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how to work with powerpoint Young De Rohan astonished the pages by saying that seventeen hundred of the Breton infantry were going to wear the same uniform as the men of the Wight, in order to make the French think there were more English than there were. This was a great compliment, and rejoiced Dicky's heart, for he knew how much more important the Captain of the Wight would be if he commanded two thousand instead of four hundred men.

In another hour the whole army was equipped and marching to its position to the right of a vast forest, the For¨ºt de la Seve, and there was already promise of the great heat the coming noon would bring. The bells of Orange were sounding for morning service, and the faint tinkle of the other village bells could be heard over the forest and hills. A deep blue sky spread overhead, and a mellow haze floated over the horizon. There was scarcely a breath of air, and the banner of the Captain of the Wight hung in white and crimson folds down its gilded shaft.

The men of the Wight were now drawn up--the men-at-arms on the right, the infantry in the centre, and the mounted archers on the left. All were completely armed, and they had now become a thoroughly well-disciplined, splendid body of men, typical of the British army--"The best in the world, if only there were more of them." The Captain of the Wight, mounted on his black charger, armed like himself in full plate-armour, rode in front of the line, and glanced down it with martial pride. Only a few words he said, but they were fiery, knightly, encouraging words, such as a brave leader and chivalrous knight knew how to say. He told them of the compliment the Duke of Orleans was paying them in reinforcing them with seventeen hundred Breton foot all clad to look like Englishmen. He reminded them of Crecy, Poictiers, and Agincourt. He bid them think that the eyes of England, of France, and of their own dear island home were upon them; and he bid them fight as became the ancient valour of their name and race. Their quarrel was a just one, and their foe the natural enemy of their hearths and homes.

"Men of Yaverland and Brading, remember Sir Theobold Russel, and how he died for you. Men of Newport, remember Deadman's Lane and Neddie's Hill. Men of Yarmouth and Newtown, remember your burning homes and ruined boroughs. Men of the Wight, you are here to show your manhood, your skill, and your hardihood; that Frenchmen may see and feel how vain are their vapourings, how keen are our swords. And here before you all, in the glorious light of that splendid sun, I draw my blade, vowing never more to sheath it till the victory is won, or my hand can hold it no more."

As the Captain of the Wight spoke, his sword-blade flashed in the sun, while he held it aloft over his crested helm.

A ringing cheer answered these stirring words, and Dicky Cheke murmured to Ralph,--

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