Albert ceased to defend himself. His eye was fixed solely on the Duke. The horse and rider plunged deep into the river; but the powerful beast, combating the eddies and current, soon appeared on its surface, carrying his master down the stream with the apparent ease and safety of a boat. All this was the affair of a few moments. Some of the Leaguists were for following him along the banks of the river, to seize the bold knight when he landed; but one of them nearest Albert cried, "Let him swim, he is not the right one; here is the prize, in the green cloak,--seize him." Albert, looking up to heaven in grateful thanksgiving for the escape of the Duke, and dropping his sword, surrendered to the Leaguists. They surrounded him, and willingly allowed him to dismount, to pay the last painful offices to the corpse of that man who had been their fearful opponent. Albert took his hand, with which he still kept a firm grasp of his blood-stained axe; it was icy cold. He felt his heart, to discover if there was still life in it; the deadly thrust of the spear had but too faithfully done its office. That eye once so bold was now lifeless, that mouth which bespoke an unbending cheerful mind was closed, the features rigid; but still the smile, that last dying salute with which he greeted his master, played upon his lips. Albert's tears fell on his faithful friend, as he pressed for the last time the cold hand of the fifer of Hardt; he closed his eyes, and, throwing himself upon his horse, followed his enemies to their camp. CHAPTER XXXV. Happy the soldier, all his perils o'er, In peace returning to his native place, When those who love him meet him at the door, And gaze with rapture on the wish'd-for face. SCHILLER.