That same night a different scene took place in the great military tent of Lord Clinton: he was entertaining the Lords Pembroke and Gray, and many of the leaders of the Spanish army were there. The night was chilly, and a fine rain was falling. Around the camp fire sat warriors of world-wide fame, and the English aides-de-camp, watchful for the comforts of their lord's guests, marked each word that fell from their lips. Especially did Almoral, Count Egmont, call forth their fervent admiration. "He is like a young war-god," whispered Ralph to William. "Never saw I so glorious a specimen of the _genus homo_. Oh, to follow such a leader as that into the hot din of battle!" "Listen to what he is saying," replied his brother in a low voice; "methinks our chance of such an honour will soon come." For Almoral was relating how that very night his reiters had captured a messenger sent by Coligni to Montmorency. "He had short shrift, I suppose!" said Brederode, with a hoarse laugh. "By my faith, no!" replied Egmont. "When I had read his message, I sent him on his way to the French Constable, and bade him deliver it duly. For this was the message— "'Par l'amour de Dieu, des sècours, ou nous allons perir.'" "You did well, Egmont," said Philibert of Savoy, "for I know the fiery old Constable well, and this message will sting him to frenzy. "Ah! would that to-morrow were the day of battle; for, mark you, we stand in a strange position of peril. In front of us is St. Quentin, which we dare not abandon. Northward lies the French army, while from the south Guise is hurrying up with his victorious army from Italy. "We may be caught between three fires unless we can destroy this French army and capture St. Quentin before Guise can arrive. And if we can do this, as by the help of Heaven we shall, there lies no other fortified city between us and Paris, and Guise may arrive to find us in possession of that noble city." The guests rose with one consent and cheered lustily. They drew their swords and clashed them overhead with fierce joy! "Yes," whispered Ralph to William again, "we shall fight to-morrow, and may you and I be in the thick of the strife!" Saturday, August 9th, broke hazily; St. Quentin was enveloped in a thick mist which arose from the swampy plain surrounding it. At early dawn Montmorency put his whole army in motion; he would relieve St. Quentin, or perish! His first effort was attended with surprising success. Intervening low hills hid the advance of his troops from the Spaniards, and thus he was able to secure possession of a windmill which commanded a ford over the Somme, which led to the Spanish camp. The mill was held by a small force of the enemy, but Montmorency quickly captured it and placed there a strong garrison under the Prince of Condé. The main body pressed across the ford, and the artillery opened a heavy fire on the Spanish camp, to the infinite surprise of the Spaniards.