The martial pastime was held, and after the supper which succeeded, it was enquired to whom should the prizes (the sleeve and a ruby) be given. The knights, the ladies, and even those who had tourneyed with him, accorded it to Bayard. But he declared that the honour was not his; but that if he had done any thing well, Madame de Fleuxas was the cause, for she had given him her sleeve. He, therefore, prayed that she might be permitted to act according to her judgment and prudence. The Seigneur de Fleuxas knew too well the noble character of Bayard to feel any jealousy at this compliment to his wife, but with the other judges of the tournament he immediately went to her and related the matter. She was delighted at Bayard's gallantry, and declared that as he had done her the honour to avow that her sleeve had made him gain the prize, she would preserve it all her life for the sake of his love. The ruby she gave to the cavalier, who had next distinguished himself to Bayard. And thus lived the knight without fear and without reproach, till the retreat of the French out of Italy in 1524, when he was fatally wounded by a stone discharged from an harquebouze. He fell from his horse, crying, "Jesus, my Saviour, I am dead." He kissed the cross-handle of his sword; and there being no chaplain present, he confessed himself to his esquire, who then, by the knight's command, placed him against a tree, with his face turned towards the enemy; "because," said Bayard, "as I have never yet turned my back to the foe, I will not begin to do so in my last moments." He charged his esquire to tell the King that the only regret he felt at quitting life was the being deprived of the power of serving him any further. The Constable of Bourbon, as he was pursuing the French, found him in this state, and assured him that he pitied his lot. But Bayard replied, "It is not I who stand in need of pity, but you who are carrying arms against your King, your country, and your oath." The news that he was mortally wounded quickly spread, and excited the deepest grief in the minds of both armies, for he was a valiant soldier and a generous foe. After a while he was removed to a tent and placed on a bed. He was shriven by a priest, and soon afterwards died, as, with true Christian piety, he was imploring his God and his Saviour to pardon his sins, and to show him mercy rather than justice.[167] He was buried at a convent of Minims, half a league from Grenoble, the principal town of his native country. [Sidenote: Francis I.]