Belle Rose: A Romance of the Cloak and Sword — page 44: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

34 THE SKIRMISH. as soon as they saw their opponents moving forward. The shock was terrible; the fusillade burst along ali the line, and the cavaliers clashed together with saber and pistol in hand. For a moment one might have believed success to be doubtful. The combatants formed a single moving mass bound by anger and the savage love of blood; from this confused mass mounted a noise of steel mixed with howl- ings of death. At each moment a man disappeared in the midst of that ocean of heads which was surrounded by a thousand flashes of light, where sounded the din of arms, and the space was contracted; but the discharges of Mon. sieur du Coudrais’ grenadiers, who were fighting in good order, had lit up the enemy’s ranks; the Hungarians, crushed under a hail of balls coming from every side at the same time, pressed by the fiery impetuosity of the cavaliers who were inflamed by Monsieur d’Assonville’s example, gave way and lost ground. A soldier looked back, another turned bridle, a third threw himself all armed into the Ternoise, ten or twelve took to flight, an entire squadron gave way, then finally the whole troop recoiled in a frightful disorder. ‘‘Forward!’’ again cried Monsieur d‘Assonville, and urging his horse up to the last combatants, he precipitated the whole troop into the river. When the horses plunged their feet in the water it was a rout. Hungarians and Croats rode away, ata gallop, throwing aside their mus- kets, and the saber cut to pieces the fugitives. Jacques saw for the first time and in close proximity all the horrors of combat. Emotion made his lips tremble; but the prancing of the horses, the flashing of swords, the noise of the explosions, the odor of powder, excited his youthful courage; he brandished his saber with a firm hand and rushed straight before him. A Croat whom he rubbed against in his course fired a pistol almost in his face; the ball traversed Jacques’ hat two inches from his forehead. Jacques replied by a furious thrust. The Croat fell upon his back with extended arms; the saber had en- tered his throat. Jacques felt spouting upon his hand the warm and boiling blood. He looked at the paling soldier who was carried away by his frightened horse. It was the first man he had killed. Jacques lowered his saber point and shivered, but he was in the first row, and the whirl- wind pushed him forward. In the midst of the mélée Jacques encountered Monsieur d’Assonville and staid by his side. These two were the first to make their horses enter the reddened river, but. when only fugitives were Eomichbooks.c m