The Saxons passed the night on the battle-field, amid hymns of praise and cries of joy.
In the morning, Rodolph, from his inferiority being unable to pursue his victory, reentered Merseburg in triumph; and Henry, unwilling to hazard another engagement, fell back upon Ratisbon to levy new troops.
Thus ended the battle of Melrichstadt: all night the waters of the Strewe, as they glided carelessly along, were red with the noblest blood in Germany.
Some hours after nightfall, when all the requisite precautions had been taken, Gilbert de Hers, unharmed, but worn out by the fatigues of the day, retired to his father's tent.

He was alone, for the Lord of Hers was in council with the king.

It was a sultry night in August, and, stripping off his armor, he threw himself upon a couch, and gazed languidly but steadily at the flickering watch fires.

He had been knighted on the field by the king, and had nobly worn his spurs, but his thoughts were evidently not running on his own prowess or the praises of his monarch.

A listless calm had succeeded his late excitement.