“M. de Bragelonne colored, and replied in a lower voice, ‘Monseigneur, pardon me, I beseech you; I have always had the desire to go to meet good opportunities; and it is so delightful to distinguish ourselves before our general, particularly when that general is M. le Duc de Beaufort.’
“Monseigneur was a little softened by this; and turning to the officers who surrounded him, gave his different orders. The grenadiers of the two regiments got near enough to the ditches and the intrenchments to launch their grenades, which had but little effect. In the mean while, M. d’Estrees, who commanded the fleet, having seen the attempt of the sergeant to approach the vessels, understood that he must act without orders, and opened his fire. Then the Arabs, finding themselves seriously injured by the balls from the fleet, and beholding the destruction and the ruins of their bad walls, uttered the most fearful cries. Their horsemen descended the mountain at the gallop, bent over their saddles and rushed full tilt upon the columns of infantry, which crossing their pikes stopped this mad assault. Repulsed by the firm attitude of the battalion, the Arabs threw themselves with great fury upon the commander’s position, which at that moment was not protected.
“The danger was great; Monseigneur drew his sword; his secretaries and people imitated him; the officers of the suite engaged in combat with the furious Arabs. It was then that M. de Bragelonne was able to gratify the inclination he had manifested from the beginning of the action. He fought near the Prince with the valor of a Roman, and killed three Arabs with his small sword. But it was evident that his bravery did not arise from the sentiment of pride natural to all who fight. It was impetuous, affected, forced even; he sought to intoxicate himself with noise and carnage. He excited himself to such a degree that Monseigneur called out to him to stop. He must have heard the voice of Monseigneur, because we who were close to him heard it. He did not, however, stop, but continued his course towards the intrenchments. As M. de Bragelonne was a well-disciplined officer, this disobedience to the orders of Monseigneur very much surprised everybody, and M. de Beaufort redoubled his earnestness, crying, ‘Stop, Bragelonne! Where are you going? Stop,’ repeated Monseigneur, ‘I command you!’
“We all, imitating the gesture of Monsieur the Duke,- we all raised our hands. We expected that the cavalier would turn bridle; but M. de Bragelonne continued to ride towards the palisades.
“‘Stop, Bragelonne!’ repeated the Prince, in a very loud voice; ‘stop! in the name of your father!’
“At these words M. de Bragelonne turned round, his countenance expressed a lively grief; but he did not stop. We then concluded that his horse must have run away with him. When Monsieur the Duke had imagined that the viscount was not master of his horse, and had seen him precede the first grenadiers, his Highness cried, ‘Musketeers, kill his horse! A hundred pistoles for him who shall kill his horse!’ But who could expect to hit the beast without at least wounding his rider? No one durst venture. At length one presented himself; he was a sharpshooter of the regiment of Picardy, named Luzerne, who took aim at the animal, fired, and hit him in the quarters, for we saw the blood redden the hair of the horse. Instead of falling, the cursed genet carried him on more furiously than ever. Every Picard who saw this unfortunate young man rushing on to meet death, shouted in the loudest manner, ‘Throw yourself off, Monsieur the Viscount! off! off! throw yourself off!’ M. de Bragelonne was an officer much beloved in the army! Already had the viscount arrived within pistol-shot of the ramparts; a discharge was poured upon him and enveloped him in its fire and smoke. We lost sight of him; the smoke dispersed; he was on foot, standing; his horse was killed.
“The viscount was summoned to surrender by the Arabs, but he made them a negative sign with his head, and continued to march towards the palisades. This was a mortal imprudence. Nevertheless, the whole army was pleased that he would not retreat, since ill chance had led him so near. He marched a few paces farther, and the two regiments clapped their hands. It was at this moment the second discharge shook the walls, and the Vicomte de Bragelonne again disappeared in the smoke; but this time the smoke was dispersed in vain,- we no longer saw him standing. He was down, with his head lower than his legs, among the bushes; and the Arabs began to think of leaving their intrenchments to come and cut off his head or take his body, as is their custom with infidels. But Monseigneur le Duc de Beaufort had followed all this with his eyes, and the sad spectacle drew from him many and painful sighs. He then cried aloud, seeing the Arabs running like white phantoms among the mastic-trees, ‘Grenadiers! pikemen! will you let them take that noble body?’