Bayard, returning with his comrades from pursuing the fugitives, met on his road the Spanish force that Gaston had so rashly attacked, and that continued to retire in good order.

Bayard was all but charging them, when a Spanish captain came out of the ranks and said to him, in his own language, "What would you do, sir?
You are not powerful enough to beat us; you have won the battle; let the honor thereof suffice you, and let us go with our lives, for by God's will are we escaped." Bayard felt that the Spaniard spoke truly; he had but a handful of men with him, and his own horse could not carry him any longer: the Spaniards opened their ranks, and he passed through the middle of them and let them go.

"'Las!" says his Loyal Serviteur, "he knew not that the good Duke of Nemours was dead, or that those yonder were they who had slain him; he had died ten thousand deaths but he would have avenged him, if he had known it." When the fatal news was known, the consternation and grief were profound.
At the age of twenty-three Gaston de Foix had in less than six months won the confidence and affection of the army, of the king, and of France.

It was one of those sudden and undisputed reputations which seem to mark out men for the highest destinies.

"I would fain," said Louis XIL, when he heard of his death, "have no longer an inch of land in Italy, and be able at that price to bring back to life my nephew Gaston and all the gallants who perished with him.