of the Ritters, rushed in with several of his friends. All was in confusion. De Vivans claimed the Pavilion and its contents as the acknowledged right of the King of Navarre, as general of the army; while the Ritters, such indeed as were lively enough, swore they would sooner give up their lives than the spoil, Schwartz said he knew not the laws of the French camp, but in his own country, the first comer always drank first, but, in pure good feeling, handed the cup after a draught to his less fortunate comrade; and so in the present instance, they should keep what they had got, and willingly leave the rest to their brave general, the King of Na

varre.

But De Vivans swore that his men-at-arms should strip them instantly, and gave orders to that effect; while he himself, and several of the nobles, guarded the entrance till the arrival of his men. Schwartz and his friends, however, awaking their drunken comrades with kicks and blows, the whole corps were in motion, each man grasping as much of the costly plate and garments as he could snatch at, while the more sober stood on their guard with their swords drawn, awaiting the decision of Schwartz, who, after looking about for a moment or two, exclaimed- "We have crossed our noble Rhine-stream, Marshal-and we have crossed your shallow Loire-and would, if we were angry, cross your iron trunks; but we have not the soul to fight against fellow-soldiers! Ritters, to the right! The holy virgins to our rescue!-Follow !"

And so saying, he turned round, and with a blow, cut through the cloth of the Pavilion, and escaped; while his comrades, using their weapons with equal efficacy, followed his example, turning round to ward off a few blows, which the Marshal and his friends intended for them. ended their exploits of that day.

So

Never was victory more complete than that of Coutras. Navarre, after pursuing the scattered enemy, and dispersing them beyond the hope of reunion, returned to the camp of the Catholics, and indulged his brave army with the sacking of the encampment, reserving for himself what the Ritters had spared of the Pavilion of De Joyeuse, where he slept that night.

"Another day's rest," said the morning subsequent to the victoy, German camp beyond the Loire! Paris itself is in our power!"

King to his officers, the "and we'll march to the And from that moment,

No despicable gleanings are to be picked up on a field of battle, if the gleaners be humble-minded and industrious; rich armour-gold coin-bright weapons-and here and there a wounded man of rank, whose ransom may be worth the trouble of healing his wounds-are to be found. And of these matters, none were so well persuaded as the Ritters, and so rightly inclined to the task.

The Albanians, whose object in leaving the arena of contest was the plunder of the Huguenots' camp, were sadly disappointed in their expectations; they did not reap one tithe of the spoil which fell to the Ritters' share from the gleaning of the field, on the day subsequent to the victory; and after stealing what was available at Coutras, and swearing at their bad luck, they escaped by a route leading to Tours.

On the evening previous to the march of Navarre for for the banks of the Loire, Ezzelin introduced himself into the presence of the Baron De Nevailles, his face big with a tale of wonder. He began to relate, that while Fritz was stripping off the armour of one slain in the fight, the little trooper, of a sudden, uttered a loud cry, and fell on his knees; and his face became so pale, and changed from its ordinary expression, that his comrades, who were busy harvesting close at hand, thought he was about to die.

"And punish him rightly," said De Nevailles; "both he and your comrades have taken as much as would provide pay and rations for the whole army for a month to come."

"Monsiegneur has charged with us," replied Ezzelin, drily; "we did not touch the iron chest which held the great Duke's money-we knew that to be the right of his Majesty. But to-day we have been on the field to look after our poor comrades, and give them Christian burial." "So you expected your dead comrades had crept into the corselets of nobles!" said the Baron interrupting him. "Not exactly," rejoined the trooper, "but Fritz was curious, and was punished for it. When we ran up to him, we saw the body of the lieutenant, son of old Von Freiberg!"

"Son of Baron Von Freiberg!" exclaimed De Nevailles, starting with surprise; "he is dead—I mean he died before-no, that could not be it is a mystery."

"And what is worse," continued Ezzelin, "he must

have fought against us. all the gentlemen of our army, as Monseigneur knows, displayed a white scarf, as a token of their party. We buried him, however."

He wore a black scarf; while

"You are certain of that, I hope," cried the Baron, he may. visit us again."

66

or

De Nevailles could scarcely sleep that night, but lay pondering on his strange rencontre with the young student--for such he now felt assured was the cavalier of the black scarf, or knight of the bend sinister. But what gave him most uneasiness in the unexpected reappearance of the lieutenant, was his connexion with the fate of Emilie. That Freiberg had fallen, stunned and insensible, he could not doubt; but he might have revived in time to wreak his vengeance on her and her protector! The thought was madness;-it added bitterness and an apprehension of evil to the memory of their last interview -her figure was ever present to his mind, surrounded with dangers; nor could he dissipate the images which his own imagination had created.

With a foreboding of evil and a sense of depression, to which his confident and aspiring mind had hitherto been a stranger, he arose, amid the clanging of trumpets and the loud note of preparation, to commence a rapid march to the banks of that river, which he had crossed with so much difficulty and glory.

The main body of the army had reached Limoges, when De Vivans, whom Navarre had ordered to push forward with a regiment of arquebusiers, to disperse a strong corps of Swiss still in arms, returned with news of the most alarming and disastrous character. It was to the effect, that the Germans with Casimir and D'Alençon had been completely routed; that Guise, under cover of the night, had attacked and set fire to their encampment at Auneau pouring a most destructive fire upon the affrighted soldiers as they rushed from the flames. A panic ensued ;—the efforts of Casimir and the French Prince were alike useless in attempting to restore confidence; they had scarcely time to save themselves by flight from the fangs of the Protector, who found himself, ere morning, victor over that immense but irregular armament, which threatened to do so much, and had performed so little.

Navarre was unwilling to believe intelligence so fatal to his hopes, the fortunes, and the security of his brave army,

but every day brought stronger confirmation of its truth. Casimir, it was said, had escaped back to Germany, while D'Alençon had retired to his castle at Chateau Thierry, broken hearted at his disappointment and ruin.

In this dilemma, the King held a consultation with his officers and nobles, at which they came to the resolution, that it was both dangerous and useless to advance farther, and incur the risk of being circumvented, either by the Protector, or the forces of Valois under the Duke D'Espernon at Orleans. And as October was nearly past, and winter approaching, which would render the roads imprac ticable, Navarre dismissed the noblesse to their own homes, receiving from each a promise to join his standard in the spring of the next year. The remainder of the army he quartered in the towns possessed by the Huguenots, retaining only a division of two thousand mounted arquebusiers, with which he traversed the provinces under his care, succouring his friends from the irruptions of the Catholics, who continued the warfare on a petty scale throughout the winter.

Thus ended, at one fell swoop, the high-built hopes of the Huguenots and their princely leader, whose sorrow was augmented by the death, either through poison or grief, of his eccentric and fanciful friend D'Alençon, who died at Chateau Thierry, where he had fled for refuge.

De Nevailles, who found the cares and vicissitudes of life cling closer to him than he desired-who reproached himself for the folly of suffering his heart to become attached to any being, whose good or ill fortune, whose smile or frown had power to affect his own happiness, not merely momentarily but enduringly-who yet adored the quiet beauty whose uncertain fate was the cause of his pain;-who adored her, though if his fancy had been previously questioned, it would have selected one after his own character, as D'Usez and her compeeresses -was now destined to perform an office which he would willingly have transferred to another, and which brought sensibly to his mind the depths of his own inquietude.

With a safe-conduct from the Catholics, we must leave him on his journey to Saumur, where the Dutchess De Joyeuse had resided since her parting with her lord, and where she was des tined to receive his last words from the mouth of De Nevailles,

CHAPTER XXIV.

Be ruled by me, and we will take the realm;
In any case take heed of childish fear,
For now we hold the she-wolf by the ears,
That if she slip will seize upon us both,
And gripe the sorer, being gript herself.

OLD PLAY.

DURING the winter following the important events just narrated, Catherine was busily engaged in availing herself of the errors of her enemies, and repairing the disasters of her friends and military chiefs. But her task was difficult, and its success uncertain; for her policy was contingent on each succeeding wave of contention, and changed, like the vane, with every wind that blew over the political hemisphere. Yet was she true to her own cause, and tacked and retacked, so as to avail herself of the most opposite currents, in guiding the vessel freighted with the fortunes of herself and the dynasty of Valois, through an ocean where a less skilfully conducted bark would have foundered.

Navarre was, for a time at least, politically extinguished, but his enemy and her own was more powerful than ever; the sun of his destiny was increasing in splendour; the victory achieved over the Germans gave him possession of a fourth part of the kingdom, and he ruled in the provinces subject to his control like a sovereign prince-and, more fortunate than Catherine, retained the affections not only of the Burgundians, but also of those subjects over whom she exercised an ill-obeyed sway.

But the active spirits of her enemies were gradually bringing on a crisis, which threatened to decide at once the question between legitimacy and rebellion; between the priesthood with their protector, and Valois and the friends of his rule. The Duchess of Montpensier, with her esquire and secretary the Chevalier d'Aumale, had been unceasing in their endeavours to discipline the citizens into subordination and obedience to the League; and in this matter they succeeded to their hearts'

content.

In the beginning of May, the duchess determined to submit no longer to a delay which chafed her soul with unsatisfied VOL. II. G