Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Atlantic Essays

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“ [175] ” : as, for instance, that her attendants should throw them out of the window; that she would pluck off the Marshal's beard; that he should die by no hand but hers, and the like. When it came to this, the Marechal de l'hopital stroked his chin with a sense of insecurity, and called the council away to deliberate; “during which time,” says the softened Princess, “leaning on a window which looked on the St. Esprit, where they were saying mass, I offered up my prayers to God.” At last they came back, and assented to every one of her propositions.

In a moment she was in the. streets again. The first person she met was Vallon, terribly wounded. “We are lost!” he said. “You are saved!” she cried, proudly. “I command to-day in Paris, as I commanded in Orleans.” “Vous me rendez la vie,” said the reanimated soldier, who had been with her in her first campaign. On she went, meeting at every step men wounded in the head, in the body, in the limbs,--on horseback, on foot, on planks, on barrows,--besides the bodies of the slain. She reached the windows beside the Porte St. Antoine, and Conde met her there; he rode up, covered with blood and dust, his scabbard lost, his sword in hand. Before she could speak, that soul of fire uttered, for the only recorded time in his career, the word Despair: “Ma cousine, vous voyez un homme au desespoir,” --and burst into tears. But her news instantly revived him, and his army with him. “Mademoiselle is at the gate,” the soldiers cried; and, with this certainty of a place of refuge, they could do all things. In this famous fight, five thousand men defended themselves against twelve thousand, for eight hours. “Did you see Conde himself?” they asked Turenne, after it was over. “I saw not one, but a dozen Conde,” was the answer; “he was in every place at once.”