at them with pity, there came an old soldier who asked me if
there were any way to cure them; I said no. And then he went up
to them and cut their throats, gently, and without ill will
toward them. Seeing this great cruelty, I told him he was a
villain: he answered he prayed God, when he should be in such a
plight, he might find someone to do the same for him; that he
should not linger in misery.

To come back to my story, the enemy were called on to surrender,
which they did, and left the city with only their lives saved,
and the white stick in their hands; and most of them went off to
the Chateau de Villane, where about two hundred Spaniards were
stationed. M. the Constable would not leave these behind him,
wishing to clear the road for our own men. The castle is seated
on a small hill; which gave great confidence to those within,
that we could not bring our artillery to bear upon them. They
were summoned to surrender, or they would be cut in pieces: they
answered that they would not, saying they were as good and
faithful servants of the Emperor, as M. the Constable could be of
the King his master. Thereupon our men by night hoisted up two
great cannons, with the help of the Swiss soldiers and the
lansquenets; but as ill luck would have it, when the cannons were
in position, a gunner stupidly set fire to a bag full of
gunpowder, whereby he was burned, with ten or twelve soldiers;
and the flame of the powder discovered our artillery, so that all
night long those within the castle fired their arquebuses at the
place where they had caught sight of the cannons, and many of our
men were killed and wounded. Next day, early in the morning, the
attack was begun, and we soon made a breach in their wall. Then
they demanded a parley; but it was too late, for meanwhile our