Once a man gaily dressed, and splendidly mounted, dashed past us, waving his naked sword and crying in a frenzied way "Bleed them! Bleed them! Bleed in May, as good to-day!" and never ceased crying out the same words until he passed beyond our hearing.

Once we came upon the bodies of a father and two sons, which lay piled together in the kennel; partly stripped already.
The youngest boy could not have been more than thirteen, I mention this group, not as surpassing others in pathos, but because it is well known now that this boy, Jacques Nompar de Caumont, was not dead, but lives to-day, my friend the Marshal de la Force.
This reminds me too of the single act of kindness we were able to perform.

We found ourselves suddenly, on turning a corner, amid a gang of seven or eight soldiers, who had stopped and surrounded a handsome boy, apparently about fourteen.

He wore a scholar's gown, and had some books under his arm, to which he clung firmly--though only perhaps by instinct--notwithstanding the furious air of the men who were threatening him with death.

They were loudly demanding his name, as we paused opposite them.