tormentors. The junior lieutenant saw them cowering away to seek
shelter, and laughed out loud; then he flung his shako before him into
the fort, and led the sepoys back to the charge, and right over the
breastwork--bareheaded and cheering. He was shot down inside, and lived
only a few hours, all the time in horrible agony; but Western told us
that Bayard or Sidney could have made no braver or calmer ending."

"You are right," Livingstone said. "The Roundheads fought fully as well
as the Cavaliers. I only know of two instances where the thoroughbreds
had the advantage of a contrast. One was when the Scottish regiment took
the island in the Rhine; the other was the exploit of the _Gants
Glacés_. Don't you know it? It's worth hearing.

"They were attacking some town in the wars of the Fronde. The breach was
scarcely practicable, and the best of the besieging army had recoiled
from it with great loss. The Black Mousquetaires stood by in all the
coquetry of scarf, and plume, and fringed scented gloves, laughing
louder at each repulse of the Linesmen. The soldiers heard them and
gnashed their teeth. At last there was a murmur, and then a shout--_'En
avant les Gants Glacés!'_ They wanted to see 'the swells' beaten too.
Then the Household Brigade went up and carried the breach, leaving a
third of their number on it. The general in command made the whole army
defile past their _guidon_, and salute it with sloped standards.

"No; very few men are physical cowards in battle, whatever they may be
across country. I don't believe Paris was, when he ran from Menelaüs;
and Helen did not think so, though she teased him about it, or she would
never have spoken to him again. I rather imagine his feeling was that of
a certain Guardsman of our acquaintance, who said, declining the ordeal
of combat, that 'his first duty was to his partners, and this did not