“is poor; he will not be able to bear very long the expense of the war, and his allies will leave him as soon as he has no more money; wait but a little, and success is certain.” Charles flew into a passion. “My father and I,” said he, “knew how to thrash these Lorrainers; and we will make them remember it. By St. George! I will not fly before a boy, before Rend of Vaudemont, who is coming at the head of this scum. He has not so many men with him as people think; the Germans have no idea of leaving their stoves in winter. This evening we will deliver the assault against the town, and to-morrow we will give battle.” And the next day, January the 5th, the battle did take place, in the plain of Nancy. The Duke of Burgundy assumed his armor very early in the morning. When he put on his helmet, the gilt lion, which formed the crest of it, fell off. “That is a sign from God!” said he; but, nevertheless, he went and drew up his army in line of battle. The day but one before, Campo-Basso had drawn off his troops to a considerable distance; and he presented himself before Duke Rene, having taken off his red scarf and his cross of St. Andrew, and being quite ready, he said, to give proofs of his zeal on the spot. Rene spoke about it to his Swiss captains. “We have no mind,” said they, “to have this traitor of an Italian fighting beside us; our fathers never made use of such folk or such practices in order to conquer.” And Campo-Basso held aloof. The battle began in gloomy weather, and beneath heavy flakes of snow, lasted but a short time, and was not at all murderous in the actual conflict, but the pursuit was terrible. Campo-Basso and his troops held the bridge of Bouxieres, by which the Burgundian fugitives would want to pass; and the Lorrainerss of Rend and his Swiss and German allies scoured the country, killing all with whom they fell in. Rend returned to Nancy in the midst of a population whom his victory had delivered from famine as well as war. “To show him what sufferings they had endured,” says M. de Barante, “they conceived the idea of piling up in a heap, before the door of his hostel, the heads of the horses, dogs, mules, cats, and other unclean animals which had for several weeks past been the only food of the besieged.” When the first burst of joy was over, the question was, what had become of the Duke of Burgundy; nobody had a notion; and his body was not found amongst the dead in any of the places where his most valiant and faithful warriors had fallen. The rumor ran that he was not dead; some said that one of his servants had picked him up wounded on the field of battle, and was taking care of him, none knew where; and according to others, a German lord had made him prisoner, and carried him off beyond the Rhine. “Take good heed,” said many people, “how ye comport yourselves otherwise than if he were still alive, for his vengeance would be terrible on his return.” On the evening of the day