As the French advanced, the guns on the Spanish left poured a lively fire
into their ranks, when, a spark accidentally communicating with the
magazine of powder, the whole blew up with a tremendous explosion. The
Spaniards were filled with consternation; but Gonsalvo, converting the
misfortune into a lucky omen, called out, "Courage, soldiers, these are
the beacon lights of victory! We have no need of our guns at close
quarters."

In the mean time, the French van under Nemours, advancing rapidly under
the dark clouds of smoke, which rolled heavily over the field, were
unexpectedly brought up by the deep trench, of whose existence they were
unapprised. Some of the horse were precipitated into it, and all received
a sudden check, until Nemours, finding it impossible to force the works in
this quarter, rode along their front in search of some practicable
passage. In doing this, he necessarily exposed his flank to the fatal aim
of the Spanish arquebusiers. A shot from one of them took effect on the
unfortunate young nobleman, and he fell mortally wounded from his saddle.

At this juncture, the Swiss and Gascon infantry, briskly moving up to
second the attack of the now disordered horse, arrived before the
intrenchments. Undismayed by this formidable barrier, their commander,
Chandieu, made the most desperate attempts to force a passage; but the
loose earth freshly turned up afforded no hold to the feet, and his men
were compelled to recoil from the dense array of German pikes, which
bristled over the summit of the breastwork. Chandieu, their leader, made
every effort to rally and bring them back to the charge; but, in the act
of doing this, was hit by a ball, which stretched him lifeless in the
ditch; his burnished arms, and the snow-white plumes above his helmet,
making him a conspicuous mark for the enemy.