Loup was covered with soldiers, strewn
with dying and dead. A horrible sort of fight was going on,
horrible to us, because the French were in full retreat before our
foe, going down like sheep before the butcher's knife, rushing
panic stricken hither and thither as men demented, whilst the
English soldiers, as though ashamed of their recent inaction and
paralysis, were fiercely pursuing, shouting "Kill! kill! kill!" as
they went about their work of slaughter, driving back their
enemies, and striking at them remorselessly.
Here and there a brave officer, with his band of chosen followers,
would be presenting a bold face to the foe, making a stand and
seeking to rally the flying ranks. I was certain that I saw De
Gamache himself, hewing his way like a very Paladin through the
ranks of the English, and dealing death and destruction wherever he
went. But the valour of a few had no power to turn the fortunes of
the field; and the rout had already begun, when the Maid and her
attendants, closely followed by an enthusiastic band of soldiers
and citizens, dashed forth from the Burgundy Gate, and mingled with
the flying French hastening towards the city for safety.
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