"Upon them, upon them, lucky captain!" cried the men; and, though we had the hill against us, we galloped up with our lances levelled against the enemy, who were already in a state of hesitation and confusion from the unexpected fire they had encountered, and who began to fly at the very sound of charging horse, which they could not see sufficiently to distinguish the numbers. In this terrible state we drove them in, one tumbling over the other, horses and torches, officers and men, all full well frightened out of their wits, and more than one meeting the fate of a coward by the stroke of a lance in the back. One man had brought out, it would seem, with him the cornet of his troop, and had very nearly got into the gap in safety. But I was up with him just as he was struggling to push his way forward before the other fugitives, and I caught hold of the standard pole. Raising the staff of my lance in my hand, I struck him a blow upon the cowardly head that felled him to the earth. "Here, take the cornet, Moric," I cried. "And now, my men, we will wish them good-night." A loud laugh burst from those who heard me, which, I believe, gave to the flyers a greater idea of our being perfectly secure in our numbers than any other part of the affray, and I heard afterward that it was reported in the camp of the Duke d'Anjou that I had beat up the quarters of La Valette with five hundred men. We then passed the stream and the osier bank in safety; and whether we were farther pursued again or not during that night, I cannot tell. With the horse-arquebusiers we easily came up, for they had lingered a moment or two on the opposite slope, with some anxiety about our fate; but we rode on for a considerable way afterward without seeing anything of Louise or her escort, and I began to feel some apprehensions lest they should have missed their way. The fog was increasing in density, the frost was most intense, and, though more than once we halted to listen if horses' feet could be distinguished, not a sound broke the stillness of the night. We had ridden about a league and a half, and it now, for a moment, became a question whether we were ourselves on the right road or not; but the unfailing sagacity of Moric Endem pointed out marks which proved that we were not mistaken. There was a tree here that looked like an old sniffing woman, with a bottle under her arm; there was a small _maiterie_ there, with some trees round it, which looked like a partridge garnished with endive; and on we went in perfect security upon our road for two or three miles farther. "Hark!" cried Moric Endem, as we were going over a gentle slope. "There was a pistol-shot far off to the left. It may be a signal that they have lost their way."