The allusion to the young prince Rhetelois and to De Vich, who had lost a
leg in the wars, was received with much enthusiasm. Balagny, appalled at
the fury of the people, whom he had so long been trampling upon while
their docility lasted, shrank back before their scornful denunciations
into the citadel.

But his wife was not appalled. This princess had from the beginning of
the siege showed a courage and an energy worthy of her race. Night and
day she had gone the rounds of the ramparts, encouraging and directing
the efforts of the garrison. She had pointed batteries against the
enemy's works, and, with her own hands, had fired the cannon. She now
made her appearance in the market-place, after her husband had fled, and
did her best to assuage the tumult, and to arouse the mutineers to a
sense of duty or of shame. She plucked from her bosom whole handfuls
of gold which she threw among the bystanders, and she was followed by a
number of carts filled with sacks of coin ready to be exchanged for the
debased currency.

Expressing contempt for the progress made by the besieging army, and for
the, slight impression so far produced upon the defences of the city, she
snatched a pike from a soldier and offered in person to lead the garrison
to the breach. Her audience knew full well that this was no theatrical
display, but that the princess was ready as the boldest warrior to lead
a forlorn hope or to repel the bloodiest assault. Nor, from a military
point of view, was their situation desperate. But their hatred and scorn
for Balagny could not be overcome by any passing sentiment of admiration
for his valiant though imperious wife. No one followed her to the
breach. Exclaiming that she at least would never surrender, and that
she would die a sovereign princess rather than live a subject, Renee de