"Well, why not? do you think I have not blamed myself, not for having given battle, but for having lost it."
"Monseigneur, this goodness frightens me; and will your highness permit me to say that this gayety is not natural. I trust your highness is not suffering."
A terrible cloud passed over the prince's face, making it as black as night.
"No," said he, "I was never better, thank God, than now, and I am glad to be among you all."
The officers bowed.
"How many men have you, Du Bouchage?" asked he.
"One hundred, monseigneur."
"Ah! a hundred out of ten thousand; that is like the defeat at Cannes. Gentlemen, they will send a bushel of your rings to Antwerp, but I doubt if the Flemish beauties could wear them, unless they had their fingers pared by their husbands' knives, which, I must say, cut well."
"Monseigneur," replied Henri, "if our battle was like the battle of Cannes, at least we are more lucky than the Romans, for we have preserved our Paulus-Emilius!"
"On my life, gentlemen, the Paulus-Emilius of Antwerp was Joyeuse; and doubtless, to preserve the resemblance with his heroic model to the end, your brother is dead, is he not, Du Bouchage?"