"Yes, be silent!" he continued, "and lend me your ears for one moment, my fellow-citizens and good friends, I beseech you. Let us look over together, with your leave, what we have already done, and we may perhaps learn from that what we have still to do. When the enemy sat down before our walls; when we saw this swarm of Spaniards, English, Germans, and Walloons, under the redoubtable Philibert Emmanuel of Savoy, swooping down like locusts around our town,--we bravely accepted our lot, did we not? We did not murmur, nor did we accuse Providence of having cruelly selected St. Quentin as the expiatory sacrifice of France. Far from it; and Monsieur l'Amiral will do us the justice to say that from the very hour of his arrival, bringing us the mighty succor of his experience and valor, we did our best to forward his plans with our persons and our property. We have furnished supplies and money, and have ourselves shouldered the cross-bow and wielded the pick and shovel. Those of us who have not acted as sentinels on the walls have been digging in the town. We have helped to discipline and restore order among the rebellious peasants in the suburbs, who refused to work in payment for the protection we had afforded them. In short, we have done, I honestly believe, everything that could possibly be asked of men whose trade is not war. So we hoped that our lord the king would speedily remember his loyal subjects in St. Quentin, and would send us without delay the succor that we needed; and so it happened. Monsieur de Montmorency came hurrying hither to drive the forces of Philip II. from our gates, and we thanked God and the king; but the fatal day of St. Laurent dashed our hopes to the ground in a few short hours. The constable was taken, his army cut to pieces, and we were left in a more hopeless state than ever. Five days have passed since then, and the enemy have made good use of them. Three fierce assaults have cost us more than two hundred men and whole sections of the walls. The cannon thunders unceasingly. Listen! it echoes my very words. But we do not wish to hear it, and listen only on the side where Paris lies, to hear if we cannot distinguish some sound to announce the arrival of further reinforcement. But no; and our last resources are, so far as we can see, exhausted. The king abandons us, and has many other things to do than to think of us. He must collect around him at Paris all that remains of his forces, and must save the kingdom rather than one poor town; and if he does turn his eyes and his thoughts toward St. Quentin now and then, it is only to ask if its death-agony will last long enough to give France time to recover. But as to hope or chance of relief, there is no more now for us, dear countrymen and friends. Monsieur de Rambouillet and Monsieur de Lauxford have spoken the truth. We lack fortifications and troops; our city is dying; we are abandoned, despairing, and lost!"