On the next day (August 10), Montmorenci brought up his main body, and tried to cast reinforcements into the town by boats across the Somme. This was found to be impracticable, and Montmorenci was urged by his men to retire. He had the river and a morass between himself and Savoy’s army, and thought he was safe, but by fords and causeways unknown to him, 6000 fine Burgundian cavalry and a body of the invincible Spanish infantry crossed to his side. Then when it was too late he gave the order to retire. The retreat soon became a rout. Six thousand French troops were killed, as many more captured, all the artillery taken, Montmorenci a prisoner, and there was no force between Savoy’s victorious army of 50,000 men and the gates of Paris. Here was Philip’s chance--a chance never to occur again. During the short campaign he had remained at Valenciennes and Brussels, and on the day of St. Quintin he was in the city of Cambrai. His vocation was not war, and he knew it. Bells were rung, Te Deums were sung, and the day after the battle Philip visited his victorious army; but his professed regret at his absence from the fray was not so deep as that of his father when he heard the news. The Duke of Savoy begged to be allowed to follow up his victory by a march upon the capital, but over-caution was always Philip’s fault, and he would take no undue risk. He doubtless recollected his own remarks about his father’s invasion of France and the disaster of Metz. “The emperor,” he said, “had marched into France eating peacocks, and had marched out eating turnips.” When Charles at Yuste heard of the victory, he at once asked whether Philip had yet arrived before Paris. But the war was not ended yet, and brave Coligny in the town of St. Quintin held out against terrible odds until August 27, when it was taken by assault. The sacking and pillage of the devoted town and the heartrending cruelty wreaked upon the defenceless people, mainly by the German mercenaries, will ever remain one of the most horrible episodes of history. Philip had given orders that women and children should be spared, but his instructions were set at naught, and when, on the third day after the capture, he entered the city, he saw such sights as left upon him impressions of horror which he never forgot. Philip’s army, of various nationalities, was then divided amongst the French towns he had captured. The rascally German mercenaries quarrelled and left him in large numbers, many to join the French. The English were sulky--the Spaniards complained of their conduct before St. Quintin. Wages were in arrears, their hearts were not in the fight, and they demanded leave to go home. Philip could not risk unpopularity in England by refusal, and let them go.