de-camp of Parma fastened his steed one day at the door of the Prince’s tent, while he entered to receive his commander’s instructions.  When he came out again, a few minutes afterwards, he found nothing but the saddle and bridle hanging where he had fastened the horse.  Remonstrance was useless, for the animal had already been cut into quarters, and the only satisfaction offered to the aid-de-camp was in the shape of a steak.  The famine was long familiarly known as the “Ninove starvation,” but notwithstanding this obstacle, the place was eventually surrendered.