It was as though their foe had dropped from the clouds. So near was the range that the Duke of Savoy's tent was levelled to the ground, and Philibert had barely time to escape, carrying his armour in his hand! He took refuge in the quarters of the commander of the cavalry, Count Egmont. This brief success seemed to Montmorency to be the presage of victory, and Daudelot was sent with a strong force to cross the river and the morass, and so bring succour to the besieged town. Meanwhile the French army would keep the Spaniards in check. Soon the arquebusiers, in their heavy armour, were plunging horribly in the quagmires of the morass, and by this time the Spanish artillery was dealing death among them. Moreover, boats were required, and only four could be found; and these, heavily laden with soldiers and the munitions of war, crossed and recrossed the river slowly and with great difficulty. Two, overladen with their burdens, sank in the deep waters, and the shouts and screams of the drowning men added to the horrors of the scene. Eventually Daudelot, with five hundred men, reached the gates of St. Quentin; all the rest perished miserably. Montmorency now gave the order to retreat; a strong reinforcement (though at great loss) had been thrown into the city, and so far his object was effected. Meanwhile, a brief council of war was held in Egmont's tent, in which the fiery vehemence of the Count carried everything before it. The Duke of Savoy urged _caution_. The French army was so situated that the Spanish infantry, on which he placed his chief confidence, could not act effectually against it. But the cavalry officers carried the day. "Shall we let so rich a prize escape?" cried Egmont, with wild enthusiasm. "Heaven has placed within our power the destruction of the flower of the French army, a Prince of the blood royal, and the great Constable Montmorency. Capture them, and St. Quentin will be ours to- morrow; and, by the grace of God, Paris will follow!" And, as he spoke, the auburn locks which fell over his shoulders shook like a lion's mane; his eyes flashed fire, his burning eloquence was irresistible! -------------- From the English quarters, where every man was drawn up in battle array, Lord Clinton watched the progress of the battle and the movements of the contending armies, ready at any moment to take part therein. He marked the Spanish cavalry drawing together in one dense mass in Egmont's quarters. By his side stood his young aides-de-camp. "It will be a cavalry battle, I fear," he cried, "and England will have no share in the glory of the day!" The young men around him, full of martial fire and thirsting for conflict and victory, groaned audibly in dismay. Then Clinton turned suddenly to his faithful three, whom he had learned to love.