rather," said Geoffrey de Sargines, "that we had been all slain, or taken
prisoners by the Saracens, than be reproached with having left our king
in pawn." All negotiation was broken off; and on the 5th of April, 1250,
the crusaders decided upon retreating.

This was the most deplorable scene of a deplorable drama; and at the same
time it was, for the king, an occasion for displaying, in their most
sublime and most attractive traits, all the virtues of the Christian.
Whilst sickness and famine were devastating the camp, Louis made himself
visitor, physician, and comforter; and his presence and his words
exercised upon the worst cases a searching influence. He had one day
sent his chaplain, William de Chartres, to visit one of his household
servants, a modest man of some means, named Gaugelme, who was at the
point of death. When the chaplain was retiring, "I am waiting for my
lord, our saintly king, to come," said the dying man; "I will not depart
this life until I have seen him and spoken to him: and then I will die."
The king came, and addressed to him the most affectionate words of
consolation; and when he had left him, and before he had re-entered his
tent, he was told that Gaugelme had expired. When the 5th of April, the
day fixed for the retreat, had come, Louis himself was ill and much
enfeebled. He was urged to go aboard one of the vessels which were to
descend the Nile, carrying the wounded and the most suffering; but he
refused absolutely, saying, "I don't separate from my people in the hour
of danger." He remained on land, and when he had to move forward he
fainted twice. When he came to himself, he was amongst the last to leave
the camp, got himself helped on to the back of a little Arab horse,
covered with silken housings, and marched at a slow pace with the
rear-guard, having beside him Geoffrey de Sargines, who watched over him,
"and protected me against the Saracens," said Louis himself to Joinville,
"as a good servant protects his lord's tankard against the flies."