"Engage with me!" he cried; "let me at least die by your hand."
"Ah!" said Pardaillan, "the one of us two who slays the other will be the more generous."
They crossed swords with much vigor. The blows they dealt resounded upon their coats-of-mail like hammer-strokes upon the anvil. La Renaudie circled about Pardaillan, who, sitting firmly on his saddle, parried and thrust without token of weariness. Two rivals thirsting for vengeance could not have seemed more implacable.
At last La Renaudie buried his sword in the breast of Pardaillan, who fell headlong from his horse.
But the cry which followed the fatal blow came from the lips of La Renaudie.
Happily for the victor, he had not even the time to look upon his disastrous victory, for Montigny, Pardaillan's page, levelled his arquebuse at him and fired, and he fell from his horse mortally wounded.
Nevertheless, before he expired La Renaudie yet retained strength sufficient to strike dead upon the spot, with a backward stroke of his sword, the page who had shot him.
Around these three bodies the battle waged more furiously than ever.
But the Huguenots were clearly worsted; and in a short time, being deprived of their leader, they were utterly routed.
The greater number of them were killed; but a few were taken prisoners, and some escaped.