Well, he had fought his best, as his part was; and he still lived, where most of the best were dead. There was Medrano for one. He had died in the breach where the worst fighting had been. For the ladders were too short for the unbroken parts of the wall, as De Broglio had foretold. But at the place where Medrano had held command the wall was battered to half its height, and the Turks had swarmed up, though they had been slain till their dead bodies had become a mound that made the ascent easy and short. Medrano, better guarded than most by his armour of Milan steel, had held his place while others fell at his side or were replaced by those less weary than they. He had taken so many wounds that none could say by whose hand he had died at last. It was in that breach that De Broglio also fel
