'And Hepburn—'
'Alas! he fell with it. A shot killed him yesterday; but his death filled the troops with fury, so we carried the place by assault this morning. The King of France has lost a faithful soldier, and old Scotland a gallant son. Rest him, heaven!' said Gordon, looking upward, with tears in his eyes; 'for there, in his bloody harness at Zaberne, lies cold and still a heart that never knew fear!'
'But the fear of God?' added Livingstone.
'Right, chevalier; Hepburn was pious as he was brave. He was the first soldier in Christendom, and we may never see his like again.'
Hepburn's fall shocked and grieved me, the more that he had died before I could announce to him that Louis XIII. had raised him to that rank so coveted by every chevalier in his army—marechal of France; and conversing of his worth and bravery, rather than of my more recent adventures, which lay, perhaps, nearer my heart, we rode sadly and thoughtfully towards Zaberne.
I found the town breached and battered by cannon-shot; the houses riddled, the streets in ruin; encumbered by fallen masonry and unburied bodies. The soldiers were sullen and full of fury, especially the Scottish regiments, for the fall of their beloved commander, who was solemnly interred in the cathedral of Toul, where a magnificent monument was erected to his memory.*
* Demolished by the revolutionists in 1793, his tomb was restored by order of the Emperor Napoleon III. in 1851, as a letter from the curé of the cathedral informed the author.—See Note at end.
We buried the other dead in one huge grave—friend and foe—and threw in their weapons with them. Still enough they lay in that ghastly trench, as we heaped the earth over them; though their uniforms were on and their weapons at hand, the strife of their gallant hearts was over; but if ever men went to heaven, they will be the brave fellows who died with Hepburn at Zaberne.