"Remember, brave hearts," cried Count Louis, "that we are fighting for
the Admiral! We must die for Coligny!"

He himself displayed the most wonderful bravery; nothing daunted him;
beset by death on every hand he remained cool and resolute, rallying us
after every onset, rousing the faint-hearted by his own indomitable
courage.

At last the blessed darkness came to our relief. The rain of bullets
ceased; we no longer heard the thundering beat of galloping horses in
our rear, were no longer called to face about in order to repel some
fierce cavalry charge. The pursuit had stopped; the victors had returned
to celebrate their triumph.

We marched on in the darkness of the night, gloomy and weary. Some were
too tired and dispirited even to talk; others--but only a few--grumbled
bitterly at their leaders, telling each other that if this or that had
been done, we should have gained the victory. Many of the poor fellows
were badly hurt; some sank exhausted to the ground, from which they
would never rise again.

At Parthenay we overtook the Admiral and the few troops he had been able
to collect. When morning came, Felix was one of the first to meet me,
and I had never seen him so down-hearted. His bright smile, his happy,
cheery looks had all gone; he hung his head in shame.

"It is terrible, Edmond," he said; "the Cause is ruined, and we are
disgraced. I would rather we had all died on the field."

"Nonsense!" I replied, endeavouring to hearten him; "we are of far more