A vast amount of spoil fell into the hands of the victors: among it were eighty standards and all the artillery save two pieces.

The prisoners numbered six thousand men, of whom six hundred were gentlemen of position.

Of De Montmorency's fine army of twenty-two thousand men all were slain or captured, save five thousand. Among the slain were some of the noblest of the sons of France, notably Jean de Bourbon, Count d'Enghien, a prince of the blood.

On the side of the Spaniards less than a thousand fell, among them being Count Brederode (who perished in the morass, smothered in his armour) and Counts Spiegelbourg and Waldeck.

On the next day King Philip himself rode into the camp; he had left Brussels and was at Cambrai when the battle took place. He was received with all the honours of war—with unbounded enthusiasm!

The unhappy prisoners were paraded before him in long procession, and the captured standards were placed at his feet—the camp was delirious with joy.

A council of war was forthwith held to decide on future operations.

With fiery zeal Egmont and Gonzaga urged that an immediate march on Paris should be made.

"Send me on with the cavalry, sire, and I promise you that in four days you shall sup in Paris!" cried Egmont.

But Philip was as cautious as his renowned father, Charles the Fifth, was adventurous.

When the news of the battle reached the abdicated Emperor, his first inquiry was "whether Philip was in Paris."

There were many difficulties to be surmounted ere that glorious consummation could be reached, and Philip laid them before the council.

"St. Quentin must first be taken! Between them and Paris there existed many a strong fortress, and wide rivers which must be crossed. Moreover, Paris would not surrender lightly—its citizens could man the walls with forty thousand men at least.

"Again, Condé and Nevers, with the relics of the broken army, must be reckoned with. Ere long Guise would come to their support."

So the King argued, and the council reluctantly agreed that all their efforts should now be concentrated on the capture of St. Quentin.

Before the council broke up King Philip called Egmont to him, and taking the collar of the Golden Fleece from his own person, placed it upon the neck of the Count as the real hero of the day!

All Spain ratified the King's deed; "Egmont and St. Quentin" became the rallying cry of the nation, and the fame of the brave Hollander reached the farthest limits of the mighty empire over which Philip ruled.

With royal generosity Philip bestowed rich rewards on the chieftains assembled in council that day. To Savoy princely rank and high office near his person, and to all others guerdons according to their rank.

There was a great meeting in Egmont's tent that night. Thither came the English lords—Pembroke, Gray, and Clinton—and at the banquet-table sat Spanish and Flemish nobles of high degree, many of them bearing the traces of battle upon them, yet all were jubilant and triumphant.

Behind the great chiefs stood their aides-de-camp, according to Spanish custom, and among these young warriors were Geoffrey, Ralph, and William.

Ere the revelry had grown to its height and had become uproarious, Egmont's eye fell upon the three English youths and, with the generosity of his noble nature, he called them before him, inquired their name, and shook each by the hand.

"You rode well to-day, my gallant young soldiers, and I saw you deal many a lusty blow for the honour of Spain and the Netherlands," he said. "I marked how you stood by the fallen Constable, and though two Spaniards, as I hear, claim the honour of his capture, you certainly rescued his body. You will not forget the day of St. Quentin: I will give you something whereby to remember it."

Then he called his major-domo to him, and taking a huge gold goblet into his hand, he cried—

"Fill this goblet with golden ducats."

It was soon done, for King Philip had given him five thousand that day.

"Take it, boys, and divide the money among you and toss for the cup! Well do you deserve it. England may be proud of her sons if they are all such as you!"

What wonder that Almoral, Count Egmont, was the hero, the darling, almost the demi-god of those who served under his banner.

This was the bright and glittering side of war. Alas! how little men recked of the desolation, death, despair and destruction it caused! How little thought they in Egmont's tent that night of the unburied dead whose cold bodies lay on the blood-stained battlefield of St. Quentin! How little of the broken hearts, the shattered hopes, the desolate homes in the fair regions of sunny France when the news of that fatal day should be borne to the humiliated but proud nation!

The next day the Spanish camp resounded with the preparations for the renewed siege of St. Quentin. Fresh batteries were thrown up on all sides on which the artillery, captured from the French, was planted, and, ere many hours had passed, a furious cannonade burst forth upon the crumbling fortifications of the doomed city. Mines were planted, and galleries excavated almost to the very centre of St. Quentin.

Yet no thought of surrender occupied the valiant heart of Admiral Coligni!

It was at this point that his heroism and devotion to duty reached its height. He knew that the hopes of France depended upon the city being held till succour came, till the conquering army under Guise could arrive!

The able-bodied men of his garrison numbered but eight hundred, and these were half-starved and well-nigh worn out by incessant exertion.

By night, by day, sleepless yet indefatigable, the gallant Admiral shared the dangers and the labours of his men; cheering, exhorting, praising every desperate deed of valour and immediately rewarding it, the Admiral was the very life and soul of the defence!

Help came to him unexpectedly.

De Nevers, with the relics of the shattered army, still lingered in the neighbourhood, and he managed to throw one hundred and fifty arquebusiers into the town, though thrice that number perished in the attempt.

Coligni formed countermines, and in subterranean regions fierce combats took place between the besieged and the besiegers,—men fought like demons!

Yet he knew that the last provisions were being consumed, that huge breaches were being made in the crumbling walls which St. Remy, the renowned French engineer, strove to repair, under cover of night, with desperate energy. Huge timbers were dragged to the top of the tottering ramparts, and under their shelter the arquebusiers kept up a perpetual fire on the Spaniards.

Thus the siege went on till August 27. In vain did Coligni scan the horizon from the top of the cathedral tower—Guise came not!

A most furious cannonade from the Spanish batteries on the night of the twenty-sixth had resulted in the making of eleven great breaches in the ramparts, and the Duke of Savoy saw that the time had come for a general assault upon the city.

Early in the morning he put his whole force under arms, assigning to the English contingent the honour of leading the assault.

Coligni saw that the decisive hour was at hand. He filled the breaches with his troops, taking charge of the most dangerous one himself, while his brother Daudelot took another almost equally critical.

The spirit of the defenders was magnificent, each man felt that the end was near, and they were prepared to die under the ruins of the city; none thought of surrender, no white flag was unfurled!

Savoy preluded the general assault by a furious cannonade, and it was not till the afternoon that the signal was given by the shrill voices of the trumpets for the great onslaught.

Then the English rushed forward, closely followed by Spaniards, Germans, and Flemish in generous rivalry. King Philip beheld the wondrous scene from a neighbouring hill, and his troops, knowing that they were fighting under the eye of their Sovereign, were inspired with heroic zeal.

It was a titanic struggle!

For a whole hour the gaunt and famished Frenchmen held their foes in check, and at length the Spaniards were driven off—not a single breach had been carried.

Savoy gave his men a brief breathing time, then the clarions pealed forth their wild notes again, and the fierce strife burst forth anew.

The Duc's keen eye had noted a weak point in the defence.

A strong tower on the ramparts had been left with few defenders, in reliance upon its apparent invulnerability. On this point Savoy hurled the English contingent, and in one great rush it was carried and the invaders poured into the city.

In vain ............