There were gibbets at the gate as thick as scarecrows.

In time of war, the assault swarmed against it with ladders, the arrows fell like leaves, the defenders sallied hotly over the drawbridge, each side uttered its cry as they plied their weapons.

Do you know that the walls extended as far as the Commanderie?
Tradition so reports.

Alas, what a long way off is all this confusion--nothing left of it but my quiet words spoken in your ear--and the town itself shrunk to the hamlet underneath us! By-and-by came the English wars--you shall hear more of the English, a stupid people, who sometimes blundered into good--and Gretz was taken, sacked, and burned.

It is the history of many towns; but Gretz never rose again; it was never rebuilt; its ruins were a quarry to serve the growth of rivals; and the stones of Gretz are now erect along the streets of Nemours.