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QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 La guerre est ma patrie, 
 Mon harnois ma maison, 
 Et en toute saison 
 
 Combattre c'est ma vie. 
 
OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY ) 
 
 OF 
 
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 &n&refo Hans lEtritton 
 
 Quentin Durward 
 
 By Sir Walter Scott, Bart. 
 
 With Introductory Essay and Notes 
 by Andrew Lang & & Illustrated 
 
 Dana^Estes & Company 
 
 jt ^ ^ # * # Publishers 
 Boston ******** 
 
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 'n&& 
 
 GENERAL 
 
 Copyright, i8g4 
 
 By Estes and Lai 
 
 
 
PR522.1 
 
 Sntireto Hang 5Efciticm* 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 Volume I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Breakfast Frontispiece 
 
 The Boar-Hunt 162 
 
 The Princess Fainting . . . . 199 
 
 Volume II. 
 
 Meeting of Louis and Charles . . .139 
 isabelle at the grating 255 
 
 175529 
 
EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION 
 
 TO 
 
 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 "The public would expect a finely wrought story, 
 which there is no chance of their being gratified in," 
 Scott said, when, after the publication of "Peveril," 
 there was some talk of "crying halt." "A finely 
 wrought story" was precisely what he gave them in 
 " Quentin Durward." In a sense it is perhaps the 
 best of the Waverley novels. It is far beyond them 
 ull in construction, the events flowing from each other 
 rapidly and necessarily, without recapitulations or di- 
 gressions, or longueurs. The liberty taken with history 
 is slight, and is confessed; the dramatic circumstances 
 of Louis's visit to Charles the Bold, the inopportune out- 
 break of the revolt which Louis had fomented in Liege; 
 the imprisonment of the king in the donjon where Charles 
 the Simple had been murdered these events supply 
 Sir Walter with his motive, and he most skilfully com- 
 bines all with the adventures of his Scotch soldier of 
 fortune. Here no Deus ex machind is needed : here the 
 love-affair is an inevitable consequence of romantic 
 proximity, not a mere sop to the public taste for a love- 
 story. The somewhat heavy and mechanical pleasantries 
 of other tales are conspicuously absent: in " Quentin 
 Durward M all hastens to the predetermined conclusion, 
 through scenes gorgeous, stimulating, and in accord 
 with historical truth of manners and events) The land- 
 scape, the environment, are novel : the patriotic genius 
 
x EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 finds room and impulse among the Scottish Guard, de* 
 scendants of Jeanne d' Arc's heroic companions-in-arms. 
 All the characters are full of blood and life, all play 
 their prrts to admiration; and " Quentin Durward " 
 was not only applauded in France for its French colour- 
 ing, but because, in this romance, the French genius 
 recognized Scott's most finished and most perfect work 
 of art. Yet, in England, as Lockhart tells us, "Quen- 
 tin Durward " was, commercially, unsuccessful, till the 
 sails of the barque were filled by the breeze from France. 
 " Quentin Durward" was begun, as we saw, before 
 "Peveril " was finished, in the autumn of 1822. 1 On 
 Dec. 18, 1822, Scott wrote to Constable: " Books of 
 history help me little, except Commines. ,, He had 
 the "Memoires de Philippe de Commines sur les faicts 
 et gestes de Loys XI. et Charles VIII." (Paris, 8vo, 
 1566), and he also possessed Olivier de la Marche 
 and Jean de Troyes in Petitot's complete Collection 
 of Memoirs. 2 Plessis-les-Tours he thought "a vile 
 place," which baffled both himself and Constable. 
 "I have not found it in any map, provincial or gen- 
 eral, which I have consulted. . . . Instead of making 
 description hold the place of sense, I must try to make 
 such sense as I can find hold the place of description." 
 He borrowed from the Advocates' Library the large 
 quarto edition of Commines. At this time (March 10, 
 1823) Scott gave Constable thirteen of the manuscripts 
 of his novels, not all complete. The present suggested 
 to Constable the magnum opus that is, the annotated 
 edition of the novels, which Scott had nearly completed 
 before his death. "It is -the author only who could do 
 anything at all acceptable in the way of genuine illustra- 
 tions." Constable had already studied ' ' the first volume 
 
 1 See Editor's Introduction to " Peveril." 
 
 2 There is a fcandy edition of Commines published by the 
 Elzevirs (Ley den, 1648). 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. xi 
 
 of 'Quentin Durward ' with great delfglit. ?? On March 
 26 Scott wrote telling him his work had heen inter- 
 rupted by the news of the death of his brother Tom, 
 " but nothing relieves the heartache like a little task- 
 work." He now contemplated a Dialogue on 'Popular 
 Superstitions, called "The Bogles," by Constable. 
 This was to fill a break in the series of novels. But 
 Constable's terms were inadequate, and Scott deserted 
 "The Bogles" for "St. Ronan's Well." We might 
 have preferred the other book, for which the " Letters 
 on Demonology and Witchcraft," written with failing 
 powers, is no substitute. 
 
 Constable now suggested an attempt to secure an in- 
 terest in the dramatised version of " Quentin " which 
 was sure to appear, as the theatres then lived on Sir 
 Walter. Scott thought there were "great objections 
 to interfering." He was by no means averse to letting 
 as many people as possible share in the money which 
 his genius produced. He employed Constable to send 
 copies of his works to a M. Petizon, who made him a 
 present of some excellent champagne. On June 18, 
 1823, he wrote regretting that " Quentin Durward, " 
 which had now appeared, was " somewhat frost-bitten, 
 which I did not expect. It might be necessary to 
 make longer pauses between the novels : we must keep 
 the mill going with something else." That the mill 
 might go less rapidly, that economy in living would 
 have been a good substitute for rapidity in production, 
 did not occur to Scott. We can hardly say that his 
 work would have been improved by deliberation. 
 "Quentin Durward" is a masterpiece, "Peveril" and 
 "St. Ronan's Well" are by no means masterpieces, 
 but "Quentin" was written at the same pace as the 
 novel which preceded it, and the novel which followed 
 it. By May 13, 1823, he was announcing a fresh 
 book, "in great glee," to Cadell. "Is it * The 
 
xll EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 Bogles'?" James Ballantyne had asked. "No, no, 
 man, it is not ' The Bogles'; I got no encouragement; 
 the offer [500] was inadequate. Hoot, man, it's 
 no The Bogles.' " This was reported by Cadell on 
 May 13: on May 17 " Quentin Durward" was pub- 
 lished. Now there were still 1100 copies of " Peveril " 
 in the hands of Constable's London correspondents. If 
 "Quentin" was " frost-bitten," the frost came from 
 the Peak. Hurst and Co. admitted that "Quentin" 
 was "more admired than any one since 'Ivanhoe,'" 
 but "we may gorge the public." These complaints, 
 Sir Walter wrote, "neither surprise Dor dismay me. 
 
 The mouse who only trusts to one poor hole 
 Can never be a mouse of any soul." 
 
 "The Bogles," we may believe, would not have been 
 a very sumptuous "hole." Scott showed later, by the 
 vast success of his "Tales of a Grandfather," what 
 holes were open to him. But he was hurrying on, at 
 this moment, with "St. Ronan's Well," while letters 
 from Constable, in August, preluded to the general 
 catastrophe of Ballantyne's affairs and of his own. 
 "The state of bills current" between the two houses 
 was perplexed : there was a floating debt of nearly 
 20,000. Scott wished to know whether Constable's 
 anxiety was caused by ' ' the deficiency of the sale of 
 'Quentin Durward.' " Constable replied that merely 
 the extent and expense of the transactions alarmed 
 him, and Scott announced a plan of retrenchment and 
 economy " which has reduced 6000 since April last " 
 ("Archibald Constable," iii. 284, Aug. 23, 1823). 
 Thus it appears that Scott had received warning about 
 the complexity of his own affairs, two years before the 
 time of commercial panic in which the Ballantynes and 
 Constables went down (November 1825). It is curious 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. xiii 
 
 that so admirable a novel as "Quentin Durward " should 
 have hinted the beginning of the end. 
 
 "Quentin Durward " was suggested partly, like the 
 Jews in "Ivanhoe," by Mr. Skene. He had kept a 
 journal of a tour in France, with illustrations : hence 
 came Scott's original Introduction. Lockhart often 
 found him busy over maps and gazetteers in the Advo- 
 cates' Library: yet his labours did not prevent him 
 from writing his essay on Komance for the "Encyclo- 
 paedia Britannica," and he supplied the Bannatyne 
 Club, his own creation, with an excellent song> He 
 became enthusiastic about gas lighting, was chairman 
 of a company, and filled Abbotsford with queer inven- 
 tions, diabolical smells, and bells which would not 
 ring. To this invention of gas, and the burning light 
 under which he wrote, Lockhart attributed much of 
 Scott's bad health. In fact, his busy life had never 
 been more fully and variously occupied than when 
 " France, long wearied of her pompous tragedians and 
 feeble romancers, who had alone striven to bring out 
 the ancient history and manners of their country in 
 popular forms, was seized with a fever of delight when 
 Louis XI. and Charles the Bold started into life again 
 at the beck of the Northern Magician " (Lockhart, 
 viii. 163). We may say that Scott was the father of 
 the Romanticistes of 1830, and that the greatest of his 
 works was Alexandre Dumas, the noblest and most 
 generous of his intellectual descendants. In these cir- 
 cumstances of Scott's life "Quentin Durward" saw the 
 light. 
 
 He who writes hardly thinks that justice has been 
 done to this masterpiece by popular taste, and by criti- 
 cism. As a boy's book it is so superabundantly ex- 
 cellent that a common prejudice hinders people from 
 placing it among the very best of men's books. Com- 
 pared with "Ivanhoe," even, it may be reckoned finei 
 
xiv EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 and better, as much more probable, less complicated 
 quite unvexed by such an event as the resuscitation 
 of Athelstane. There is here no Rebecca, indeed, and 
 some may prefer Friar Tuck to Le Balafre, while the 
 tournament and the siege of Torquilstone could only 
 be written once for all. On the other hand, here his- 
 tory lives, and the dead men of the past breathe again, 
 more convincingly than in the delightful pageant where 
 the Lion Heart and the Templar play their parts. 
 Louis XI. is the Louis of fact and of Commines. That 
 unlikely adventure of his, apparently so out of keeping, 
 the visit to Charles the Bold, resembles the visit of 
 Odysseus to the Cyclops. No genius could have dared 
 to invent it of either hero; tradition furnished Homer, 
 chronicles furnished Scott, with the great impossibility, 
 which was possible after all, with the cunning an 
 courage which redeemed the unlikely and unlooked-for 
 " follies of the wise." The period, and the politics 
 had an animating attraction for Scott. In society he, 
 believed in gradation, like Dr. Johnson, and he believed 
 in duty. Both of these he found in the ideal of the 
 Feudal System. Here was a society which had an idea^ 
 an intellectual basis, such as no society has enjoyed 
 since feudalism fell. In "The Tales of a Grandfather" 
 Scott made all this clear as day to any intelligent child. 
 But the passions and greed of men are ever at war with 
 the idea, and Louis XI., seeing the idea overthrown, 
 craftily wrought at building up a new system of cen- 
 tralisation and despotism. The second introduction, 
 written in Scott's latest days, in illness and overthrow, 
 shows how he resented and detested the selfishness and 
 cruelty of Louis, the contempt he threw on what had 
 been real, and was now fading and failing, the ideal of 
 chivalry. But, drawing the portrait of Louis, the 
 frank and humane genius of Scott paints him at his 
 best, without hiding the blemishes and the shadows. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. xv 
 
 He follows Commines, with an artistic rather than 3 
 political sympathy. He is aided hy these extraordi- 
 nary survivals of superstition in Louis which criticism 
 would scout as romantically or grotesquely absurd. if 
 they were not vouched for beyond question. He is 
 more successful with the subtle character of the king 
 than with the bluff brutality of Charles the Bold, him- 
 self a Boar of the Ardennes, with a grain of conscience 
 and kingliness. Louis is probably the chef-d'oeuvre 
 even among the royal portraits of the Prince of Ro- 
 mancers, and the Romancer of Princes. Scott's humour, 
 his affectionate and pitying vision of humanity, saves, 
 him here. It were easy to make Louis a monster, and 
 James VI. a mere caitiff : thus many hands not un- 
 skilled would have drawn them ; but this is not the 
 method of Shakspeare and of Scott. Among the other 
 characters of the tale, the hero, for once, holds a distinct 
 position. He is not the mere passive person round whom 
 events move, but the chief agent in his own fortunes; he 
 has the winningness of youth, spirit ami good looks, 
 like Roland Graeme, with none of the insolence of the 
 page. Quentin Durward is a hero after Scott's own 
 heart, and we are scarcely less attached to his sturdy 
 stupid uncle, the picturesque Le Balafre, with the scar, 
 the great gold chain, the accommodating conscience, 
 and the " canty conceit o' himsel'," for which the other 
 Scot is said to have superfluously prayed. Ludovic is 
 not made to come too frequently on the stage, nobody 
 can call him one of Scott's bores, and the contrasted 
 pair of hangmen are not too much insisted upon. The 
 Flemish Nicol Jarvie, with his pretty daughter, make 
 a pleasant group; the Bohemian Hayraddin may be some- 
 what theatrical, but much was left here to the dramatic 
 fancy. The good Lord Crawford might be an ancestor 
 of Baron Bradwardine's, naturally without any of his 
 pedantry, in an age when, as Commines tells us about 
 
xvi EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 the nobles, "denulles lettres ils n'ont congnoissance." 
 The astrologer of this tale is quite an original kind of 
 astrologer, not conventional like his fellow-magician in 
 "Kenilworth." The heroine can scarcely be called a 
 character, she is so much in the background through- 
 out: we see a fair arm at the window, hear a sweet 
 voice behind the lattice singing a charming song, and 
 that is almost all. The Lady Hameline is somewhat un- 
 gallantly treated, and a lady of thirty -five is not so very 
 antiquated as these rude soldiers constantly declare. 
 Scott had, at one time, an intention to continue the tale 
 of Quentin's adventures, whose life must have been peril- 
 ous enough as a Count with a small territory among 
 the jars of France and Burgundy. It might have been 
 amusing to hear the widowed countess lamenting "her 
 William " ; but sequels are perilous things, and Sir 
 Walter wisely left Quentin in the haven where he 
 would be. 
 
 A few words on the Scottish Archers, the corps to 
 which Quentin Durward belonged, may not be super- 
 fluous. Their history has been written by the Rev. 
 Father Forbes Leith (S.J.) 1 Towards the end of 
 1418 Charles the Dauphin, sorely pressed by Henry V. 
 of England, sent to ask for Scottish assistance. The 
 Duke of Albany, then Regent, despatched his second 
 son, Sir John Stewart, Earl of Buchan, with Archibald 
 Douglas, Earl of Wigtown, and Sir John Stewart of 
 Darneley, at the head of a Scottish contingent. They 
 were carried over by Spanish vessels, and part of the 
 force landed in May 1419, others at La Rochelle in 
 September. None of the Scottish captains were present 
 when the Dauphin met Jean sans Peur, Duke of Bur- 
 gundy, at Montereau-faut-Yonne, when the Duke was 
 killed (Aug. 12, 1419). This Duke was the grand- 
 
 1 "The Scots Men at Arms and Life Guards in France, 1418- 
 1830" (Paterson: Edinburgh, 1882). 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. xvn 
 
 father of Charles the Bold. More Scottish reinforce- 
 ments landed in 1421, but they had ill luck, were 
 defeated at Le Mans, and lost their military chest 
 with their pay. On March 22 they met the English 
 at the bridge at Baug6, over which the Duke of Clar- 
 ence tried to force his passage. He was attacked by 
 John Kirkmichael, who broke a spear on his breast, 
 was wounded in the face by Sir William Swinton, and 
 killed by the mace of the Earl of Buchan. Sir John 
 Sibbald captured the Earl of Huntingdon, and the 
 English sustained a severe defeat. This is the Scot- 
 tish version : the French ascribed Clarence's death to 
 Charles le Bouteiler or to Gilbert de la Fayette. "The 
 last Swinton de Swinton presented to Sir Walter Scott" 
 (who was connected with the family) "the point of the 
 weapon with which his ancestor accomplished this deed 
 of prowess. The lance of Swinton is still to be seen in 
 the collection' of antiquities at Abbotsford," says Father 
 Forbes Leith. The feat, however, is rather apocryphal; 
 the Highlanders attributed the slaying of Clarence to 
 Alexander McCausland. In spite of this victory, the 
 Scots were no more popular in France than the French 
 troops commonly were in Scotland. The countrymen 
 of Quentin Durward were called wine-bags and tug- 
 muttons ("sacs a vin et mangeurs de mouton "). In 
 
 1423 Lord Willoughby defeated the Scottish Archers 
 at Cravant, on the Yonne. They are said to have lost 
 3000 men, among them a Haliburton (also of a family 
 from which Scott descended), a Cameron, a Cunning- 
 ham, a Hume, a Douglas, aud a Crawford. In August 
 
 1424 Charles VII. was defeated at Verneuil, and the 
 flower of the Scottish legion fell. They neither took 
 nor gave quarter, and the French were pleased at their 
 defeat. The Earl of Buchan and the Earl of Douglas 
 were among the slain. In 1425, however, we find the 
 first mention of a Scottish Life Guard in France, men- 
 
xviii EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 at-arms and archers (July 8). They were more defi 
 nitely organised in 1445. The Scots Guard charged at 
 Malplaquet, and " the King " (James VIII., the Cheva- 
 lier Saint George) was wounded as he led them on. But 
 there were, by that time, few Scots in the so-called Scots 
 Guards, which was finally disbanded at the Revolution 
 of 1830. Their most illustrious deeds were done as 
 comrades of Joan of Arc : she was aided by John Kirk- 
 michael, who broke a spear with Clarence, and was now 
 Bishop of Orleans. An Ogilvy and a Wishart were 
 with La Pucelle when she brought a convoy of provi- 
 sions into Orleans, and a Kennedy was one of the 
 council of war in the besieged city. A Polwarth 
 painted her standard, and not improbably her portrait. 
 In July 1445 two Scots companies were regularl}" 
 formed, the first under John Stuart, Lord of D'Aubigny. 
 When Louis XL was Dauphin, he attempted to bribe 
 the Scots Guard and " remove " the King. He was 
 banished. In 1449 the Scots helped to take Rouen 
 for France. They then wore "jackets without sleeves, 
 red, white, and green, covered with gold embroidery, 
 with plumes in their helms of the same colours, and 
 their swords and leg-harness richly mounted in silver." 
 In 1450 two of the Guard, Robert Campbell and Robert 
 Cunningham, were accused of treason, and complicity 
 in a plot with the English. Cunningham was set free, 
 but Campbell was executed. In 1474 Louis XI. raised 
 a new company of a hundred Scots of gentle birth ; on 
 his death he entrusted his son Charles to his Scots 
 Guards. The last trace of the Scottish element in the 
 force was their word of answer to the roll-call, not "Me 
 voila," but, "in Gaelic, I am here!" This is quoted 
 by Father Forbes Leith, from a communication by 
 Marshal Macdonald. After helping to free France 
 from England, and doing more for France than the 
 Old Alliance ever did for Scotland, the Scottish conaec- 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. xix 
 
 tion was broken by the Reformation and the death of 
 Francis II. Only a shadow survived, in the attempts 
 of the exiled Stuarts, but no Scots in French service 
 left a memory more glorious than the disbanded officers 
 of Dundee. Marshal Macdonald himself was descended 
 from a Jacobite exile who went to France with Prince 
 Charles, after Culloden. 
 
 Andrew Lang. 
 
 November 1893. 
 

INTRODUCTION 
 
 TO 
 
 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 The scene of this romance is laid in the fifteenth cen- 
 tury, when the feudal system, which had been the 
 sinews and nerves of national defence, and the spirit of 
 chivalry, by which, as by a vivifying soul, that system 
 was animated, began to be innovated upon and aban- 
 doned by those grosser characters, who centred their 
 sum of happiness in procuring the personal objects on 
 which they had fixed their own exclusive attachment. 
 The same egotism had indeed displayed itself even in 
 more primitive ages; but it was now for the first time 
 openly avowed as a professed principle of action. The 
 spirit of chivalry had in it this point of excellence, 
 that however overstrained and fantastic many of its doc- 
 trines may appear to us, they were all founded on 
 generosity and self-denial, of which if the earth were 
 deprived, it would be difficult to conceive the existence 
 of virtue among the human race. 
 
 1 A mong those who were the first to ridicule and aban- 
 don the self-denying principles in which the young 
 knight was instructed, and to which he was so carefully 
 trained up, Louis the Xlth of France was the chief. 
 That Sovereign was of a character so purely selfish 
 so guiltless of entertaining any purpose unconnected 
 with his ambition, covetousness, and desire of selfish 
 enjoyment, that he almost seems an incarnation of the 
 devil himself, permitted to do his utmost to corrupt our 
 
xxii INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 ideas of honour in its very source. Nor is it to be 
 forgotten that Louis possessed to a great extent that 
 caustic wit which can turn into ridicule all that a man 
 does for any other person's advantage but his own, and 
 was, therefore, peculiarly qualified to play the part of a 
 cold-hearted and sneering fiend. | 
 
 In this point of view, Goethe's conception of the 
 character and reasoning of Mephistophiles, the tempt- 
 ing spirit in the singular play of Faust, appears to me 
 more happy than that which has been formed by Byron, 
 and even than the Satan of Milton. These last great 
 authors have given to the Evil Principle something 
 which elevates and dignifies his wickedness ; a sus- 
 tained and unconquerable resistance against Omnipo- 
 tence itself a lofty scorn of suffering compared with 
 submission, and all those points of attraction in the 
 Author of Evil, which have induced Burns and others to 
 consider him as the Hero of the Paradise Lost. The 
 great German poet. has, on the contrary, rendered his 
 seducing spirit a being who, otherwise totally unimpas- 
 sioned, seems only to have existed for the purpose of in- 
 creasing, by his persuasions and temptations, the mass of 
 moral evil, and who calls forth by his seductions those 
 slumbering passions which otherwise might have allowed 
 the human being who was the object of the Evil Spirit's 
 operations to pass the tenor of his life in tranquillity. 
 For this purpose Mephistophiles is, like Louis XL, en- 
 dowed with an acute and depreciating spirit of caustic 
 wit, which is employed incessantly in undervaluing and 
 vilifying all actions, the consequences of which do not 
 lead certainly and directly to self-gratification. 
 
 Even an author of works of mere amusement may be 
 permitted to be serious for a moment, in order to repro- 
 bate all policy, whether of a public or private character, 
 which rests its basis upon the principles of Machiavel, 
 or the practice of Louis XL 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. xxiii 
 
 The cruelties, the perjuries, the suspicions of this 
 prince, were rendered more detestable, rather than 
 amended, by the gross and debasing superstition which 
 he constantly practised. The devotion to the heavenly 
 saints, of which he made such a parade, was upon the 
 miserable principle of some petty deputy in office, who 
 endeavours to hide or atone for the malversations of 
 which he is conscious, by liberal gifts to those whose 
 duty it is to observe his conduct, and endeavours to sup- 
 port a system of fraud, by an attempt to corrupt the 
 incorruptible. In no other light can we regard his 
 creating the Virgin Mary a countess and colonel of his 
 guards, or the cunning that admitted to one or two 
 peculiar forms of oath (a) 1 the force of a binding obli- 
 gation, which he denied to all others, strictly preserving 
 the secret, which mode of swearing he really accounted 
 obligatory, as one of the most valuable of state mysteries. 
 
 To a total want of scruple, or, it would appear, of any 
 sense whatever of moral obligation, Louis XI. added 
 great natural firmness and sagacity of character, with a 
 system of policy so highly refined, considering the times 
 he lived in, that he sometimes overreached himself by 
 giving way to its dictates. 
 
 Probably there is no portrait so dark as to be with- 
 out its softer shades. He understood the interests of 
 France, and faithfully" pursued them so long as he 
 c ould identify them with his own. He carried the 
 country safe through the dangerous crisis of the war 
 termed "for the public good;" in thus disuniting and 
 dispersing this grand and dangerous alliance of the 
 great crown vassals of France against the Sovereign, a 
 King of a less cautious and temporizing character, and 
 of a more bold and less crafty disposition than Louis XL, 
 
 1 See Editor's Notes at the end of the Volume. Wherever a sim- 
 ilar reference occurs, the reader will understand that the same direc- 
 tion applies. 
 
xxiv INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 would, in all probability, have failed. Louis had also 
 some personal accomplishments not inconsis tent with 
 his public character. He was cheerful and witty in 
 society ; caressed his victim like the cat, which can 
 fawn when about to deal the most bitter wound; and 
 none was better able to sustain and extol the superiority 
 of the coarse and selfish reasons by which he endeav- 
 oured to supply those nobler motives for exertion, which 
 his predecessors had derived from the high spirit of 
 chivalry. 
 
 In fact that system was now becoming ancient, and 
 had, even while in its perfection, something so over- 
 strained and fantastic in its principles, as rendered it 
 peculiarly the object of ridicule, whenever, like other 
 old fashions, it began to fall out of repute, and the 
 weapons of raillery could be employed against it, with- 
 out exciting the disgust and horror with which they 
 would have been rejected at an early period, as a species 
 of blasphemy. In the fourteenth century a tribe of 
 scoffers had arisen, who pretended to supply what was 
 naturally useful in chivalry by other resources, and 
 threw ridicule upon the extravagant and exclusive prin- 
 ciples of honour and virtue, which were openly treated 
 as absurd, because, in fact, they were cast in a mould of 
 perfection too lofty for the practice of fallible beings. 
 If an ingenuous and high-spirited youth proposed to 
 frame himself on his father's principles of honour, he 
 was vulgarly derided as if he had brought to the field 
 the good old knight's Durindarte or two-handed sword, 
 ridiculous from its antique make and fashion, although 
 its blade might be the Ebro's temper, and its ornaments 
 of pure gold. 
 
 In like manner, the principles of chivalry wer e cast 
 aside, and their aid supplied by baser stimulants. In - 
 stead of the high spirit which pressed every man 
 forward in the defence of his country, Louis XI. s ubsti- 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. xxv 
 
 tuted the exertions of the ever ready mercenary soldier, 
 a nd persuaded his subjects, among whom the mercantile 
 class began to make a figure, that it was better to leave 
 to mercenaries the risks and labours of wa r, and to 
 supply the Crown with the means of paying them, than 
 to peril themselves in defence of their own substance. 
 The merchants were easily persuaded by this reasoning. 
 The hour did not arrive, in the days of Louis XI., 
 when the landed gentry and nobles could be in like 
 manner excluded from the ranks of war ; but the wily 
 monarch commenced that system, which, acted upon 
 by his successors, at length threw the whole military 
 defence of the state into the hands of the Crown. 
 
 He was equally forward in altering the principles 
 which were wont to re gulate the intercourse of the sexe s. 
 The doctrines of chivalry had established in theory at 
 least, a system in which Beauty was the governing and 
 remunerating divinity Valour her slave, who caught 
 hi s courage from her e} T e, and gave his life for her 
 slightest service. It is true, the system here, as in 
 other branches, was stretched to fantastic extravagance, 
 and cases of scandal not unfrequently arose. Still they 
 were generally such as those mentioned by Burke, 
 where frailty was deprived of half its guilt, by being 
 purified from all its grossness. In Louis Xlt h's prac- 
 tice, it was far otherwise. He was a low voluptuary, 
 seeking pleasure without sentiment, an d despising the 
 'sex from whom he desired to obtain it: his mistrftssfts 
 were of inferior rank, as little to be compared with the 
 elevated though faulty character of Agnes Sorel, as Louis 
 was to his heroic father, who freed France from the 
 threatened yoke of England. In like manner, by select- 
 i ng hia favourites and ministers from among the dre gs 
 oi t he people, Louis showed the slight regard which" he 
 paid to eminent station and high bi rth ; and although 
 this might be not only excusable but meritorious, where 
 
& 
 
 xxvi INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 the monarch's fiat promoted obscure talent, or called 
 forth modest worth, it was very different when the King 
 made his favourite associates of such men as Tristan 
 PHermite, the Chief of his Marshalsea, or police; and 
 it was evident that such a prince could no longer be, 
 as his descendant Francis elegantly designed himself, 
 " the first gentleman in his dominions." 
 
 Nor were Louis's sayings and actions in pr ivate or 
 public, of a kin d which could redeem such gross of- 
 fences against the character of a man of honour. H is 
 word, g enerally accounted the most sacred test of a 
 man's character, and the least impeachment of which 
 is a capital offence by the code of honour, was forfeited 
 without scruple on the slightest occasion, and often" 
 accompanied by the perpetration of the most enormou s 
 crimes. If he broke his own personal and plighted 
 faith, "he did not treat that of the public with more 
 ceremony. His sending an inferior person disguised 
 as a herald to Edward IV., was in those days, wfr-m 
 heralds were esteemed the sacred depositaries of puolic 
 and national faith, a daring imposition, of which few 
 save this unscrupulous prince would have been guilty. l 
 L In short, the manners, sentiments, and actions of 
 
 ouis XI. we re such as were inconsistent with the 
 principles of chivalry, and his caustic wit was suf - 
 ficiently disposed to ridicule a system adopted on what 
 he considered as the most absurd of all bases, since it 
 was founded on the principle of devoting toil, talents, 
 and time, to th e accomplishment of objects, from which 
 no personal advantage could, in the nature of things, be 
 obtame&TV "" 
 
 It is^more than probable that, in thus renouncing 
 
 almost openly the ties of religion, honour, and morality, 
 
 by which mankind at large feel themselves influenced, 
 
 Louis sought to obtain great advantages in his negofcia- 
 
 1 See Note IX., Disguised Herald, p. 356 of Vol. XXXII. 
 

 QUENTIN DURWARD. xxvn 
 
 ti ons with parties who might esteem themselves bound, 
 while he himself enjoyed liberty. He started from the 
 goal, he might suppose, like the racer who has got 
 rid of the weights with which his competitors are still 
 encumbered, and expects to succeed of course. But 
 Providence seems always to unite the existence of pe- 
 culiar danger, with some circumstance which may put 
 those exposed to the peril upon their guard. The 
 constant suspicion attached to any public person who 
 becomes badly eminent for breach of faith, is to him 
 what the rattle is to the poisonous serpent; and men 
 come at last to calculate, not so much on what their 
 antagonist says, as upon that which he is likely to do ; 
 a degree of mistrust which tends to counteract the 
 intrigues of such a faithless character, more than his 
 freedom from the scruples of conscientious men can 
 afford him advantage. The example of Louis XI. 
 raised disgust and su spicion rather than a desire of im- 
 itation among other nations in Europe, and the cir- 
 cumstance of his outwitting more than one of his 
 contemporaries, operated to put others on their guard. 
 i5ven the system of chivalry, though much less generally 
 extended than heretofore, survived this profligate mon- 
 arch's reign, who did so much to sully its lustre, and 
 long after the death of Louis XI. it inspired the Knight 
 without Fear and Reproach, and the gallant Francis I. 
 Indeed, alth ough the reign of Louis had been as suc - 
 cessf ul in a political point of view as he himself could 
 have desired, the spectacle of his deathbed might of 
 itself be a warning-piece against the seduction of his 
 example. Jealous of every one, but chiefly of his own 
 son, he Immured himself in his Castle of Plessis, in- 
 trusting his person exclusively to the doubtful faith 
 of his Scottish mercenaries. He never stirred from his 
 chamber; he admitted no one into it, and wearied 
 Heaven and every saint with prayers, not for the for- 
 
xxviii INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 giveness of his sins, but for the prolongation of his 
 life. With a poverty of spirit totally inconsistent 
 with his shrewd worldly sagacity, he importuned his 
 physicians, until they insulted as well as plundered 
 him. In his extreme desire of life, he sent to Italy for 
 supposed relics, and the yet more extraordinary im- 
 portation of an ignorant crack-brained peasant, (b) who, 
 from laziness probably, had shut himself up in a cave, 
 and renounced flesh, fish, eggs, or the produce of the 
 dairy. This man, who did not possess the slightest 
 tincture of letters, Louis reverenced as if he had been 
 the Pope himself, and to gain his good-will founded 
 two cloisters. 
 
 It was not the least singular circumstance of thi s 
 course of superstition, that bodily health and terrestrial 
 felicity seemed to be his only object s. Making any 
 mention of his sins when talking on the state of his 
 health, was strictly prohibited; and when at his com- 
 mand a priest recited a prayer to Saint Eutropius, in 
 which he recommended the King's welfare both in 
 body and soul, Louis caused the two last words to be 
 omitted, saying it was not prudent to importune the 
 blessed saint by too many requests at once. Perhaps 
 he thought by being silent on his crimes, he might 
 suffer them to pass out of the recollection of the celes- 
 tial patrons, whose aid he invoked for his body. 
 
 So great were the well-merited tortures of this tyrant's 
 deathbed, that Philip des Comines enters into a regular 
 comparison between them and the numerous cruelties 
 inflicted on others by his order; and, considering both, 
 comes to express an opinion, that the worldly pangs 
 and agony suffered by Louis were such as might com- 
 pensate the crimes he had committed, and that, after a 
 reasonable quarantine in purgatory, he might in mercy 
 be found duly qualified for the superior regions. 
 
 Fenelon also has left his testimony against this prince, 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. xxix 
 
 whose mode of living and governing he has described in 
 the following remarkable passage : 
 
 " Pygmalion, tourmente par une soif insatiable des richesses, 
 se rend de plus en plus miserable et odieux a ses sujets. C'est 
 un crime a Tyr que d'avoir de grands biens ; l'avarice le rend 
 defiant, soupconneux, cruel ; il persecute les riches, et il craint 
 les pauvres. 
 
 " C'est un crime encore plus grand a Tyr d'avoir de la vertu ; 
 car Pygmalion suppose que les bons ne peuvent souffrir ses in- 
 justices et ses infamies; la vertu le condamne, il s'aigrit et 
 s'irrite contre elle. Tout l'agite, l'inquiete, le ronge ; il a peur 
 de son ombre; il ne dort ni nuit ni jour; les Dieux, pour le 
 confondre, l'accablent de tresors dont il n'ose jouir. Ce qu'il 
 cherche pour etre heureux est precisement ce qui l'empeche 
 de l'etre. II regrette tout ce qu'U donne, et craint toujours de 
 perdre ; il se tourmente pour gagner. 
 
 " On ne le voit presque jamais ; il est seul, triste, abattu, au 
 fond de son palais ; ses amis memes n'osent l'aborder, de peur 
 de lui devenir suspects. Une garde terrible tient toujours des 
 <?pees nues et des piques levees autour de sa maison. Trente 
 chambres qui communiquent les unes aux autres, et dont cha- 
 cune a une porte de fer avec six gros verroux, sont le lieu 
 ou il se renferme ; on ne sait jamais dans laquelle de ces 
 chambres il couche ; et on assure qu'il ne couche jamais deux 
 nuits de suite dans la meme, de peur d'y tre egorge. II ne 
 connoit ni les doux plaisirs, ni l'arnitie encore plus douce. Si 
 on lui parle de chercher la joie, il sent qu'elle fuit loin de lui, et 
 qu'elle refuse d'entrer dans son cceur. Ses yeux creux sont 
 pleins d'un feu apre et farouche ; ils sont sans cesse errans de 
 tous cote's ; il prete l'oreille au moindre bruit, et se sent tout 
 emu ; il est pale, defait, et les noirs soucis sont peints sur son 
 visage toujours ride. II se tait, il soupire, il tire de son cceur 
 de profonds gemissemens, il ne peut cacher les remords qui de- 
 chirent ses entrailles. Les mets les plus exquis le degoutent. 
 Ses enfans, loin d'etre son espe"rance, sont le sujet de sa terreur : 
 il en a fait ses plus dangereux ennemis. II n'a eu toute sa vie 
 aucun moment d'assure* : il ne se conserve qu'a force de re"- 
 pandre le sang de tous ceux qu'il craint. Insense, qui ne 
 voit pas que sa cruaute, a laquelle il se confie, le fera perir 1 
 
xxx INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 Quelqu'un de ses domestiques, aussi defiant que lui, se hatera 
 a delivrer le monde de ce monstre." 
 
 The instructive, but appalling scene of this tyrant^ 
 sufferings, was at length closed by death, 30th August, 
 1485. 
 
 dhe selection of this remarkable person as the prin- 
 cipal character in the romance for it will be easily 
 comprehended, that the little love intrigue of Quentin 
 is only employed as the means of brin ging out the story 
 afforded considerable facilities to the author. The 
 whole of Europe was, during the fifteenth century, con- 
 vulsed with dissensions from such various causes, that 
 it would have required almost a dissertation to have 
 brought the English reader with a mind perfectly alive 
 and prepared to admit the possibility of the strange 
 scenes to which he was introduced. 
 
 In Louis Xlth's time, extraordinary commotions ex- 
 isted throughout all Europe. England's civil wars were 
 ended rather in appearance than reality, by the short- 
 lived ascendency of the House of York. Switzerland 
 was asserting that freedom which was afterwards so 
 bravely defended. In the Empire, and in France, the 
 great vassals of the crown were endeavouring to eman- 
 cipate themselves from its control, while Charles of 
 Burgundy by main force, and Louis more artfully by 
 indirect means, laboured to subject them to subservience 
 to their respective sovereignties. Louis, while with 
 one hand he circumvented and subdued his own rebel- 
 lious vassals, laboured secretly with the other to aid 
 and encourage the large trading towns of Flanders to 
 rebel against the Duke of Burgundy, to which their 
 wealth and irritability naturally disposed them. In 
 the more woodland districts of Flanders, the Duke of 
 Gueldres, and William de la Marck, called from his 
 ferocity the Wild Boar of Ardennes, were throwing off 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. xxxi 
 
 the habits of knights and gentlemen, to practise the 
 violences and brutalities of common bandits. 
 
 A hundred secret combinations existed in the different 
 provinces of France and Flanders; numerous private 
 emissaries of the restless Louis, Bohemians, pilgrims, 
 beggars, or agents disguised as such, were everywhere 
 spreading the discontent which it was his policy to 
 maintain in the dominions of Burgundy. 
 
 Amidst so great an abundance of materials, it was 
 difficult to select such as should be most intelligible 
 and interesting to the reader; and the author had to 
 regret, that though he made liberal use of the power of 
 departing from the reality of history, he felt by no 
 means confident of having brought his story into a plea- 
 sing, compact, and sufficiently intelligible form. The 
 mainspring of the plot is that which all who know the 
 least of the feudal system can easily understand, though 
 the facts are absolutely fictitious. The right of a 
 feudal superior was in nothing more universally ac- 
 knowledged than in his power to interfere in the mar- 
 riage of a female vassal. This may appear to exist as a 
 contradiction both of the civil and canon law, which 
 declare that marriage shall be free, while the feudal or 
 municipal jurisprudence, in case of a fief passing to a 
 female, acknowledges an interest in the superior of the 
 fief to dictate the choice of her companion in marriage. 
 This is accounted for on the principle that the superior 
 was, by his bounty, the original grantor of the fief, and 
 is still interested that the marriage of the vassal shall 
 place no one there who may be inimical to his liege lord. 
 On the other hand, it might be reasonably pleaded that 
 this right of dictating to the vassal to a certain extent 
 in the choice of a husband, is only competent to the su- 
 perior, from whom the fief is originally derived. There 
 is therefore no violent improbability in a vassal of Bur- 
 gundy flying to the protection of the King of France, 
 
xxxii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 to whom the Duke of Burgundy himself was vassal; 
 nor is it a great stretch of probability to affirm, that 
 Louis, unscrupulous as he was, should have formed the 
 design of betraying the fugitive into some alliance 
 which might prove inconvenient, if not dangerous, to 
 his formidable kinsman and vassal of Burgundy. 
 
 I may add, that the romance of Quentin Durward, 
 which acquired a popularity at home more extensive 
 than some of its predecessors, found also unusual suc- 
 cess on the continent, where the historical allusions 
 awakened more familiar ideas. 
 
 Abbotsford, 
 1st December, 1831. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 1 
 
 And one who hath had losses go to. 
 
 Much. Ado About Nothing. 
 
 When honest Dogberry sums up and recites all the 
 claims which he had to respectability, and which, as 
 he opined, ought to have exempted him from the 
 injurious appellation conferred on him by Master 
 Gentleman Conrade, it is remarkable that he lays not 
 more emphasis even upon his double gown, (a matter 
 of some importance in a certain ci-devant capital 
 which I wot of,) or upon his being "a pretty piece 
 of flesh as any in Messina," or even upon the con- 
 clusive argument of his being "a rich fellow enough," 
 than upon his being one that hath had losses. 
 
 Indeed, I have always observed your children of 
 prosperity, whether by way of hiding their full glow 
 of splendour from those whom fortune has treated more 
 harshly, or whether that to have risen in spite of 
 calamity is as honourable to their fortune as it is to 
 a fortress to have undergone a siege, however this 
 be, I have observed that such persons never fail to 
 entertain you with an account of the damage they 
 sustain by the hardness of the times. You seldom 
 dine at a well-supplied table, but the intervals be- 
 tween the Champagne, the Burgundy, and the Hock, 
 are filled, if your entertainer be a monied man, with 
 
 1 It is scarcely necessary to say, that all that follows is 
 imaginary. 
 
xxxiv QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 the fall of interest and the difficulty of finding invest* 
 ments for cash, which is therefore lying idle on his 
 hands ; or, if he be a landed proprietor, with a woful 
 detail of arrears and diminished rents. This hath its 
 effects. The guests, sigh and shake their heads in ca- 
 dence with their landlord, look on the sideboard loaded 
 with plate, sip once more the rich wines which flow 
 around them in quick circulation, and think of the gen- 
 uine benevolence, which, thus stinted of its' means, still 
 lavishes all that it yet possesses on hospitality; and, 
 what is yet more flattering, on the wealth, which, un- 
 diminished by these losses, still continues, like the 
 inexhaustible hoard of the generous Aboulcasem, 
 to sustain, without impoverishment, such copious 
 drains. 
 
 This querulous humour, however, hath its limits, 
 like to the conning of grievances, which all valetudina- 
 rians know is a most fascinating pastime, so long as there 
 is nothing to complain of but chronic complaints. But 
 I never heard a man whose credit was actually verging 
 to decay talk of the diminution of his funds ; and my 
 kind and intelligent physician assures me, that it is a 
 rare thing with those afflicted with a good rousing 
 fever, or any such active disorder, which 
 
 With mortal crisis doth pretend 
 
 His life to appropinque an end, , 
 
 to make their agonies the subject of amusing conver- 
 sation. 
 
 Having deeply considered all these things, I am no 
 longer able to disguise from my readers, that I am 
 neither so unpopular nor so low in fortune, as not to 
 have my share in the distresses which at present afflict 
 the monied and landed interest of these realms. Your 
 authors who live upon a mutton chop may rejoice that 
 it has fallen to threepence per pound, and, if they have 
 
INTRODUCTION. xxxv 
 
 children, gratulate themselves that the peck-loaf may 
 be had for sixpence ; but we who belong to the tribe 
 which is ruined by peace and plenty we who have 
 lands and beeves, and sell what these poor gleaners 
 must buy we are driven to despair by the very events 
 which would make all Grub-street illuminate its attics, 
 if Grub-street could spare candle-ends for the purpose. 
 I therefore put in my proud claim to share in the dis- 
 tresses which only affect the wealthy; and write 
 myself down, with Dogberry, "a rich fellow enough," 
 but still "one who hath had losses." 
 
 With the same generous spirit of emulation, I have 
 had lately recourse to the universal remedy for the 
 brief impecuniosity of which I complain a brief 
 residence in a southern climate, by which I have not 
 only saved many cart-loads of coals, but have also had 
 the pleasure to excite general sympathy for my decayed 
 circumstances among those, who, if my revenue had 
 continued to be spent among them, would have cared 
 little if I had been hanged. Thus, while I drink my vin 
 ordinaire, my brewer finds the sale of his small-beer 
 diminished while I discuss my flask of cinq francs, 
 my modicum of port hangs on my wine-merchant's hands 
 while my cotelette a-la-Maintenon is smoking on my 
 plate, the mighty sirloin hangs on its peg in the 
 shop of my blue-aproned friend in the village. 
 Whatever, in short, I spend here, is missed at home; 
 and the few sous gained by the garcon perruquier, nay, 
 the very crust I give to his little bare-bottomed, red- 
 eyed poodle, are autant de perdu to my old friend 
 the barber, and honest Trusty, the mastiff -dog in the 
 yard. So that I have the happiness of knowing at 
 every turn, that my absence is both missed and moaned 
 by those, who would care little were I in my coffin, 
 were they sure of the custom of my executors. 
 From this charge of self-seeking and indifference, 
 
xxxvi QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 however, I solemnly except Trusty, the yard-dog, 
 whose courtesies towards me, I have reason to think, 
 were of a more disinterested character than those of any 
 other person who assisted me to consume the bounty of 
 the Public. 
 
 Alas ! the advantage of exciting such general sym- 
 pathies at home cannot be secured without incurring 
 considerable personal inconvenience. " If thou wish- 
 est me to weep, thou must first shed tears thyself," 
 says Horace; and, truly, I could sometimes cry myself 
 at the exchange I have made of the domestic comforts 
 which custom had rendered necessaries, for the foreign 
 substitutes which caprice and love of change had ren- 
 dered fashionable. I cannot but confess with shame, 
 that my home-bred stomach longs for the genuine 
 steak, after the fashion of Dolly's, hot from the grid- 
 iron, brown without, and scarlet when the knife is 
 applied; and that all the delicacies of Very's carte, 
 with his thousand various orthographies of Bifticks 
 de Mouton, do not supply the vacancy. Then my 
 mother's son cannot learn to delight in thin po- 
 tations; and, in these days when malt is had for 
 nothing, I am convinced that a double straick of 
 John Barleycorn must have converted " the poor 
 domestic creature, small-beer," into a liquor twenty 
 times more generous than the acid unsubstantial 
 tipple, which here bears the honoured name of wine, 
 though, in substance and qualities, much similar to 
 your Seine water. Their higher wines, indeed, are 
 well enough there is nothing to except against in 
 their Chateau Margout, or Sillery; yet I cannot but 
 remember the generous qualities of my sound old 
 Oporto. Nay, down to the gargon and his poodle, 
 though they are both amusing animals, and play ten 
 thousand monkey-tricks which are diverting enough, 
 yet there was more sound humour in the wink with 
 
INTRODUCTION. xxxvii 
 
 which our village Packwood used to communicate the 
 news of the morning, than all Antoine's gambols could 
 have expressed in a week, and more of human and 
 dog-like sympathy in the wag of old Trusty's tail, than 
 if his rival, Touton, had stood on his hind-legs for a 
 twelvemonth. 
 
 These signs of repentance come perhaps a little late, 
 and I own, (for I must be entirely candid with my 
 dear friend the Public,) that they have been somewhat 
 matured by the perversion of my niece Christy to the 
 ancient Popish faith by a certain whacking priest in 
 our neighbourhood, and the marriage of my aunt 
 Dorothy to a demi-solde captain of horse, a ci-devant 
 member of the Legion of Honour, and who would, he 
 assures us, have been a Field-Marshal by this time, 
 had our old friend Bonaparte continued to live and to 
 triumph. For the matter of Christy, I must own her 
 head had been so fairly turned at Edinburgh with five 
 routs a-night, that, though I somewhat distrusted the 
 means and medium of her conversation, I was at the 
 same time glad to see that she took a serious thought 
 of any kind; besides, there was little loss in the 
 matter, for the Convent took her off my hands for a 
 very reasonable pension. But aunt Dorothy's marriage 
 on earth was a very different matter from Christian's 
 celestial espousals. In the first place, there were two 
 thousand three-percents as much lost to my family as if 
 the sponge had been drawn over the national slate for 
 who the deuce could have thought aunt Dorothy would 
 have married ? Above all, who would have thought a 
 Woman of fifty years' experience would have married 
 a French anatomy, his lower branch of limbs corre- 
 sponding with the upper branch, as if one pair of half- 
 extended compasses had been placed perpendicularly 
 upon the top of another, while the space on which the 
 hinges revolved, quite sufficed to represent the body ? 
 
xxxviii QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 All the rest was mustache, pelisse, and calico trowser. 
 She might have commanded a Polk of real Cossacks in 
 1815, for half the wealth which she surrendered to 
 this military scarecrow. However, there is no more 
 to be said upon the matter, especially as she had come 
 the length of quoting Rousseau for sentiment and so 
 let that pass. 
 
 Having thus expectorated my bile against a land, 
 which is, notwithstanding, a very merry land, and 
 which I cannot blame, because I sought it, and it did 
 not seek me, I come to the more immediate purpose of 
 this Introduction, and which, my dearest Public, if I 
 do not reckon too much on the continuance of your 
 favours, (though, to say truth, consistency and uni- 
 formity of taste are scarce to be reckoned upon by 
 those who court your good graces,) may perhaps go far 
 to make me amends for the loss and damage I have sus- 
 tained by bringing aunt Dorothy to the country of thick 
 calves, slender ankles, black mustaches, bodiless limbs, 
 
 (I assure you the fellow is, as my friend Lord L 
 
 said, a complete giblet-pie, all legs and wings,) and 
 fine sentiments. If she had taken from the half-pay 
 list, a ranting Highlandman, ay, or a dashing son of 
 Erin, I would never have mentioned the subject; but 
 as the affair has happened, it is scarce possible not to 
 resent such a gratuitous plundering of her own lawful 
 heirs and executors. But " be hushed my dark spirit ! " 
 and let us invite our dear Public to a more pleasing 
 theme to us, a more interesting one to others. 
 
 By dint of drinking acid tiff, as above mentioned, 
 and smoking cigars, in which I am no novice, my 
 Public are to be informed, that I gradually sipp'd and 
 smoked myself into a certain degree of acquaintance 
 with un homme comme il faut, one of the few fine old 
 specimens of nobility who are still to be found in France: 
 who, like mutilated statues of an antiquated and obso 
 
INTRODUCTION. xxxx 
 
 lete worship, still command a certain portion of awe 
 and estimation in the eyes even of those by whom 
 neither one nor other are voluntarily rendered. 
 
 On visiting the coffee-house of the village, I was, at 
 first, struck with the singular dignity and gravity of 
 this gentleman's manners, his sedulous attachment to 
 shoes and stockings, in contempt of half-boots and pant- 
 aloons, the croix de /Saint Louis at his button-hole, and 
 a small white cockade in the loop of his old-fashioned 
 schakos. There was something interesting in his whole 
 appearance; and besides, his gravity among the lively 
 group around him, seemed, like the shade of a tree in the 
 glare of a sunny landscape, more interesting from its 
 rarity. I made such advances towards acquaintance 
 as the circumstances of the place, and the manners of 
 the country, authorized that is to say, I drew near 
 him, smoked my cigar by calm and intermitted puffs, 
 which were scarcely visible, and asked him those few 
 questions which good-breeding everywhere, but more 
 especially in France, permits strangers to put, without 
 hazarding the imputation of impertinence. The Mar- 
 quis de Hautlieu, for such was his rank, was as short 
 and sententious as French politeness permitted he 
 answered every question, but proposed nothing, and en- 
 couraged no farther enquiry. 
 
 The truth was, that, not very accessible to foreigners 
 of any nation, or even to strangers among his own 
 countrymen, the Marquis was peculiarly shy towards 
 the English. A remnant of ancient national prejudice 
 might dictate this feeling; or it might arise from his 
 idea that they are a haughty, purse-proud people, to 
 whom rank, united with straitened circumstances, affords 
 as much subject for scorn as for pity ; or, finally, when 
 he reflected on certain recent events, he might perhaps 
 feel mortified as a Frenchman, even for those suc- 
 cesses, which had restored his master to the throne, 
 
xl QUENTIN DXJRWARD. 
 
 and himself to a diminished property and dilapidated 
 chateau. His dislike, however, never assumed a more 
 active form than that of alienation from English so- 
 ciety. When the affairs of strangers required, the 
 interposition of his influence in their behalf, it was 
 uniformly granted with the courtesy of a French gen- 
 tleman, who knew what is due to himself and to na- 
 tional hospitality. * 
 At length, by some chance, the Marquis made the dis- 
 covery, that the new frequenter of his ordinary was a 
 native of Scotland, a circumstance which told mightily 
 in my favour. Some of his own ancestors, he informed 
 me, had been of Scottish origin, and he believed his 
 house had still some relations in what he was pleased to 
 call the province of Hanguisse, in that country. The 
 connexion had been acknowledged early in the last cen- 
 tury on both sides, and he had once almost determined, 
 during his exile, (for it may be supposed that the Mar- 
 quis had joined the ranks of Conde, and shared all the 
 misfortunes and distresses of emigration,) to claim the 
 acquaintance and protection of his Scottish friends. 
 But, after all, he said, he cared not to present himself 
 before them in circumstances which could do them but 
 small credit, and which they might think entailed some 
 little burden, perhaps even some little disgrace ; so that 
 he thought it best to trust in Providence, and do the 
 best he could for his own support. What that was I 
 never could learn; but I am sure it inferred nothing 
 which could be discreditable to the excellent old man, 
 who held fast his opinions and his loyalty, through 
 good and bad repute, till time restored him, aged, indi- 
 gent, and broken-spirited, to the country which he had 
 left in the prime of youth and health, and sobered by 
 age into patience, instead of that tone of high resent- 
 ment, which promised speedy vengeance upon those who 
 expelled him. I might have laughed at some points of 
 
INTRODUCTION. xl; 
 
 the Marquis's character, at his prejudices, particularly, 
 both of birth and politics, if I had known him under 
 more prosperous circumstances ; but, situated as he was, 
 even if they had not been fair and honest prejudices, 
 turning on no base or interested motive, one must have 
 respected him as we respect the confessor or the martyr 
 of a religion which is not entirely our own. 
 
 By degrees we became good friends, drank our coffee, 
 smoked our cigar, and took our bavaroise together, for 
 more than six weeks, with little interruption from avo- 
 cations on either side. Having, with some difficulty, 
 got the key-note of his enquiries concerning Scotland, 
 by a fortunate conjecture that the province d'Hanguisse 
 could only be our shire of Angus, I was enabled to 
 answer the most of his queries concerning his allies 
 there in a manner more or less satisfactory, and was 
 much surprised to find the Marquis much better ac- 
 quainted with the genealogy of some of the distin- 
 guished families in that county, than I could possibly 
 have expected. 
 
 On his part, his satisfaction at our intercourse was so 
 great, that he at length wound himself to such a pitch 
 of resolution, as to invite me to dine at the Chateau de 
 Hautlieu, well deserving the name, as occupying a com- 
 manding eminence on the banks of the Loire. This 
 building lay about three miles from the town at which 
 I had settled my temporary establishment; and when I 
 first beheld it, I could easily forgive the mortified feel- 
 ings which the owner testified, at receiving a guest in 
 the asylum which he had formed out of the ruins of 
 the palace of his fathers. He gradually, with much 
 gaiety, which yet evidently covered a deeper feeling, 
 prepared me for the sort of place I was about to visit; 
 and for this he had full opportunity whilst he drove 
 ine in his little cabriolet, drawn by a large heavy Nor- 
 man horse, towards the ancient building. 
 
xlii QUENTIN DURWAUD. 
 
 Its remains run along a beautiful terrace overhanging 
 the river Loire, which had been formerly laid out with 
 a succession of flights of steps, highly ornamented with 
 statues, rock-work, and other artificial embellishments, 
 descending from one terrace to another, until the very 
 verge of the river was attained. All this architectural 
 decoration, with its accompanying parterres of rich 
 flowers and exotic shrubs, had, many years since, given 
 place to the more profitable scene of the vine-dresser's 
 labours; yet the remains, too massive to be destroyed, 
 are still visible, and, with the various artificial slopes 
 and levels of the high bank, bear perfect evidence how 
 actively Art had been here employed to decorate Nature. 
 
 Few of these scenes are now left in perfection; for 
 the fickleness of fashion (c) has accomplished in Eng- 
 land the total change which devastation and popular 
 fury have produced in the French pleasure-grounds. 
 For my part, I am contented to subscribe to the 
 opinion of the best qualified judge of our time, 1 who 
 thinks we have carried to an extreme our taste for sim- 
 plicity, and that the neighbourhood of a stately mansion 
 requires some more ornate embellishments than can be 
 derived from the meagre accompaniments of grass and 
 gravel. A highly romantic situation may be degraded, 
 perhaps, by an attempt at such artificial ornaments; 
 but then, in by far the greater number of sites, the 
 intervention of more architectural decoration than is 
 now in use, seems necessary to redeem the naked tanie- 
 ness of a large house, placed by itself in the midst of a 
 lawn, where it looks as much unconnected with all 
 around, as if it had walked out of town upon an airing. 
 
 1 See Price's Essay on the Picturesque, in many passages ; but I 
 would particularize the beautiful and highly poetical account which 
 he gives of his own feelings on destroying, at the dictate of an im- 
 prover, an ancient sequestrated garden, with its yew hedges, orna- 
 mented iron gates, and secluded wilderness. 
 
INTRODUCTION. xtiii 
 
 How the taste came to change so suddenly and abso^ 
 lutely, is rather a singular circumstance, unless we 
 explain it on the same principle on which the three 
 friends of the Father in Moliere's comedy recommend 
 a cure for the melancholy of his Daughter that he 
 should furnish her apartments, viz. with paintings 
 with tapestry or with china, according to the different 
 commodities in which each of them was a dealer. Tried 
 by this scale, we may perhaps discover, that, of old, the 
 architect laid out the garden and the pleasure-grounds 
 in the neighbourhood of the mansion, and, naturally 
 enough, displayed his own art there in statues and 
 vases, and paved terraces and flights of steps, with orna- 
 mented balustrades; while the gardener, subordinate in 
 rank, endeavoured to make the vegetable kingdom cor- 
 respond to the prevailing taste, and cut his evergreens 
 into verdant walls, with towers and battlements, and 
 his detached trees into a resemblance of statuary. But 
 the wheel has since revolved, so as to place the land- 
 scape-gardener, as he is called, almost upon a level with 
 the architect; and hence a liberal and somewhat violent 
 use is made of spade and pick-axe, and a conversion of 
 the ostentatious labours of the architect into a ferme 
 ornee, as little different from the simplicity of Nature, 
 as displayed in the surrounding country, as the com- 
 forts of convenient and cleanly walks, imperiously de- 
 manded in the vicinage of a gentleman's residence, can 
 possibly admit. 
 
 To return from this digression, which has given 
 the Marquis's cabriolet (its activity greatly retarded 
 by the downward propensities of Jean Roast-beef, 
 which I suppose the Norman horse cursed as heartily 
 as his countrymen of old time execrated the stolid 
 obesity of a Saxon slave) time to ascend the hill by a 
 winding causeway, now much broken, we came in 
 sight of a long range of roofless buildings, connected 
 
xliv . QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 with the western extremity of the castle, which was 
 totally ruinous. "I should apologize," he said, " to 
 you, as an Englishman, for the taste of my ancestors, 
 in connecting that row of stahles with the architecture 
 of the chateau. I know in your country it is usual 
 to remove them to some distance; hut my family had 
 an hereditary pride in horses, and were fond of visiting 
 them more frequently than would have heen convenient 
 if they had been kept at a greater distance. Before the 
 Revolution, I had thirty fine horses in that ruinous 
 line of buildings." 
 
 This recollection of past magnificence escaped from 
 him accidentally, for he was generally sparing in allud- 
 ing to his former opulence. It was quietly said, without 
 any affectation either of the importance attached to early 
 wealth, or as demanding sympathy for its having past 
 away. It awakened unpleasing reflections, however, 
 and we were both silent, till, from a partially repaired 
 corner of what had been a porter's lodge, a lively 
 French paysanne, with eyes as black as jet, and as 
 brilliant as diamonds, came out with a smile, which 
 showed a set of teeth that duchesses might have envied, 
 and took the reins of the little carriage. 
 
 "Madelon must be groom to-day," said the Marquis, 
 after graciously nodding in return for her deep rever- 
 ence to Monsieur, "for her husband is gone to market; 
 and for La Jeunesse, he is almost distracted with his 
 various occupations. Madelon," he .continued, as we 
 walked forward under the entrance-arch, crowned 
 with the mutilated armorial bearings of former lords, 
 now half-obscured by moss and rye-grass, not to men- 
 tion the vagrant branches of some unpruned shrubs, 
 "Madelon was my wife's god-daughter, and was 
 educated to be fille-de-chambre to my daughter." 
 
 This passing intimation, that he was a widowed 
 husband and childless father, increased my respect 
 
INTRODUCTION. xlv 
 
 for the unfortunate nobleman, to whom every particular 
 attached to his present situation- brought doubtless its 
 own share of food for melancholy reflection. He pro- 
 ceeded, after the pause of an instant, with something 
 of a gayer tone, " You will be entertained with my 
 poor La Jeunesse," he said, "who, by the way, is 
 ten years older than I am" (the Marquis is above 
 sixty) "he reminds me of the player in the Homati 
 Comique, who acted a whole play in his own proper per- 
 son he insists on being maitre d'hotel, maitre de 
 cuisine, valet-de-chambre, a whole suite of attendants in 
 his own poor individuality. He sometimes reminds me 
 of a character in the Bridle of Lammermore, which 
 you must have read, as it is the work of one of your gens 
 de lettres, qu'on appelle, je crois, le Chevalier Scott." 1 
 
 "I presume you mean Sir Walter ?" 
 
 "Yes the same the same," answered the 
 Marquis. 
 
 We were now led away from more painful recol- 
 lections; for I had to put my French friend right in 
 two particulars. In the first I prevailed with diffi- 
 culty ; for the Marquis, though he disliked the 
 English, yet, having been three months in London, 
 piqued himself on understanding the most intricate 
 difficulties of our language, and appealed to every 
 dictionary, from Florio downwards, that la Bride must 
 mean the Bridle. Nay, so sceptical was he on this 
 point of philology, that, when I ventured to hint that 
 there was nothing about a bridle in the whole story, 
 he with great composure, and little knowing to whom 
 he spoke, laid the whole blame of that inconsistency 
 on the unfortunate author. I had next the common 
 candour to inform my friend, upon grounds which no 
 
 1 It is scarce necessary to remind the reader that this passage 
 was published during the author's incognito ; and, as Lucio 
 expresses it, spoken " according to the trick." 
 
xlvi QUENT1N DURWARD. 
 
 one could know so well as myself, that my distinguished 
 literary countryman, .of whom I shall always speak 
 with the respect his talents deserve, was not respon- 
 sible for the slight works which the humour of the 
 public had too generously, as well as too rashly, 
 ascribed to him. Surprised by the impulse of the 
 moment, I might even have gone farther, and clenched 
 the negative by positive evidence, owning to my 
 entertainer that no one else could possibly have written 
 these works, since I myself was the author, when I was 
 saved from so rash a commitment of myself by the 
 calm reply of the Marquis, that he was glad to hear 
 these sort of trifles were not written by a person of 
 condition. "We read them," he said, "as we listen 
 to the pleasantries of a comedian, or as our ancestors 
 did to those of a professed family-jester, with a good 
 deal of amusement, which, however, we should be 
 sorry to derive from the mouth of one who has better 
 claims to our society." 
 
 I was completely recalled to my constitutional 
 caution by this declaration; and became so much 
 afraid of committing myself, that I did not even 
 venture to explain to my aristocratic friend, that the 
 gentleman whom he had named owed his advancement, 
 for aught I had ever heard, to certain works of his, 
 which may, without injury, be compared to romances 
 in rhyme. 
 
 The truth is, that, amongst some other unjust 
 prejudices, at which I have already hinted, the 
 Marquis had contracted a horror, mingled with con- 
 tempt, for almost every species of author-craft, slighter 
 than that which compounds a folio volume of law or 
 of divinity, and looked upon the author of a romance, 
 novel, fugitive poem, or periodical piece of criticism, 
 as men do on a venomous reptile, with fear at once 
 and with loathing. The abuse of the press, he con- 
 
INTRODUCTION. xlvii 
 
 tended, especially in its lighter departments, had 
 poisoned the whole morality of Europe, and was once 
 more gradually regaining an influence which had been 
 silenced amidst the voice of war. All writers, except 
 those of the largest and heaviest calibre, he conceived 
 to be devoted to this evil cause, from Rousseau and Vol- 
 taire down to Pigault le Brun and the author of the 
 Scotch Novels; and although he admitted he read them 
 pour passer le temps, yet, like Pistol eating his leek, it 
 was not without execrating the tendency, as he devoured 
 the story, of the work with which he was engaged. 
 
 Observing this peculiarity, I backed out of the candid 
 confession which my vanity had meditated, and engaged 
 the Marquis in farther remarks on the mansion of his 
 ancestors. " There," he said, "was the theatre where 
 my father used to procure an order for the special at- 
 tendance of some of the principal actors of the Comedie 
 Franchise, when the King and Madame Pompadour more 
 than once visited him at this place; yonder, more to 
 the centre, was the Baron's hall, where his feudal juris- 
 diction was exercised when criminals were to be tried 
 by the Seigneur or his bailiff; for we had, like your old 
 Scottish nobles, the right of pit and gallows, or fossa 
 cumfurca, as the civilians term it; beneath that lies 
 the Question-chamber, or apartment for torture; and, 
 truly, I am sorry a right so liable to abuse should have 
 been lodged in the hands of any living creature. But," 
 he added, with a feeling of dignity derived even from 
 the atrocities which his ancestors had committed be- 
 neath the grated windows to which he pointed, "such 
 is the effect of superstition, that, to this day, the peas- 
 ants dare not approach the dungeons, in which, it is 
 said, the wrath of my ancestors had perpetrated, in for- 
 mer times, much cruelty." 
 
 As we approached the window, while I expressed 
 some curiosity to see this abode of terror, there arose 
 
xlviii QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 from its subterranean abyss a shrill shout of laughter, 
 which we easily detected as produced by a group of play- 
 ful children, who had made the neglected vaults a 
 theatre, for a joyous romp at Colin Maillard. 
 
 The Marquis was somewhat disconcerted, and had 
 recourse to his tabatiere ; but, recovering in a moment, 
 observed, these were Madelon's children, and familiar 
 with the supposed terrors of the subterranean recesses. 
 M Besides," he added, "to speak the truth, these poor 
 children have been born after the period of supposed 
 illumination, which dispelled our superstition and our 
 religion at once; and this bids me to remind you, that 
 this is a jour maigre. The Cure of the parish is my 
 only guest, besides yourself, and I would not voluntarily 
 offend his opinions. Besides, " he continued, more man- 
 fully, and throwing off his restraint, "adversity has 
 taught me other thoughts on these subjects than those 
 which prosperity dictated; and I thank God I am not 
 ashamed to avow, that I follow the observances of my 
 church.' ? 
 
 I hastened to answer, that, though they might differ 
 from those of my own, I had every possible respect for 
 the religious rules of every Christian community, sen- 
 sible that we addressed the same Deity, on the same 
 grand principle of salvation, though with different 
 forms ; which variety of worship, had it pleased the 
 Almighty not to permit, our observances would have 
 been as distinctly prescribed to us as they are laid 
 down under the Mosaic law. 
 
 The Marquis was no shaker of hands, but upon the 
 present occasion he grasped mine, and shook it kindly 
 the only mode of acquiescence in my sentiments 
 which perhaps a zealous Catholic could, or ought con- 
 sistently to have given upon such an occasion. 
 
 This circumstance of explanation and remark, with 
 others which arose out of the view of the extensive 
 
INTRODUCTION. xlix 
 
 ruins, occupied us during, two or three turns upon the 
 long terrace, and a seat of about a quarter of an hour's 
 duration in a vaulted pavilion of freestone, decorated 
 with the Marquis's armorial bearings, the roof of which, 
 though disjointed in some of its groined arches, was 
 still solid and entire. " Here," said he, resuming the 
 tone of a former part of his conversation, u I love to sit, 
 either at noon, when the alcove affords me shelter from 
 the heat, or in the evening, when the sun's beams are 
 dying on the broad face of the Loire here, in the 
 words of your great poet, whom, Frenchman as I am, I 
 am more intimately acquainted with than most English- 
 men, I love to rest myself, 
 
 * Showing the code of sweet and bitter fancy.' " 
 
 Against this various reading of a well-known passage 
 in Shakspeare I took care to offer no protest; for 1 
 suspect Shakspeare would have suffered in the opinion 
 of so delicate a judge as the Marquis, had I proved his 
 having written " chewing the cud," according to all 
 other authorities. Besides, I had had enough of our 
 former dispute, having been long convinced, (though 
 not till ten years after I had left Edinburgh College,) 
 that the pith of conversation does not consist in exhibit- 
 ing your own superior knowledge on matters of small 
 consequence, but in enlarging, improving, and correct- 
 ing the information you possess, by the authority of 
 others. I therefore' let the Marquis show his code at 
 his pleasure, and was rewarded by his entering into a 
 learned and well-informed disquisition on the florid 
 style of architecture introduced into France during the 
 seventeenth century. He pointed out its merits and 
 its defects with considerable taste ; and having touched 
 on topics similar to those upon which I have formerly 
 digressed, he made an appeal of a different kind in their 
 favour, founded on the associations with which they 
 
1 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 were combined. "Who," he said, "would willingly 
 destroy the terraces of the Chateau of Sully, since we 
 cannot tread them without recalling the image of that 
 statesman, alike distinguished for severe integrity and 
 for strong and unerring sagacity of mind? Were they 
 an inch less broad, a ton's weight less massive, or were 
 they deprived of their formality by the slightest inflec- 
 tions, could we suppose them to remain the scene of his 
 patriotic musings ? Would an ordinary root-house be 
 a fit scene for the Duke occupying an arm-chair, and 
 his Duchess a tabouret teaching from thence lessons 
 of courage and fidelity to his sons, of modesty and 
 submission to his daughters, of rigid morality to 
 both; while the circle of young noblesse listened with 
 ears attentive, and eyes modestly fixed on the ground, in 
 a standing posture, neither replying nor sitting down, 
 without the express command of their prince and pa- 
 rent ? No, Monsieur," he said, with enthusiasm; 
 " destroy the princely pavilion in which this edifying 
 family-scene was represented, and you remove from the 
 mind the vraisemblance, the veracity, of the whole rep- 
 resentation. Or can your mind suppose this distin- 
 guished peer and patriot walking in a jardin Anglois ? 
 Why, you might as well fancy him dressed with a blue 
 frock and white waistcoat, instead of his Henri Quatre 
 coat and chapeau a-plumes Consider how he could 
 have moved in the tortuous maze of what you have 
 called a ferme ornee, with his usual attendants of two 
 files of Swiss guards preceding, and the same number 
 following him. To recall his figure, with his beard 
 haut-de-chausses a, canon, united to his doublet by ten 
 thousand aiguilettes and knots of ribbon, you could not, 
 supposing him in a modern jardin Anglois, distinguish 
 the picture in your imagination, from the sketch of some 
 mad old man, who has adopted the humour of dress- 
 ing like his great-great-grandfather, and whom a party 
 
INTRODUCTION. II 
 
 of gens-d'armes were conducting to the Hopltal des 
 Fous. But look on the long and magnificent terrace, 
 if it yet exists, which the loyal and exalted Sully was 
 wont to make the scene of his solitary walk twice a-day, 
 while he pondered over the patriotic schemes which he 
 nourished for advancing the glory of France; or, at a 
 later, and more sorrowful period of life, brooded over 
 the memory of his murdered master, and the fate of his 
 distracted country; throw in that noble background 
 of arcades, vases, images, urns, and whatever could ex- 
 press the vicinity of a ducal palace, and the landscape 
 becomes consistent at once. The factionnaires, with 
 their harquebusses ported, placed at the extremities of 
 the long and level walk, intimate the presence of the 
 feudal prince; while the same is more clearly shown by 
 the guard of honour which precede and follow him, 
 their halberds carried upright, their mien martial and 
 stately, as if in the presence of an enemy, yet moved, as 
 it were, with the same soul as their princely superior 
 teaching their steps to attend upon his, marching as 
 he marches, halting as he halts, accommodating their 
 pace even to the slight irregularities of pause and ad- 
 vance dictated by the fluctuations of his reverie, and 
 wheeling with military precision before and behind 
 him, who seems the centre and animating principle of 
 their armed files, as the heart gives life and energy to 
 the human body. Or, if you smile," added the Mar- 
 quis, looking doubtfully on my countenance, " at a pro- 
 menade so inconsistent with the light freedom of modern 
 manners, could you bring your mind to demolish that 
 other terrace trod by the fascinating Marchioness de 
 Sevigne, with which are united so many recollections 
 connected with passages in her enchanting letters ? " 
 
 A little tired of this disquisition, which the Marquis 
 certainly dwelt upon to exalt the natural beauties of 
 his own terrace, which, dilapidated as it was, required 
 
Iii QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 no such formal recommendation, I informed my com- 
 panion, that I had just received from England a journal 
 of a tour made in the south of France hy a young Ox- 
 onian friend of mine, a poet, a draughtsman, and a 
 scholar, in which he gives such an animated and 
 interesting description of the Chateau-Grignan, the 
 dwelling of Madame de Sevigne's beloved daughter, 
 and frequently the place of her own residence, that no 
 one who ever read the book would be within forty miles 
 of the same, without going a pilgrimage to the spot. 
 The Marquis smiled, seemed very much pleased, and 
 asked the title at length of the work in question; and 
 writing down to my dictation, "An Itinerary of Pro- 
 vence and the Rhone, made during the year 1819; 
 by John Hughes, A.M., of Oriel College, Oxford," 
 observed, he could now purchase no books for the 
 chateau, but would recommend that the Itineraire 
 should be commissioned for the library to which he 
 was abonne in the neighbouring town. "And here," 
 he said, "comes the Cure, to save us farther disquisi- 
 tion; and I see La Jeunesse gliding round the old 
 portico on the terrace, with the purpose of ringing the 
 dinner-bell a most unnecessary ceremony for assem- 
 bling three persons, but which it would break the old 
 man's heart to forego. Take no notice of him at pre- 
 sent, as he wishes to perform the duties of the inferior de- 
 partments incognito j when the bell has ceased to sound, 
 he will blaze forth on us in the character of major-domo." 
 
 As the Marquis spoke, we had advanced towards the 
 eastern extremity of the Chateau, which was the only 
 part of the edifice that remained still habitable. 
 
 "The Bande Noire," said the Marquis, "when they 
 pulled the rest of the house to pieces, for the sake of 
 the lead, timber, and other materials, have, in their 
 ravages, done me the undesigned favour to reduce it 
 to dimensions better fitting the circumstances of the 
 
INTRODUCTION. liii 
 
 owner. There is enough of the leaf left for the cater- 
 pillar to coil up his chrysalis in, and what needs he care 
 though reptiles have devoured the rest of the bush ?" 
 
 As he spoke thus, we reached the door, at which La 
 Jeunesse appeared, with an air at once of prompt ser- 
 vice and deep respect, and a countenance, which, though 
 puckered by a thousand wrinkles, was ready to answer 
 the first good-natured word of his master with a smile, 
 which showed his white set of teeth firm and fair, in 
 despite of age and suffering. His clean silk stockings, 
 washed till their tint had become yellowish his cue 
 tied with a rosette the thin grey curl on either side 
 of his lank cheek the pearl-coloured coat, without a 
 collar the solitaire, the jabot, the ruffles at the wrist, 
 and the chapeau-bras all announced that La Jeunesse 
 considered the arrival of a guest at the Chateau as an 
 unusual event, which was to be met with a correspond- 
 ing display of magnificence and parade on his part. 
 
 As I looked at the faithful though fantastic follower 
 of his master, who doubtless inherited his prejudices as 
 well as his cast-clothes, I could not but own, in my 
 own mind, the resemblance pointed out by the Marquis 
 betwixt him and my own Caleb, the trusty squire of 
 the Master of Ravenswood. But a Frenchman, a 
 Jack-of-all-trades by nature, can, with much more ease 
 and suppleness, address himself to a variety of services, 
 and suffice in his own person to discharge them all, 
 than is possible for the formality and slowness of a 
 Scottishman. Superior to Caleb in dexterity, though 
 not in zeal, La Jeunesse seemed to multiply himself 
 with the necessities of the occasion, and discharged his 
 several tasks with such promptitude and assiduity, that 
 farther attendance than his was neither missed nor 
 wished for. 
 
 The dinner, in particular, was exquisite. The soup, 
 although bearing the term oimaigre, which Englishmen 
 
Iiv QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 use in scorn, was most delicately flavoured, and the 
 matelot of pike and eels reconciled me, though a Scot- 
 tishman, to the latter. There was even a petit plat of 
 bouilli for the heretic, so exquisitely dressed as to re- 
 tain all the juices, and, at the same time, rendered so 
 thoroughly tender, that nothing could be more delicate. 
 The potage, with another small dish or two, were equally 
 well arranged. But what the old maitre d'hotel valued 
 himself upon as something superb, smiling with self- 
 satisfaction, and in enjoyment of my surprise, as he 
 placed it on the table, was an immense assiettee of 
 spinage, not smoothed into a uniform surface, as by our 
 uninaugurated cooks upon your side of the water, but 
 swelling into hills, and declining into vales, over which 
 swept a gallant stag, pursued by a pack of hounds in 
 full cry, and a noble field of horsemen with bugle- 
 horns, and whips held upright, and brandished after 
 the manner of broadswords hounds, huntsman, and 
 stag, being all very artificially cut out of toasted bread. 
 Enjoying the praises which I failed not to bestow on this 
 chef d' ceuvre, the old man acknowledged it had cost the 
 best part of two days to bring it to perfection; and 
 added, giving honour where honour was due, that an idea 
 so brilliant was not entirely his own, but that Monsieur 
 himself had taken the trouble to give him several valu- 
 able hints, and even condescended to assist in the execu- 
 tion of some of the most capital figures. The Marquis 
 blushed a little at this eclaircissement, which he might 
 probably have wished to suppress, but acknowledged 
 he had wished to surprise me with a scene from the 
 popular poem of my country, Miladi Lac. I answered, 
 that so splendid a cortege much more resembled a grand 
 chasse of Louis Quatorze than of a poor King of Scot- 
 land, and that the paysage was rather like Fontainbleau 
 than the wilds of Callender. He bowed graciously in 
 answer to this compliment, and acknowledged that rec- 
 
INTRODUCTION. h 
 
 ollections of the costume of the old French Court, when 
 in its splendour, might have misled his imagination 
 and so the conversation passed on to other matters. 
 
 Our dessert was exquisite the cheese, the fruits, the 
 salad, the olives, the cemeaux, and the delicious white 
 wine, each in their way were impayables; and the good 
 Marquis, with an air of great satisfaction, observed, 
 that his guest did sincere homage to their merits. 
 " After all," he said, "and yet it is but confessing a 
 foolish weakness but, after all, I cannot but rejoice 
 in feeling myself equal to offering a stranger a sort of 
 hospitality which seems pleasing to him. Believe me, it 
 is not entirely out of pride that we pauvres revenants 
 live so very retired, and avoid the duties of hospitality. 
 It is true, that too many of us wander about the halls 
 of our fathers, rather like ghosts of their deceased pro- 
 prietors, than like living men restored to their own 
 possessions yet it is rather on your account, than to 
 spare our own feelings, that we do not cultivate the so- 
 ciety of our foreign visitors. We have an idea that your 
 opulent nation is particularly attached to faste, and to 
 grande chere to your ease and enjoyment of every 
 kind; and the means of entertainment left to us are, in 
 most cases, so limited, that we feel ourselves totally 
 precluded from such expense and ostentation. No one 
 wishes to offer his best where he has reason to think it 
 will not give pleasure ; and as many of you publish 
 your journals, Monsieur le Marquis would not probably 
 be much gratified, by seeing the poor dinner which he 
 was able to present to Milord Anglois put upon perma- 
 nent record." 
 
 I interrupted the Marquis, that were I to wish an ac- 
 count of my entertainment published, it would be only 
 in order to preserve the memory of the very best dinner 
 I ever had eaten in my life. He bowed in return, and 
 presumed " that I either differed much from the national 
 
/vi QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 taste, or the accounts of it were greatly exaggerated. 
 He was particularly obliged to me for showing the 
 value of the possessions which remained to him. The 
 useful," he said, " had no doubt .survived the sumptu- 
 ous at Hautlieu as elsewhere. Grottoes, statues, curious 
 conservatories of exotics, temple and tower, had gone to 
 the ground; but the vineyard, the potager, the orchard, 
 the Hang, still existed; and once more he expressed 
 himself happy to find, that their combined productions 
 could make what even a Briton accepted as a tolerable 
 meal. I only hope," he continued, "that you will 
 convince me your compliments are sincere, by accept- 
 ing the hospitality of the Chateau de Hautlieu as often 
 as better engagements will permit during your stay in 
 this neighbourhood." 
 
 I readily promised to accept an invitation offered 
 with such grace, as to make the guest appear the person 
 conferring the obligation. 
 
 The conversation then changed to the history of the 
 Chateau and its vicinity a subject which was strong 
 ground to the Marquis, though he was no great anti- 
 quary, and even no very profound historian, when other 
 topics were discussed. The Cure, however, chanced 
 to be both, and withal a very conversable pleasing man, 
 with an air of prevenance, and ready civility of commu- 
 nication, which I have found a leading characteristic of 
 the Catholic clergy, whether they are well-informed or 
 otherwise. It was from him that I learned there still 
 existed the remnant of a fine library in the Chateau de 
 Hautlieu. The Marquis shrugged his shoulders as the 
 Cure gave me this intimation, looked to the one side 
 and the other, and displayed the same sort of petty em- 
 barrassment which he had been unable to suppress when 
 La Jeunesse blabbed something of his interference with 
 the arrangements of the cuisine. "I should be happy 
 to show the books," he said, "but they are in such a 
 
INTRODUCTION. lvii 
 
 wild condition, so dismantled, that I am ashamed to 
 exhibit them to any one." 
 
 "Forgive me, my dear sir," said the Cure, "you 
 know you permitted the great English Bibliomaniac, 
 Dr. Dibdin, (d) to consult your curious relics, and you 
 know how highly he spoke-of them." 
 
 "What could I do, my dear friend ?" said the Mar- 
 quis; "the good Doctor had heard some exaggerated 
 account of these remnants of what was once a library 
 he had stationed himself in the auberge below, de- 
 termined to carry his point or die under the walls. I 
 even heard of his taking the altitude of the turret, in 
 order to provide scaling-ladders. You would not have 
 had me reduce a respectable divine, though of another 
 church, to such an act of desperation ? I could not 
 have answered it in conscience." 
 
 "But you know, besides, Monsieur le Marquis," 
 continued the Cure, "that Dr. Dibdin was so much 
 grieved at the dilapidation your library had sustained, 
 that he avowedly envied the powers of our church, so 
 much did he long to launch an anathema at the heads 
 of the perpetrators." 
 
 "His resentment was in proportion to his disap- 
 pointment, I suppose," said our entertainer. 
 
 "Not so," said the Cure ; "for he was so enthusi- 
 astic on the value of what remains, that I am con- 
 vinced nothing but your positive request to the contrary 
 prevented the Chateau of Hautlieu occupying at least 
 twenty pages in that splendid work of which he sent 
 us a copy, and which will remain a lasting monument 
 of his zeal and erudition." 
 
 "Dr. Dibdin is extremely polite," said the Mar- 
 quis ; "and, when we have had our coffee here it 
 comes we will go to the turret ; and I hope, as Mon- 
 sieur has not despised my poor fare, so he will pardon 
 the state of my confused library, while I shall be 
 
lviii QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 equally happy if it can afford any thing which can give 
 him amusement. Indeed, " he added, " were it other- 
 wise, you, my good father, have every right over books, 
 which, without your intervention, would never have 
 returned to the owner." 
 
 Although this additional act of courtesy was evi- 
 dently wrested by the importunity of the Cure from 
 his reluctant friend, whose desire to conceal the naked- 
 ness of the land, and the extent of his losses, seemed 
 always to struggle with his disposition to be obliging, 
 I could not help accepting an offer, which, in strict 
 politeness, I ought perhaps to have refused. But then 
 the remains of a collection of such curiosity as had 
 given to our bibliomaniacal friend the desire of leading 
 the forlorn hope in an escalade it would have been 
 a desperate act of self-denial to have declined an oppor- 
 tunity of seeing it. La Jeunesse brought coffee, such 
 as we only taste on the continent, upon a salver, cov- 
 ered with a napkin, that it might be cense for silver ; 
 and chasse caffe from Martinique on a small waiter, 
 which was certainly so. Our repast thus finished, the 
 Marquis led me, up an escalier derobe, into a very large 
 and well-proportioned saloon, of nearly one hundred 
 feet in length ; but so waste and dilapidated, that I 
 kept my eyes on the ground, lest my kind entertainer 
 should feel himself called upon to apologize for tattered 
 pictures and torn tapestry ; and, worse than both, for 
 casements that had yielded, in one or two instances, to 
 the boisterous blast. 
 
 " We have contrived to make the turret something 
 more habitable,' ' said the Marquis, as he moved hastily 
 through this chamber of desolation. " This," he said, 
 "was the picture gallery in former times, and in the 
 boudoir beyond, which we now occupy as a book-closet, 
 were preserved some curious cabinet paintings, whose 
 small size required that they should be viewed closely." 
 
INTRODUCTION. lix 
 
 As he spoke, he held aside a portion of the tapestry 
 I have mentioned, and we entered the room of which 
 he spoke. 
 
 It was octangular, corresponding to the external 
 shape of the turret whose interior it occupied. Four 
 of the sides had latticed windows, commanding each, 
 from a different point, the most beautiful prospect over 
 the majestic Loire, and the adjacent country through 
 which it winded ; and the casements were filled with 
 stained glass, through two of which streamed the lustre 
 of the setting sun, showing a brilliant assemblage of 
 religious emblems and armorial bearings, which it was 
 scarcely possible to look at with an undazzled eye ; 
 but the other two windows, from which the sunbeams 
 had passed away, could be closely examined, and plainly 
 showed that the lattices were glazed with stained glass, 
 which did not belong to them originally, but, as I 
 afterwards learned, to the profaned and desecrated 
 chapel of the Castle. It had been the amusement of 
 the Marquis, for several months, to accomplish this W- 
 facimento, with the assistance of the Curate and the all- 
 capable La Jeunesse ; and though they had only 
 patched together fragments, which were in many 
 places very minute, yet the stained glass, till examined 
 very closely, and with the eye of an antiquary, pro- 
 duced, on the whole, a very pleasing effect. 
 
 The sides of the apartment, not occupied by the 
 lattices, were (except the space for the small door) 
 fitted up with presses and shelves, some of walnut-tree, 
 curiously carved, and brought to a dark colour by time, 
 nearly resembling that of a ripe chestnut, and partly 
 of common deal, employed to repair and supply the de- 
 ficiencies occasioned by violence and devastation. On 
 these shelves were deposited the wrecks, or rather the 
 precious relics, of a most splendid library. 
 
 The Marquis's father had been a man of information, 
 
lx QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 and his grandfather was famous, even in the Court of 
 Louis XIV., where literature was in some degree con- 
 sidered as the fashion, for the extent of his acquire- 
 ments. Those two proprietors, opulent in their fortunes, 
 and liberal in the indulgence of their taste, had made 
 such additions to a curious old Gothic library, which 
 had descended from their ancestors, that there were 
 few collections in France which could be compared to 
 that of Hautlieu. It had been completely dispersed, 
 in consequence of an ill-judged attempt of the present 
 Marquis, in 1790, to defend his Chateau against a 
 revolutionary mob. Luckily, the Cure, who, by his 
 charitable and moderate conduct, and his evangelical 
 virtues, possessed much interest among the neighbour- 
 ing peasantry, prevailed on many of them to buy, for 
 the petty sum of a few sous, and sometimes at the vul- 
 gar rate of a glass of brandy, volumes which had cost 
 large sums, but which were carried off in mere spite by 
 the ruffians who pillaged the Castle. He himself also 
 had purchased as many of the books as his funds could 
 possibly reach, and to his care it was owing that they 
 were restored to the turret in which I found them. It 
 was no wonder, therefore, that the good Cure had 
 some pride and pleasure in showing the collection to 
 strangers. 
 
 In spite of odd volumes, imperfections, and all the 
 other mortifications which an amateur encounters in 
 looking through an ill-kept library, there were many art- 
 icles in that of Hautlieu, calculated, as Bayes says, " to 
 elevate and surprise " the Bibliomaniac. There were, 
 
 " The small rare volume, dark with tarnish'd gold," 
 
 as Dr. Ferrier feelingly sings curious and richly 
 painted missals, manuscripts of 1380, 1320, and even 
 earlier, and works in Gothic type, printed in the fif- 
 teenth and sixteenth centuries. But of these I intend 
 
INTRODUCTION. fad 
 
 to give a more detailed account, should the Marquis 
 grant his permission. 
 
 In the meantime, it is sufficient to say, that, de- 
 lighted with the day I had spent at Hautlieu, I fre- 
 quently repeated my visit, and that the key of the 
 octangular tower was always at my command. In 
 those hours I became deeply enamoured of a part of 
 French history, which, although most important to 
 that of Europe at large, and illustrated by an inimi- 
 table old historian, I had never sufficiently studied. 
 At the same time, to gratify the feelings of my excel- 
 lent host, I occupied myself occasionally with some 
 family memorials, which had fortunatety been pre- 
 served, and which contained some curious particulars 
 respecting the connexion with Scotland, which first 
 found me favour in the eyes of the Marquis de 
 Hautlieu. 
 
 I pondered on these things, more meo, until my 
 return to Britain, to beef and sea-coal fires, a change 
 of residence which took place since I drew up these 
 Gallic reminiscences. At length, the result of my 
 meditations took the form of which my readers, if not 
 startled by this preface, will presently be enabled to 
 judge. Should the Public receive it with favour, I 
 shall not regret having been for a short time an 
 Absentee. 
 
"> 
 
 V 
 
 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 CHAPTEK I. 
 
 THE CONTRAST. 
 
 Look here upon this picture, and on this, 
 The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. 
 
 Hamlet. 
 
 The latter part of the fifteenth century prepared 
 a train of future events, that ended by raising France 
 to that state of formidable power, which has ever 
 since been, from time to time, the principal object 
 of jealousy to the other European nations. Before 
 that period, she had to struggle for her very exist- 
 ence with the English, already possessed of her 
 fairest provinces ; while the utmost exertions of her 
 King, and the gallantry of her people, could scarcely 
 protect the remainder from a foreign yoke. Nor 
 was this her sole danger. The princes who pos- 
 sessed the grand fiefs of the crown, and, in parti- 
 cular, the Dukes of Burgundy and Bretagne, had 
 come to wear their feudal bonds so lightly, that they 
 had no scruple in lifting the standard against their 
 liege and sovereign lord, the King of France, on 
 the slightest pretence, When at peace, they reigned 
 as absolute princes in their own provinces ; and the 
 House of Burgundy, possessed of the district so 
 called, together with the fairest and richest part of 
 
 VOL. I. 1 
 
2 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 Flanders, was itself so wealthy, and so powerful, aa 
 to yield nothing to the crown, either in splendour 
 or in strength. 
 
 In imitation of the grand feudatories, each infe- 
 rior vassal of the crown assumed as much indepen- 
 dence as his distance from the sovereign power, the 
 extent of his fief, or the strength of his chateau, 
 enabled him to maintain ; and these petty tyrants, 
 no longer amenable to the exercise of the law, per- 
 petrated with impunity the wildest excesses of fan- 
 tastic oppression and cruelty. In Auvergne alone, 
 a report was made of more than three hundred of 
 these independent nobles, to whom incest, murder, 
 and rapine, were the most ordinary and familiar 
 actions. 
 
 Besides these evils, another, springing out of the 
 long-continued wars betwixt the French and Eng- 
 lish, added no small misery to this distracted king- 
 dom. Numerous bodies of soldiers, collected into 
 bands, under officers chosen by themselves, from 
 among the bravest and most successful adventurers, 
 had been formed in various parts of France out of 
 the refuse of all other countries. These hireling 
 combatants sold their swords for a time to the best 
 bidder ; and, when such service was not to be had, 
 they made war on their own account, seizing castles 
 and towers, which they used as the places of their 
 retreat, making prisoners, and ransoming them, 
 exacting tribute from the open villages, and *i*e 
 country around them, and acquiring, by every 
 species of rapine, the appropriate epithets of Ton- 
 deurs and Ecorcheurs, that is, Clippers and Flayers. 
 
 In the midst of the horrors and miseries arising 
 from so distracted a state of public affairs, reckless 
 and profuse expense distinguished the courts of the 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 3 
 
 lesser nobles, as well as of the superior princes ; and 
 their dependents, in imitation, expended in rude, 
 but magnificent display, the wealth which they 
 extorted from the people. A tone of romantic and 
 chivalrous gallantry (which, however, ~was often 
 disgraced by unbounded license) characterised the 
 intercourse between the sexes ; and the language of 
 knight-errantry was yet used, and its observances 
 followed, though the pure spirit of honourable love, 
 and benevolent enterprise, which it inculcates, had 
 ceased to qualify and atone for its extravagances. 
 The jousts and tournaments, the entertainments 
 and revels, which each petty court displayed, invited 
 to France every wandering adventurer ; and it was 
 seldom that, when arrived there, he failed to 
 employ his rash courage, and headlong spirit of 
 enterprise, in actions for which his happier native 
 country afforded no free stage. 
 
 At this period, and as if to save this fair realm 
 from the various woes with which it was menaced, 
 the tottering throne was ascended by Louis XL, 
 whose character, evil as it was in itself, met, 
 combated, and in a great degree neutralized, the 
 mischiefs of the time as poisons of opposing 
 qualities are said, in ancient books of medicine, to 
 have the power of counteracting each other. 
 
 Brave enough for every useful and political 
 purpose, Louis had not a spark of that romantic 
 valour, or of the pride generally associated with it, 
 which fought on for the point of honour, when the 
 point of utility had been long gained. Calm, crafty, 
 and profoundly attentive to his own interest, he 
 made every sacrifice, both of pride and passion, 
 which could interfere with it. He was careful in 
 disguising his real sentiments and purposes from all 
 
4 QTJENTIN DURWAEB. 
 
 who approached him, and frequently used the 
 expressions, " that the king knew not how to reign, 
 who knew not how to dissemble ; and that, for him- 
 self, if he thought his very cap knew his secrets, he 
 would" tFfow it into the fire." No man of his own, 
 or of any other time, better understood how to avail 
 himself of the frailties of others, and when to avoid 
 giving any advantage by the untimely indulgence of 
 his own. 
 
 He was by nature vindictive and cruel, even to 
 the extent of finding pleasure in the frequent exe- 
 cutions which he commanded. But, as no touch of 
 mercy ever induced him to spare, when he could 
 with safety condemn, so no sentiment of vengeance 
 ever stimulated him to a premature violence. He 
 seldom sprung on his prey till it was fairly within 
 his grasp, and till all hope of rescue was vain ; 
 and his movements were so studiously disguised, 
 that his success was generally what first announced 
 to the world the object he had been manoeuvring to 
 attain. 
 
 In like manner, the avarice of Louis gave way to 
 apparent profusion, when it was necessary to bribe 
 the favourite or minister of a rival prince for avert- 
 ing any impending attack, or to break up any alliance 
 confederated against him. He was fond of license 
 and pleasure; but neither beauty nor the chase, 
 though both were ruling passions, ever withdrew 
 him from the most regular attendance to public 
 business and the affairs of his kingdom. His know- 
 ledge of mankind was profound, and he had sought 
 it in the private walks of life, in which he often 
 personally mingled ; and, though naturally proud 
 and haughty, he hesitated not, with an inattention 
 to the arbitrary divisions of society which was then 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 5 
 
 thought something portentously unnatural, to raise 
 from the lowest rank men whom he employed on 
 the most important duties, and knew so well how 
 to choose them, that he was rarely disappointed in 
 their qualities. 
 
 Yet there were contradictions in the character of 
 this artful and able monarch ; for human nature is 
 rarely uniform. Himself the most false and insin- 
 cere of mankind, some of the greatest errors of his 
 life arose from too rash a confidence in the honour 
 and integrity of others. When these errors took 
 place, they seem to have arisen from an over-refined 
 system of policy, which induced Louis to assume 
 the appearance of undoubting confidence in those 
 whorrf it was his object to overreach ; for, in his 
 general conduct, he was as jealous and suspicious 
 as any tyrant who ever breathed. 
 
 Two other points may be noticed to complete the 
 sketch of this formidable character, by which he 
 rose among the rude chivalrous sovereigns of the 
 period to the rank of a keeper among wild beasts, 
 who, by superior wisdom and policy, by distribution 
 of food, and some discipline by blows, comes finally 
 to predominate over those, who, if unsubjected by 
 his arts, would by main strength have torn him to 
 pieces. 
 
 The first of these attributes was Louis's excessive 
 superstition, a plague with which Heaven often 
 afflicts those who refuse to listen to the dictates of 
 religion. The remorse arising from his evil actions, 
 Louis never endeavoured to appease by any relaxa- 
 tion in his Machiavellian stratagems, but laboured, 
 in vain, to soothe and silence that painful feeling by 
 superstitious observances, severe penance, and pro- 
 fuse gifts to the ecclesiastics. The second property, 
 
6 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 with which the first is sometimes found strangely 
 united, was a disposition to low pleasures and ob- 
 scure debauchery. The wisest, or at least the most 
 crafty Sovereign of his time, he was fond of low 
 life, and, being himself a man of wit, enjoyed the 
 jests and repartees of social conversation more than 
 could have been expected from other points of his 
 character. He even mingled in the comic adven- 
 tures of obscure intrigue, with a freedom little con- 
 sistent with the habitual and guarded jealousy of 
 his character ; and he was so fond of this species of 
 humble gallantry, that he caused a number of its 
 gay and licentious anecdotes to be enrolled in a col- 
 lection well known to book-collectors, in whose eyes 
 (and the work is unfit for any other) the right 
 edition is very precious. 1 
 
 By means of this monarch's powerful and pru- 
 dent, though most unamiable character, it pleased 
 Heaven, who works by the tempest as well as by 
 the soft small rain, to restore to the great French 
 nation the benefits of civil government, which, at 
 the time of his accession, they had nearly lost. 
 
 Ere he succeeded to the crown, Louis had given 
 evidence of his vices rather than of his talents. His 
 first wife, Margaret of Scotland, was " done to death 
 by slanderous tongues" in her husband's Court, 
 where, but for the encouragement of Louis himself, 
 not a word would have been breathed against that 
 amiable and injured princess. He had been an un- 
 grateful and a rebellious son, at one time conspiring 
 
 1 This editio princeps which, when in good preservation, is much 
 sought after by connoisseurs, is entitled, Les Cent Nouvelles Nou- 
 velles, contenant Cent Histoires Nouveaux, qui sont moult plaisans a 
 raconter en toutes bonnes compagnies par maniere de joyeuxete. 
 Paris, Antoine Verard. Sans date d'annee d'impression ; in-folio 
 gotique. See De BuRE.(e) 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 7 
 
 to seize his father's person, and at another, levying 
 open war against him. For the first offence, he was 
 banished to his appanage of Dauphine\ which he 
 governed with much sagacity for the second, he 
 was driven into absolute exile, and forced to throw 
 himself on the mercy, and almost on the charity, of 
 the Duke of Burgundy and his son, where he en- 
 joyed hospitality, afterwards indifferently requited, 
 until the death of his father in 1461. 
 
 In the very outset of his reign, Louis was almost 
 overpowered by a league formed against him by the 
 great vassals of France, with the Duke of Burgundy, 
 or rather his son, the Countde Charalois, at its 
 head. They levied a powerM^army, blockaded 
 Paris, fought a battle of doubtful issue under its 
 very walls, and placed the French monarchy on the 
 brink of actual destruction. It usually happens in 
 such cases, that the more sagacious general of the 
 two gains the real fruit, though perhaps not the 
 martial fame of the disputed field. Louis, who had 
 shown great personal bravery during the battle of 
 Montl'hery, (/) was able, by his prudence, to avail 
 himself of its undecided character, as if it had been a 
 victory on his side. He temporized until the enemy 
 had broken up their leaguer, and showed so much 
 dexterity in sowing jealousies among those great 
 powers, that their alliance " for the public weal," 
 as they termed it, but, in reality, for the overthrow 
 of all but the external appearance of the Frencli 
 monarchy, dissolved itself, and was never again 
 renewed in a manner so formidable. From this 
 period, Louis, relieved of all danger from England, 
 by the Civil Wars of York and Lancaster, was en- 
 gaged for several years, like an unfeeling but able 
 physician, in curing the wounds of the body politic, 
 
8 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 or rather in stopping, now by gentle remedies, now 
 by the use of fire and steel, the progress of those 
 mortal gangrenes with which it was then infected. 
 The brigandage of the Free Companies, and the 
 unpunished oppressions of the nobility, he laboured 
 to lessen, since he could not actually stop them ; 
 and, by dint of unrelaxed attention, he gradually 
 gained some addition to his own regal authority, or 
 effected some diminution of those by whom it was 
 counterbalanced. 
 
 Still the King of France was surrounded by doubt 
 and danger. The members of the league " for the 
 public weal," though not in unison, were* in exist- 
 ence, and, like a scotched snake, might re-unite and 
 become dangerous again. But a worse danger was 
 the increasing power of the Duke of Burgundy, then 
 one of the greatest Princes of Europe, and little 
 diminished in rank by the very slight dependence 
 of his duchy upon the crown of France. 
 
 Charles, surnamed the Bold, or rather the Auda- 
 cious, for his courage was allied to rashness and 
 frenzy, then wore the ducal coronet of Burgundy, 
 which he burned to convert into a royal and inde- 
 pendent regal crown. The character of this Duke 
 was in every respect the direct contrast to that of 
 Louis XL 
 
 The latter was calm, deliberate, and crafty, 
 never prosecuting a desperate enterprise, and never 
 abandoning one likely to be successful, however 
 distant the prospect. The genius of the Duke was 
 entirely different He rushed on danger because 
 he loved it, and On difficulties because he despised 
 them. As Louis never sacrificed his interest to his 
 passion, so Charles, on the other hand, never sacri- 
 ficed his passion, or even his humour, to any other 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 9 
 
 consideration. Notwithstanding the near relation- 
 ship that existed between them, and the support 
 which the Duke and his father had afforded to 
 Louis in his exile when Dauphin, there was mutual 
 contempt and hatred betwixt them. The Duke of 
 Burgundy despised the cautious policy of the King, 
 and imputed to the faintness of his courage, that he 
 sought by leagues, purchases, and other indirect 
 means, those advantages, which, in his place, the 
 Duke would have snatched with an armed hand. 
 He likewise hated the King, not only for the ingrat- 
 itude he had manifested for former kindnesses, and 
 for personal injuries and imputations which the 
 ambassadors of Louis had cast upon him, when his 
 father was yet alive, but also, and especially, be- 
 cause of the support which he afforded in secret to 
 the discontented citizens of Ghent, Liege, and other 
 great towns in Flanders. These turbulent cities, 
 jealous of their privileges, and proud of their wealth, 
 were frequently in a state of insurrection against 
 their liege lords the Dukes of Burgundy, and never 
 failed to find underhand countenance at the Court of 
 Louis, who embraced every opportunity of foment- 
 ing disturbance within the dominions of his over- 
 grown vassal. 
 
 The contempt and hatred of the Duke were 
 retaliated by Louis with equal energy, though he 
 used a thicker veil to conceal his sentiments. It 
 was impossible for a man of his profound sagacity 
 not to despise the stubborn obstinacy which never 
 resigned its purpose, however fatal perseverance 
 might prove, and the headlong impetuosity, which 
 commenced its career without allowing a moment's 
 consideration for the obstacles to be encountered. 
 Yet the King hated Charles even more than he con- 
 
to QTJENTIN BURWAKD. 
 
 temned him, and his scorn and hatred were the more 
 intense, that they were mingled with fear ; for he 
 knew that the onset of the mad bull, to whom he 
 likened the Duke of Burgundy, must ever be for- 
 midable though the animal makes it with shut eyes. 
 It was not alone the wealth of the Burgundian pro- 
 vinces, the discipline of the warlike inhabitants, and 
 the mass of their crowded population, which the 
 King dreaded, for the personal qualities of their 
 leader had also much in them that was dangerous. 
 The very soul of bravery, which he pushed to the 
 verge of .rashness, and beyond it profuse in ex- 
 penditure splendid in his court, his person, and 
 his retinue, in all which he displayed the hereditary 
 magnificence of the house of Burgundy, Charles the 
 Bold drew into his service almost all the fiery spirits 
 of the age whose tempers were congenial ; and Louis 
 saw too clearly what might be attempted and exe- 
 cuted by such a train of resolute adventurers, fol- 
 lowing a leader of a character as ungovernable as 
 their own. 
 
 There was yet another circumstance which in- 
 creased the animosity of Louis towards his overgrown 
 vassal ; he owed him favours which he never meant 
 to repay, and was under the frequent necessity of tem- 
 porizing with him, and even of enduring bursts of 
 petulant insolence, injurious to the regal dignity, 
 without being able to treat him otherwise than as 
 his " fair cousin of Burgundy." 
 
 It was about the year 1468, (g ) when their feuds 
 were at the highest, though a dubious and hollow 
 truce, as frequently happened, existed for the time 
 betwixt them, that the present narrative opens. The 
 person first introduced on the stage will be found 
 indeed to be of a rank and condition, the illustration 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. n 
 
 of whose character scarcely called for a dissertation 
 on the relative position of two great princes ; but 
 the passions of the great, their quarrels, and their 
 reconciliations, involve the fortunes of all who 
 approach them; and it will be found, on proceed- 
 ing farther in our story, that this preliminary 
 Chapter is necessary for comprehending the history 
 of the individual whose adventures we are about to 
 relate. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE WANDEKER. 
 
 Why then the world is my oyster, which I with sword will 
 open. 
 
 Ancient Pistol. 
 
 It was upon a delicious summer morning, before 
 the sun had assumed its scorching power, and while 
 the dews yet cooled and perfumed the air, that a 
 youth, coming from the north-eastward, approached 
 the ford of a small river, or rather a large brook, 
 tributary to the Cher, near to the ro yal Castle of 
 Plessis-les-TourSj whose dark and multiplied battle- 
 ments rose in the background over the extensive 
 forest with which they were surrounded. These 
 woodlands comprised a noble chase, or royal park, 
 fenced by an enclosure, termed, in the Latin of the 
 middle ages, Plexitium, which gives the name of 
 Plessis to so many villages in France. The castle 
 and village of which we particularly speak, was 
 called Plessis-les-Tours, to distinguish it from 
 others, and was built about two miles to the south- 
 ward of the fair town of that name, the capital of 
 ancient Touraine, whose rich plain has been termed 
 the Garden of France. 
 
 On the bank of the above-mentioned brook, oppo- 
 site to that which the traveller was approaching, 
 two men, who appeared in deep conversation, seemed, 
 from time to time, to watch his motions ; for, as 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 13 
 
 their station was much more elevated, they could 
 remark him at considerable distance. 
 
 The age of the young traveller might be about 
 nineteen, or betwixt that and twenty, and his face 
 and person, which were very prepossessing, did not, 
 however, belong to the country in which he was now 
 a sojourner. His short grey cloak and hose were 
 rather of Flemish than of French fashion, while 
 the smart blue bonnet, with a single sprig of holly 
 and an eagle's feather, was already recognised as 
 the Scottish head-gear. His dress was very neat, 
 and arranged with the precision of a youth conscious 
 of possessing a fine person. He had at his back a 
 satchel, which seemed to contain a few necessaries, 
 a hawking gauntlet on his left hand, though he 
 carried no bird, and in his right a stout hunter's 
 pole. Over his left shoulder hung an embroidered 
 scarf which sustained a small pouch of scarlet velvet, 
 such as was then used by fowlers of distinction to 
 carry their hawks' food, and other matters belong- 
 ing to that much admired sport. This was crossed 
 by another shoulder-belt, to which was hung a hunt- 
 ing knife, or couteau de chasse. Instead of the 
 boots of the period, he wore buskins of half-dressed 
 deer's-skin. 
 
 Although his form had not yet attained its full 
 strength, he was tall and active, and the lightness 
 of the step with which he advanced, showed that his 
 pedestrian mode of travelling was pleasure rather 
 than pain to him. His complexion was fair, in spite 
 of a general shade of darker hue, with which the 
 foreign sun, or perhaps constant exposure to the 
 atmosphere in his own country, had, in some degree, 
 embrowned it. 
 
 His features, . without being quite regular, . were 
 
H QUENTIN DURWARD 
 
 frank, open, and pleasing. A half smile, which 
 seemed to arise from a happy exuberance of animal 
 spirits, showed, now and then, that his teeth were 
 well set, and as pure as ivory ; whilst his bright 
 blue eye, with a corresponding gaiety, had an appro- 
 priate glance for every object which it encountered, 
 expressing good-humour, lightness of heart, and 
 determined resolution. 
 
 He received and returned the salutation of the 
 few travellers who frequented the road in those 
 dangerous times, with the action which suited each. 
 The strolling spearman, half soldier, half brigand, 
 measured the youth with his eye, as if balancing 
 the prospect of booty with the chance of desperate 
 resistance ; and read such indications of the latter 
 in the fearless glance of the passenger, that he 
 changed his ruffian purpose for a surly "Good 
 morrow, comrade," which the young Scot answered 
 with as martial, though a less sullen tone. The 
 wandering pilgrim, or the begging friar, answered 
 his reverend greeting with a paternal benedicite ; 
 and the dark-eyed peasant girl looked after him for 
 many a step after they had passed each other, and 
 interchanged a laughing good-morrow. In short, 
 there was an attraction about his whole appearance 
 not easily escaping attention, and which was derived 
 from the combination of fearless frankness and good- 
 humour, with sprightly looks, and a handsome face 
 and person. It seemed, too, as if his whole demean- 
 our bespoke one who was entering on life with no 
 apprehension of the evils with which it is beset, 
 and small means for struggling with its hardships, 
 except a lively spirit and a courageous disposition ; 
 and it is with such tempers that youth most readily 
 sympathizes, and for whom chiefly age and expe- 
 rience feel affectionate and pitying interest 
 
QUENTIN DURWAKD. 15 
 
 The youth whom we have described, had been 
 long visible to the two persons who loitered on the 
 opposite side of the small river which divided him 
 from the park and the castle ; but as he descended 
 the rugged bank to the water's edge, with the light 
 step of a roe which visits the fountain, the younger 
 of the two said to the other, " It is our man it is 
 the Bohemian ! If he attempts to cross the ford, he 
 is a lost man the water is up, and the ford 
 impassable." 
 
 "Let him make that discovery himself, gossip," 
 said the elder personage ; " it may, perchance, save 
 a rope, and break a proverb." 
 
 "I judge him by the blue cap," said the other, 
 " for I cannot see his face. Hark, sir he hallooes 
 to know whether the water be deep." 
 
 " Nothing like experience in this world," answered 
 the other " let him try." 
 
 The young man, in the meanwhile, receiving no 
 hint to the contrary, and taking the silence of those 
 to whom he applied as an encouragement to pro- 
 ceed, entered the stream without farther hesitation 
 than the delay necessary to take off his buskins. 
 The elder person, at the same moment, hallooed to 
 him to beware, adding, in a lower tone, to his com- 
 panion, " Mortdieu gossip you have made another 
 mistake this is not the Bohemian chatterer." 
 
 But the intimation to the youth came too late. 
 He either did not hear or could not profit by it, 
 being already in the deep stream. To one less alert, 
 and practised in the exercise of swimming, death 
 had been certain, for the brook was both deep and 
 strong. 
 
 "By Saint Anne! but he is a proper youth," 
 said the elder man " Eun, gossip, and help your 
 
16 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 blunder, by giving him aid, if thou canst. He be^ 
 longs to thine own troop if old saws speak truth, 
 water will not drown him." 
 
 Indeed, the young traveller swam so strongly, 
 and buffeted the waves so well, that, notwithstand- 
 ing the strength of the current, he was carried but 
 a little way down from the ordinary landing-place. 
 
 By this time the younger of the two strangers 
 was hurrying down to the shore to render assist- 
 ance, while the other followed him at a graver pace, 
 saying to himself as he approached, " I knew water 
 would never drown that young fellow. By my 
 halidome, he is ashore, and grasps his pole! If I 
 make not the more haste, he will beat my gossip 
 for the only charitable action which I ever saw him 
 perform, or attempt to perform, in the whole course 
 of his life." 
 
 There was some reason to augur such a conclusion 
 of the adventure, for the bonny Scot had already 
 accosted the younger Samaritan, who was hastening 
 to his assistance, with these ireful words " Dis- 
 courteous dog! why did you not answer when I 
 called to know if the. passage was fit to be at- 
 tempted ? May the foul fiend catch me, but I will 
 teach you the respect due to strangers on the next 
 occasion ! " 
 
 This was accompanied with that significant flour- 
 ish with his pole which is called le moulinet, because 
 the artist, holding it in the middle, brandishes the 
 two ends in every direction, like the sails of a wind- 
 mill in motion. His opponent, seeing himself thus 
 menaced, laid hand upon his sword, for he was one 
 of those who on all occasions are more ready for 
 action than for speech ; but his more considerate 
 comrade, who came up, commanded him to forbear, 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 17 
 
 and, turning to the young man, accused him in turn 
 of precipitation in plunging into the swollen ford, 
 and of intemperate violence in quarrelling with a 
 man who was hastening to his assistance. 
 
 The young man, on hearing himself thus reproved 
 by a man of advanced age and respectable appear- 
 ance, immediately lowered his weapon, and said he 
 would be sorry if he had done them injustice ; but, 
 in reality, it appeared to him as if they had suffered 
 him to put his life in peril for want of a word of 
 timely warning, which could be the part neither 
 of honest men nor of good Christians, far less of 
 respectable burgesses, such as they seemed to be. 
 
 "Fair son," said the elder person, "you seem, 
 from your accent and complexion, a stranger ; and 
 you should recollect your dialect is not so easily 
 comprehended by us, as perhaps it may be uttered 
 by you." 
 
 " Well, father," answered the youth, " I do not 
 care much about the ducking I have had, and I will 
 readily forgive your being partly the cause, pro- 
 vided you will direct me to some place where I can 
 have my clothes dried ; for it is my only suit, and 
 I must keep it somewhat decent." 
 
 " For whom do you take us, fair son ? " said the 
 elder stranger, in answer to this question. 
 
 " For substantial burgesses, unquestionably," said 
 the youth ; " or, hold you, master, may be a money- 
 broker, or a corn-merchant ; and this man a butcher, 
 or grazier." 
 
 " You have hit our capacities rarely," said the 
 elder, smiling. " My business is indeed to trade 
 in as much money as I can ; and my gossip's deal- 
 ings are somewhat of kin to the butcher's. As to 
 your accommodation, we will try to serve you ; but 
 
 VOL. I. 2 
 
18 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 I must first know who you are, and whither you are 
 going ; for, in these times, the roads are rilled with 
 travellers on foot and horseback, who have any thing 
 in their head but honesty and the fear of God." 
 
 The young man cast another keen and penetrat- 
 ing glance on him who spoke, and on his silent 
 companion, as if doubtful whether they, on their 
 part, merited the confidence they demanded ; and 
 the result of his observation was as follows. 
 
 The eldest, and most remarkable of these men, 
 in dress and appearance resembled the merchant 
 or shopkeeper of the period. His jerkin, hose, and 
 cloak, were of a dark uniform colour, but worn so 
 threadbare, that the acute young Scot conceived 
 that the wearer must be either very rich or very 
 poor, probably the former. The fashion of the dress 
 was close and short a kind of garments which 
 were not then held decorous among gentry, or even 
 the superior class of citizens, who generally wore 
 loose gowns which descended below the middle of 
 the leg. 
 
 The expression of this man's countenance was 
 partly attractive, and partly forbidding. His strong 
 features, sunk cheeks, and hollow eyes, had, never- 
 theless, an expression of shrewdness and humour 
 congenial to the character of the young adventurer. 
 But then, those same sunken eyes, from under the 
 shroud of thick black eyebrows, had something in 
 them that was at once commanding and sinister. 
 Perhaps this effect was increased by the low fur 
 cap, much depressed on the forehead, and adding 
 to the shade from under which those eyes peered 
 out ; but it is certain that the young stranger had 
 some difficulty to reconcile his looks with the mean- 
 ness of his appearance in other respects. His cap 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 19 
 
 In particular,(/t) in which all men of any quality 
 displayed either a brooch of gold or of silver, was 
 ornamented with a paltry image of the Virgin, in 
 lead, such as the poorer sort of pilgrims bring from 
 Loretto. 
 
 His comrade was a stout-formed, middle-sized 
 man, more than ten years younger than his com- 
 panion, with a down-looking visage, and a very 
 ominous smile, when by chance he gave way to that 
 impulse, which was never, except in reply to certain 
 secret signs that seemed to pass between him and 
 the elder stranger. This man was armed with a 
 sword and dagger ; and, underneath his plain habit, 
 the Scotsman observed that he concealed a jazeran, 
 or flexible shirt of linked mail, which, as being often 
 worn by those, even of peaceful professions, who 
 were called upon at that perilous period to be fre- 
 quently abroad, confirmed the young man in his 
 conjecture, that the wearer was by profession a 
 butcher, grazier, or something of that description, 
 called upon to be much abroad. 
 
 The young stranger, comprehending in one glance 
 the result of the observation which has taken us 
 some time to express, answered, after a moment's 
 pause, " I am ignorant whom I may have the hon- 
 our to address," making a slight reverence at the 
 same time, " but I am indifferent who knows that 
 I am a cadet of Scotland ; and that I come to seek 
 my fortune in France, or elsewhere, after the cus- 
 tom of my countrymen." 
 
 " Pasques-dieu ! and a gallant custom it is," said 
 the elder stranger. " You seem a fine young spring- 
 aid, and at the right age to prosper, whether among 
 men or women. What say you ? I am a merchant, 
 and want a lad to assist in my traffic I suppose 
 
20 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 you are too much a gentleman to assist in such me- 
 chanical drudgery ? " 
 
 "Fair sir," said the youth, "if your offer be 
 seriously made of which I have my doubts 1 
 am bound to thank you for it, and I thank you ac- 
 cordingly; but I fear I should be altogether unfit 
 for your service." 
 
 " What ! " said the senior, " I warrant thou know- 
 est better how to draw the bow, than how to draw 
 a bill of charges, canst handle a broadsword bet- 
 ter than a pen ha ! " 
 
 " I am, master," answered the young Scot, " a 
 braeman, and therefore, as we say, a bowman. But 
 besides that, I have been in a convent, where the 
 good fathers taught me to read and write, and even 
 to cipher." 
 
 " Pasques-dieu ! that is too magnificent," said the 
 merchant. "By our Lady of Embrun, thou art a 
 prodigy, man ! " 
 
 " Eest you merry, fair master," said the youth, 
 who was not much pleased with his new acquaint- 
 ance's jocularity, " I must go dry myself, instead of 
 standing dripping here, answering questions." 
 
 The merchant only laughed louder as he spoke, 
 and answered, " Pasques-dieu ! the proverb never 
 fails fier comme un Ecossois but come, young- 
 ster, you are of a country I have a regard for, hav- 
 ing traded m Scotland in my time an honest poor 
 set of folks they are ; and, if you will come with us 
 to the village, I will bestow on you a cup of burnt 
 sack and a warm breakfast, to atone for your drench- 
 ing. But, tete-hleau ! what do you with a hunt- 
 ing-glove on your hand ? Know you not there is 
 no hawking permitted in a royal chase ? " 
 
 " I was taught that lesson," answered the youth, 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 21 
 
 by a rascally forester of the Duke of Burgundy. 
 I did but fly the falcon I had brought with me from 
 Scotland, and that I reckoned on for bringing me 
 into some note, at a heron near Peronne, and the 
 rascally schelm shot my bird with an arrow." 
 
 " What did you do ? " said the merchant. 
 
 " Beat him," said the youngster, brandishing his 
 staff, " as near to death as one Christian man should 
 belabour another I wanted not to have his olood 
 to answer for." 
 
 " Know you," said the burgess, " that had you 
 fallen into the Duke of Burgundy's hands, he would 
 have hung you up like a chestnut ? " 
 
 " Ay, I am told he is as prompt as the King of 
 France for that sort of work. But, as this happened 
 near Peronne, I made a leap over the frontiers, and 
 laughed at him. If he had not been so hasty, I 
 might perhaps have taken service with him." 
 
 " He will have a heavy miss of such a paladin 
 as you are, if the truce should break off," said the 
 merchant, and threw a look at his own companion, 
 who answered him with one of the downcast lower- 
 ing smiles, which gleamed along his countenance, 
 enlivening it as a passing meteor enlivens a winter 
 sky. 
 
 The young Scot suddenly stopped, pulled his 
 bonnet over his right eyebrow, as one that would 
 not be ridiculed, and said firmly, " My masters, 
 and especially you, sir, the elder, and who should 
 be the wiser, you will find, I presume, no sound or 
 safe jesting at my expense. I do not altogether 
 like the tone of your conversation. I can take a 
 jest with any man, and a rebuke, too, from my elder, 
 and say thank you, sir, if I know it to be deserved ; 
 but I do not like being borne in hand as if I were 
 
22 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 a child, when, God wot, I find myself man enough 
 to belabour you both, if you provoke me too far." 
 
 The eldest man seemed like to choke with laugh- 
 ter at the lad's demeanour his companion's hand 
 stole to his sword-hilt, which the youth observing, 
 dealt him a blow across the wrist, which made him 
 incapable of grasping it ; while his companion's 
 mirth was only increased by the incident. " Hold, 
 hold*," he cried, " most doughty Scot, even for thine 
 own dear country's sake ; and you, gossip, forbear 
 your menacing look. Pasques-dieu ! let us be just 
 traders, and set off the wetting against the knock 
 on the wrist, which was given with so much grace 
 and alacrity. And hark ye, my young friend," he 
 said to the young man with a grave sternness, which, 
 in spite of all the youth could do, damped and over- 
 awed him, " no more violence. I am no fit object 
 for it, and my gossip, as you may see, has had 
 enough of it. Let me know your name." 
 
 " I can answer a civil question civilly," said the 
 youth; "and will pay fitting respect to your age, 
 if you do not urge my patience with mockery. 
 Since I have been here in France and Flanders, men 
 have called me, in their fantasy, the Varlet with the 
 Velvet Pouch, because of this hawk purse which I 
 carry by my side ; but my true name, when at 
 home, is Quentin Durward." 
 
 " Durward ! " said the querist ; " is it a gentle- 
 man's name ? " 
 
 "By fifteen descents in our family," said the 
 young man ; " and that makes me reluctant to fol- 
 low any other trade than arms." 
 
 " A true Scot ! Plenty of blood, plenty of pride, 
 and right great scarcity of ducats, I warrant thee. - 
 Well, gossip," he said to his companion, " go before 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 23 
 
 as, and tell them to have some breakfast ready yon- 
 der at the Mulberry -grove ; for this youth will do 
 as much honour to it as a starved mouse to a house- 
 wife's cheese. And for the Bohemian hark in 
 thy ear " 
 
 His comrade answered by a gloomy, but intelli- 
 gent smile, and set forward at a round pace, while 
 the elder man continued, addressing young Dur- 
 ward, " You and I will walk leisurely forward 
 together, and we may take a mass at Saint Hubert's 
 Chapel in our way through the forest ; for it is not 
 good to think of our fleshly before our spiritual 
 wants." 
 
 Durward, as a good Catholic, had nothing to 
 object against this proposal, although he might pro- 
 bably have been desirous, in the first place, to have 
 dried his clothes and refreshed himself. Meanwhile, 
 they soon lost sight of their downward-looking com- 
 panion, but continued to follow the same path which 
 he had taken, until it led them into a wood of tall 
 trees, mixed with thickets and brushwood, tra- 
 versed by long avenues, through which were seen, 
 as through a vista, the deer trotting in little herds 
 with a degree of security which argued their con- 
 sciousness of being completely protected. 
 
 " You asked me if I were a good bowman," said 
 the young Scot " Give me a bow and a brace of 
 shafts, and you shall have a piece of venison in a 
 moment." 
 
 " Pasques-dieu ! my young friend," said his com- 
 panion, " take care of that ; my gossip yonder hath 
 a special eye to the deer ; they are under his charge, 
 and he is a strict keeper." 
 
 " He hath more the air of a butcher, than of a 
 gay forester," answered Durward. " I cannot think 
 
24 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 yon hang-dog look of his belongs to any one who 
 knows the gentle rules of woodcraft." 
 
 " Ah, my young friend," answered his companion, 
 " my gossip hath somewhat an ugly favour to 
 look upon at the first ; but those who become 
 acquainted with him, never are known to complain 
 of him." 
 
 Quentin Durward found something singularly 
 and disagreeably significant in the tone with which 
 this was spoken; and, looking suddenly at the 
 speaker, thought he saw in his countenance, in the 
 slight smile that curled his upper lip, and the ac- 
 companying twinkle of his keen dark eye, some- 
 thing to justify his unpleasing surprise. " I have 
 heard of robbers," he thought to himself, " and of 
 wily cheats and cut-throats what if yonder fellow 
 be a murderer, and this old rascal his decoy-duck ? 
 I will be on my guard they will get little by me 
 but good Scottish knocks." 
 
 While he was thus reflecting they came to a glade, 
 where the large forest trees were more widely sep- 
 arated from each other, and where the ground be- 
 neath, cleared of underwood and bushes, was clothed 
 with a carpet of the softest and most lovely verdure, 
 which, screened from the scorching heat of the sun, 
 was here more beautifully tender than it is usually 
 to be seen in France. The trees in this secluded 
 spot were chiefly beeches and elms of huge magni- 
 tude, which rose like great hills of leaves into the 
 air. Amidst these magnificent sons of the earth, 
 there peeped out, in the most open spot of the glade, 
 a lowly chapel, near which trickled a small rivulet. 
 Its architecture was of the rudest and most simple 
 kind ; and there was a very small lodge beside it, 
 for the accommodation of a hermit or solitary priest, 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 2; 
 
 who remained there for regularly discharging the 
 duty of the altar. In a small niche, over the arched 
 doorway, stood a stone image of Saint Hubert, with 
 the bugle-horn around his neck, and a leash of grey- 
 hounds at his feet. The situation of the chapel in 
 the midst of a park or chase, so richly stocked with 
 game, made the dedication to the Sainted Huntsman 
 peculiarly appropriate. 1 
 
 Towards this little devotional structure the old 
 man directed his steps, followed by young Durward ; 
 and, as they approached, the priest, dressed in his 
 sacerdotal garments, made his appearance, in the 
 act of proceeding from his cell to the chapel, for the 
 discharge, doubtless, of his holy office. Durward 
 bowed his body reverently to the priest, as the 
 respect due to his sacred office demanded ; whilst his 
 companion, with an appearance of still more deep 
 devotion, kneeled on one knee to receive the holy 
 man's blessing, and then followed him into church, 
 with a . step and manner expressive of the most 
 heartfelt contrition and humility. 
 
 1 Every vocation had, in the middle ages, its protecting saint. 
 The chase, with its fortunes and its hazards, the business of so 
 many, and the amusement of all, was placed under the direction of 
 ; ^Saint Hubert. 
 
 This silvan saint was the son of Bertrand, Duke of Acqui- 
 taine, and, while in the secular state, was a courtier of King 
 Pepin. He was passionately fond of the chase, and used to 
 neglect attendance on divine worship for this amusement. 
 While he was once engaged in this pastime, a stag appeared 
 before him, having a crucifix bound betwixt his horns, and he 
 heard a voice which menaced him with eternal punishment if. 
 he did not repent of his sins. He retired from the world and 
 took orders, his wife having also retreated into the cloister. 
 Hubert afterwards became Bishop of Maestrecht and Liege; 
 and from his zeal in destroying remnants of idolatry, is called, 
 the Apostle of Ardennes and of Brabant. Those who wefe 
 descended of his race were supposed to possess the power (frwetfr 
 ing persons bitten by mad dogs. 
 
26 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 The inside of the chapel was adorned in a man- 
 ner adapted to the occupation of the patron-saint 
 while on earth. The richest furs of such animals as 
 are made the objects of the chase in different coun- 
 tries, supplied the place of tapestry and hangings 
 around the altar and elsewhere, and the character- 
 istic emblazonments of bugles, bows, quivers, and 
 other emblems of hunting, surrounded the walls, and 
 were mingled with the heads of deer, wolves, and 
 other animals considered beasts of sport. The whole 
 adornments took an appropriate and silvan character; 
 and the mass itself, being considerably- shortened, 
 proved to be of that sort which is called a hunting- 
 mass, because in use before the noble and powerful, 
 who, while assisting at the solemnity, are usually 
 impatient to commence their favourite sport. 
 
 Yet, during this brief ceremony, Dur ward's com- 
 panion seemed to pay the most rigid and scrupulous 
 attention ; while Dur ward, not quite so much occu- 
 pied with religious thoughts, could not forbear 
 blaming himself in his own mind, for having enter- 
 tained suspicions derogatory to the character of so 
 good and so humble a man. Far from now holding 
 him as a companion and accomplice of robbers, he 
 had much to do to forbear regarding him as a saint- 
 like personage. 
 
 When mass was ended, they retired together 
 from the chapel, and the elder said to his young 
 comrade, " It is but a short walk from hence to 
 the village you may now break your fast with an 
 unprejudiced conscience follow me." 
 
 Turning to the right, and proceeding along a 
 path which seemed gradually to ascend, he recom- 
 mended to his companion by no means to quit the 
 track, but, on the contrary, to keep the middle of 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 27 
 
 it as nearly as he could. Durward could not help 
 asking the cause of this precaution. 
 
 " You are now near the Court, young man," 
 answered his guide ; " and, Pasques-dieu ! there is 
 some difference betwixt walking in this region and 
 on your own heathy hills. Every yard of this 
 ground, excepting the path which we now occupy, is 
 rendered dangerous, and wellnigh impracticable, by 
 snares and traps, armed with scythe-blades, which 
 shred off the unwary passenger's limb as sheerly as 
 a hedge-bill lops a hawthorn-sprig and calthrops 
 that would pierce your foot through, and pit-falls 
 deep enough to bury you in them for ever ; for you 
 are now within the precincts of the royal demesne, 
 and we shall presently seethe front of the Chateau." 
 
 "Were I the King of France," said the young 
 man, " I would not take so much trouble with traps 
 and gins, but would try instead to govern so well, 
 that no man should dare to come near my dwelling 
 with a bad intent ; and for those who came there in 
 peace and good-will, why, the more of them the 
 merrier we should be." 
 
 His companion looked round affecting an alarmed 
 gaze, and said, " Hush, hush, Sir Varlet with the 
 Velvet Pouch ! for I forgot to tell you, that one 
 great danger of these precincts is, that the very 
 leaves of the trees are like so many ears, which 
 carry all which is spoken to the King's own cabinet." 
 
 " I care little for that," answered Quentin Dur- 
 ward ; " I bear a Scottish tongue in my head, bold 
 enough to speak my mind to King Louis's face, 
 God bless him and, for the ears you talk of, if I 
 could see them growing on a human head, I would 
 crop them out of it with my wood-knife." 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE CASTLE. 
 
 Full in the midst a mighty pile arose, 
 Where iron-grated gates their strength oppose 
 To each invading step and, strong and steep, 
 The battled walls arose, the fosse sunk deep. 
 Slow round the fortress roll'd the sluggish stream, 
 And high in middle air the warder's turrets gleam. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 While Durward and his new acquaintance thus 
 spoke, they came in sight of the whole front of the 
 Castle of Plessis-les-Tours, which, even in those 
 dangerous times, when the great found themselves 
 obliged to reside within places of fortified strength, 
 was distinguished for the extreme and jealous care 
 With which it was watched and defended. 
 
 From the verge of the wood where young Dur- 
 ward halted with his companion, in order to take a 
 view of this royal residence, extended, or rather 
 arose, though by a very gentle elevation, an open 
 esplanade, devoid of trees and bushes of every de- 
 scription, excepting one gigantic and half-withered 
 old oak. This space was left open, according to the 
 rules of fortification in all ages, in order that an 
 enemy might not approach the walls under cover, 
 or unobserved from the battlements, and beyond it 
 arose the Castle itself. 
 
 There were three external walls, battlemented 
 and turreted from space to space, and at each angle. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 29 
 
 the.second enclosure rising higher than the first, and 
 being built so as to command the exterior defence 
 in case it was won by the enemy ; and being again, 
 in the same manner, itself commanded by the third 
 and innermost barrier. Around the external wall, 
 as the Frenchman informed his young companion, 
 (for, as they stood lower than the foundation of the 
 wall, he could not see it,) was sunk a ditch of about 
 twenty feet in depth, supplied with water by a dam- 
 head on the river Cher, or rather on one of its 
 tributary branches. In front of the second enclo- 
 sure, he said, there ran another fosse, and a third, 
 both of the same unusual dimensions, was led be- 
 tween the second and the innermost enclosure. The 
 verge, both of the outer and inner circuit of this 
 triple moat, was strongly fenced with palisades of 
 iron, serving the purpose of what are called chevaux- 
 de-frise in modern fortification, the top of each pale 
 being divided into a cluster of sharp spikes, which 
 seemed to render any attempt to climb over an act 
 of self-destruction. 
 
 From within the innermost enclosure arose the 
 Castle itself, containing buildings of different pe- 
 riods, crowded around, and united with the ancient 
 and grim-looking donjon-keep, which was older 
 than any of them, and which rose, like a black 
 Ethiopian giant, high into the air, while the absence 
 of any windows larger than shot-holes, irregularly 
 disposed for defence, gave the spectator the same 
 unpleasant feeling which we experience on looking 
 at a blind man. The other buildings seemed scarcely 
 better adapted for the purposes of comfort, for 
 the windows opened to an inner and enclosed court- 
 yard ; so that the whole external front looked 
 much more like that of a prison than a palace. The 
 
30 QTJENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 reigning King had even increased this effect; for, 
 desirous that the additions which he himself had 
 made to the fortifications should be of a character 
 not easily distinguished from the original building, 
 (for like many jealous persons, he loved not that 
 his suspicions should be observed,) the darkest-col- 
 oured brick and freestone were employed, and soot 
 mingled with the lime, so as to give the whole 
 Castle the same uniform tinge of extreme and rude 
 antiquity. 
 
 This formidable place had but one entrance, at 
 least Durward saw none along the spacious front, 
 except where, in the centre of the first and outward 
 boundary, arose two strong towers, the usual de- 
 fences of a gateway ; and he could observe their 
 ordinary accompaniments, portcullis and drawbridge 
 of which the first was lowered, and the last raised. 
 Similar entrance-towers were visible on the second 
 and third bounding wall, but not in the same line 
 with those on the outward circuit; because the 
 passage did not cut right through the whole three 
 enclosures at the same point, but, on the contrary, 
 those who entered had to proceed nearly thirty yards 
 betwixt the first and second wall, exposed, if their 
 purpose were hostile, to missiles from both ; and 
 again, when the second boundary was passed, they 
 must make a similar digression from the straight 
 line, in order to attain the portal of the third and 
 innermost enclosure ; so that before gaining the outer 
 court, which ran along the front of the building, 
 two narrow and dangerous defiles were to be tra- 
 versed under a flanking discharge of artillery, and 
 three gates, defended in the strongest manner known 
 to the age, were to be successively forced. 
 
 Coming from a country alike desolated by foreign 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 31 
 
 war and internal feuds, a country, too, whose 
 unequal and mountainous surface, abounding in pre- 
 cipices and torrents, affords so many situations of 
 strength, young Durward was sufficiently ac- 
 quainted with all the various contrivances by which 
 men, in that stern age, endeavoured to secure their 
 dwellings ; but he frankly owned to his companion, 
 that he did not think it had been in the power of 
 art to do so much for defence, where nature had 
 done so little ; for the situation, as we have hinted, 
 was merely the summit of a gentle elevation as- 
 scending upwards from the place where they were 
 standing. 
 
 To enhance his surprise, his companion told him 
 that the environs of the Castle, except the single 
 winding-path by which the portal might be safely 
 approached, were, like the thickets through which 
 they had passed, surrounded with every species of 
 hidden pit-fall, snare, and gin, to entrap the wretch 
 who should venture thither without a guide ; that 
 upon the walls were constructed certain cradles of 
 iron, called swallows' nests, from which the sentinels, 
 who were regularly posted there, could, without 
 being exposed to any risk, take deliberate aim at 
 any who should attempt to enter without the proper 
 signal or pass -word of the day ; and that the Archers 
 of the Royal Guard performed that duty day and 
 night, for which they received high pay, rich cloth- 
 ing, and much honour and profit at the hands of 
 King Louis. " And now tell me, young man," he 
 continued, " did you ever see so strong a fortress, 
 and do you think there are men bold enough to 
 storm it ? " 
 
 The young man looked long and fixedly on the 
 place, the sight of which interested him so much, 
 
Y 
 
 32 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 that he had forgotten, in the eagerness of youthful 
 curiosity, the wetness of his dress. His eye glanced, 
 and his colour mounted to his cheek like that of a 
 daring man who meditates an honourable action, 
 as he replied, "It is a strong castle, and strongly 
 guarded ; but there is no impossibility to brave 
 men." 
 
 "Are there any in your country who could do 
 such a feat ? " said the elder, rather scornfully. 
 
 " I will not affirm that," answered the youth ; 
 " but there are thousands that, in a good cause, 
 would attempt as bold a deed." 
 
 " Umph ! " said the senior, " perhaps you are 
 yourself such a gallant ? " 
 
 v " I should sin if T were to boast where there is 
 no danger," answered young Durward ; " but my 
 father has done as bold an act, and I trust I am no 
 bastard." 
 
 " Well," said his companion, smiling, " you might 
 meet your match, and your kindred withal in the 
 attempt ; for the Scottish Archers of King Louis's 
 Life-guards stand sentinels on yonder walls three 
 hundred gentlemen of the best blood in your 
 country." 
 
 "And were I King Louis," said the youth, in 
 reply, " I would trust my safety to the faith of the 
 three hundred Scottish gentlemen, throw down my 
 bounding walls to fill up the moat, call in my noble 
 peers and paladins, and live as became me, amid 
 breaking of lances in gallant tournaments, and feast- 
 ing of days with nobles, and dancing of nights with 
 ladies, and have no more fear of a foe than I have 
 of a fly." 
 
 His companion again smiled, and turning his 
 back on the Castle, which, he observed, they had 
 
QUENTIN DURWABD. 33 
 
 approached a little too nearly, he led the way again 
 into the wood, by a more broad and beaten path 
 than they had yet trodden. " This," he said, " leads 
 us to the village of Plessis, as it is called, where 
 you, as a stranger, will find reasonable and honest 
 accommodation. About two miles onward lies the 
 fine city of Tours, which gives name to this rich 
 and beautiful earldom. But the village of Plessis, 
 or Plessis of the Park, as it is sometimes called, 
 from its vicinity to the royal residence, and the 
 chase with which it is encircled, will yield you 
 nearer, and as convenient hospitality." 
 
 " I thank you, kind master, for your informa- 
 tion," said the Scot ; " but my stay will be so short 
 here, that if I fail not in a morsel of meat, and a 
 drink of something better than water, my necessi- 
 ties in Plessis, be it of the park or the pool, will be 
 amply satisfied." 
 
 " Nay," answered his companion, " I thought you 
 had some friend to see in this quarter." 
 
 " And so I have my mother's own brother," 
 answered Durward ; " and as pretty a man, before 
 he left the braes of Angus, as ever planted brogue 
 on heather." 
 
 " What is his name ? " said the senior ; " we will 
 enquire him out for you ; for it is not safe for you 
 to go up to the Castle, where you might be taken 
 for a spy." 
 
 " Now, by my father's hand ! " said the youth, 
 " I taken for a spy ! By Heaven, he shall brook 
 cold iron that brands me with such a charge ! 
 But for my uncle's name, I care not who knows 
 it it is Lesly. Lesly an honest and noble 
 name." 
 
 " And so it is, I doubt not," said the old man 
 
 VOL. I. 3 
 
34 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 " but there are three of the name in the Scottish 
 Guard." 
 
 "My uncle's name is Ludovic Lesly," said the 
 young man. 
 
 " Of the three Leslies," answered the merchant, 
 " two are called Ludovic." 
 
 " They call my kinsman Ludovic with the Scar," 
 said Quentin. "Our family names are so common 
 in a Scottish house, that where there is no land in 
 the case, we always give a to-name" 
 
 " A nom de guerre, I suppose you to mean," an- 
 swered his companion ; " and the man you speak 
 of, we, I think, call Le Bala/re*, from that scar on 
 his face a proper man and a good soldier. I wish 
 I may be able to help you to an interview with him, 
 for he belongs to a set of gentlemen whose duty is 
 strict, and who do not often come out of garrison, 
 unless in the immediate attendance on the King's 
 person. And now, young man, answer me one 
 question. I will wager you are desirous to take 
 service with your uncle in the Scottish Guard. It 
 is a great thing, if you propose so; especially as 
 you are very young, and some years' experience is 
 necessary for the high office which you aim at." 
 
 "Perhaps I may have thought on some such 
 thing," said Durward, carelessly; "but if I did, 
 the fancy is off." 
 
 " How so, young man ? " said the Frenchman, 
 something sternly " Do you speak thus of a charge 
 which the most noble of your countrymen feel 
 themselves emulous to be admitted to ? " 
 
 " I wish them joy of it," said Quentin, compos- 
 edly. " To speak plain, I should have liked the 
 service of the French King full well ; only, dress 
 me as fine, and feed me as high as you will, I love 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 35 
 
 the open air better than being shut up in a cage or 
 a swallow's nest yonder, as you call these same 
 grated pepper-boxes. Besides," he added, in a 
 lower voice, " to speak truth, I love not the Castle 
 when the covin-tree 1 (i) bears such acorns as I see 
 yonder." 
 
 " I guess what you mean," said the Frenchman ; 
 u but speak yet more plainly." 
 
 "To speak more plainly, then," said the youth, 
 " there grows a fair oak some flight-shot or so from 
 yonder Castle and on that oak hangs a man in a 
 grey jerkin, such as this which I wear." 
 
 " Ay and indeed ! " said the man of France 
 " Pasques-dieu ! see what it is to have youthful eyes ! 
 Why, I did see something, but only took it for a 
 raven among the branches. But the sight is no way 
 strange, young man ; when the summer fades into 
 autumn, and moonlight nights are long, and roads 
 become unsafe, you will see a cluster of ten, ay of 
 twenty such acorns, hanging on that old doddered 
 oak. But what then ? they are so many banners 
 displayed to scare knaves ; and for each rogue that 
 hangs there, an honest man may reckon that there 
 is a thief, a traitor, a robber on the highway, a 
 pilleur and oppressor of the people, the fewer in 
 France. These, young man, are signs of our Sove- 
 reign's justice." 
 
 " I would have hung them farther from my palace, 
 though, were I King Louis," saijl the youth. " In 
 my country, we hang up dead corbies where living 
 corbies haunt, but not in our gardens or pigeon- 
 
 1 The large tree in front of a Scottish castle, was sometimes 
 called so. It is difficult to trace the derivation ; but at that dis- 
 tance from the castle, the laird received guests of rank, and 
 thither he convoyed them on their departure. 
 
36 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 houses. The very scent of the carrion faugh 
 reached my nostrils at the distance where we 
 stood." 
 
 " If you live to be an honest and loyal servant 
 of your Prince, my good youth," answered the 
 Frenchman, "you will know there is no perfume 
 to match the scent of a dead traitor." 
 
 " I shall never wish to live till I lose the scent 
 of my nostrils or the sight of my eyes," said the 
 Scot. " Show me a living traitor, and here are my 
 hand and my weapon ; but when life is out, hatred 
 should not live longer. But here, I fancy, we come 
 upon the village ; where I hope to show you that 
 neither ducking nor disgust have spoiled mine ap- 
 petite for my breakfast. So, my good friend to the 
 hostelrie, with all the speed you may. Yet, ere I 
 accept of your hospitality, let me know by what 
 name to call you." 
 
 "Men call me Maitre Pierre," answered his 
 companion. "I deal in no titles. A plain man, 
 that can live on mine own good that is my 
 designation." 
 
 " So be it, Maitre Pierre," said Quentin, " and I 
 am happy my good chance has thrown us together ; 
 for I want a word of seasonable advice, and can be 
 thankful for it." 
 
 While they spoke thus, the tower of the church, 
 and a tall wooden crucifix, rising above the trees, 
 showed that they were at the entrance of the village. 
 
 But Maitre Pierre, deflecting a little from the 
 road, which had now joined an open and public 
 causeway, said to his companion, that the inn to 
 which he intended to introduce him stood some- 
 what secluded, and received only the better sort 
 of travellers. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 37 
 
 " If you mean those who travel with the better- 
 filled purses," answered the Scot, " I am none of 
 the number, and will rather stand my chance of 
 your flayers on the highway, than of your flayers 
 in the hostelrie ! " 
 
 " Pasques-dieu ! " said his guide, " how cautious 
 your countrymen of Scotland are ! An Englishman, 
 now, throws himself headlong into a tavern, eats 
 and drinks of the best, and never thinks of the 
 reckoning till his belly is full. But you forget, 
 Master Quentin, since Quentin is your name, you 
 forget I owe you a breakfast for the wetting which 
 my mistake procured you It is the penance of my 
 offence towards you. 
 
 "In truth," said the light-hearted young man, 
 " I had forgot wetting, offence, and penance and all. 
 I have walked my clothes dry, or nearly so, but I 
 will not refuse your offer in kindness ; for my 
 dinner yesterday was a light one, and supper I had 
 none. You seem an old and respectable burgess, 
 and I see no reason why I should not accept your 
 courtesy." 
 
 The Frenchman smiled aside, for he saw plainly 
 that the youth, while he was probably half famished, 
 had yet some difficulty to reconcile himself to the 
 thoughts of feeding at a stranger's cost, and was 
 endeavouring to subdue his inward pride by the 
 reflection, that, in such slight obligations, the 
 acceptor performed as complaisant a part as he by 
 whom the courtesy was offered." 
 
 In the meanwhile they descended a narrow lane, 
 overshadowed by tall elms, at the bottom of which 
 a gateway admitted them into the court-yard of an 
 inn of unusual magnitude, calculated for the accom- 
 modation of the nobles and suitors who had business 
 
38 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 at the neighbouring Castle, where very seldom, and 
 only when such hospitality was altogether unavoid- 
 able, did Louis XI. permit any of his Court to have 
 apartments. A scutcheon, bearing the fleur-de-lys, 
 hung over the principal door of the large irregular 
 building ; but there was about the yard and the 
 offices little or none of the bustle which in those 
 days, when attendants were maintained both in 
 public and in private houses, marked that business 
 was alive, and custom plenty. It seemed as if the 
 stern and unsocial character of the royal mansion 
 in the neighbourhood had communicated a portion 
 of its solemn and terrific gloom even to a place 
 designed, according to universal custom elsewhere, 
 for the temple of social indulgence, merry society, 
 and good cheer. 
 
 Maitre Pierre, without calling any one, and 
 even without approaching the principal entrance, 
 lifted the latch of a side door, and led the way 
 into a large room, where a fagot was blazing on 
 the hearth, and arrangements made for a substantial 
 breakfast. 
 
 " My gossip has been careful," said the French- 
 man to the Scot - " You must be cold, and I have 
 commanded a fire ; you must be hungry, and you 
 shall have breakfast presently." 
 
 He whistled, and the landlord entered, an- 
 swered Maitre Pierre's ton jour with a reverence, 
 but in no respect showed any part of the prating 
 humour properly belonging to a French publican of 
 all ages. 
 
 " I expected a gentleman," said Maitre Pierre, " to 
 order breakfast Hath he done so ? " 
 
 In answer, the landlord only bowed ; and while 
 he continued to bring, and arrange upon the table, 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 39 
 
 the various articles of a comfortable meal, omitted 
 to extol their merits by a single word. And yet 
 the breakfast merited such eulogiums as French 
 hosts are wont to confer upon their regales, as the 
 reader will be informed in the next Chapter. 
 
CHAPTEK IV. 
 
 THE DEJEUNER. 
 
 Sacred heaven ! what masticators ! what bread ! 
 
 Yorick's Travels. 
 
 We left our young stranger in France situated 
 more comfortably than he had found himself since 
 entering the territories of the ancient Gauls. The 
 breakfast, as we hinted in the conclusion of the last 
 Chapter, was admirable. There was a fdU de Pe- 
 rigord, over which a gastronome would have wished 
 to live and die, like Homer's lotus-eaters, forgetful 
 of kin, native country, and all social obligations 
 whatever. Its vast walls of magnificent crust 
 seemed raised like the bulwarks of some rich metro- 
 politan city, an emblem of the wealth which they 
 are designed to protect. There was a delicate 
 ragout, with just that petit point de Vail which Gas- 
 cons love, and Scottishmen do not hate. There was, 
 besides, a delicate ham, which had once supported 
 a noble wild boar in the neighbouring wood of 
 Mountrichart. There was the most exquisite white 
 bread, made into little round loaves called boules, 
 (whence the bakers took their French name of 
 boulangers,) of which the crust was so inviting, 
 that, even with water alone, it would have been a 
 delicacy. But the water was not alone, for there 
 was a flask of leather called bottrine, which con- 
 tained about a quart of exquisite Vin de Beaulne. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 41 
 
 So many good things might have created appetite 
 under the ribs of death. What effect, then, must 
 they have produced upon a youngster of scarce 
 twenty, who (for th'e truth must be told) had eaten 
 little for the two last days, save the scarcely ripe 
 fruit which chance afforded him an opportunity of 
 plucking, and a very moderate portion of barley- 
 bread ? He threw himself upon the ragout, and the 
 plate was presently vacant he attacked the mighty 
 pasty, marched deep into the bowels of the land, 
 and, seasoning his enormous meal with an occa- 
 tional cup of wine, returned to the charge again and 
 again, to the astonishment of mine host, and the 
 amusement of Maitre Pierre. 
 
 The latter, indeed, probably because he found 
 himself the author of a kinder action than he had 
 thought of, seemed delighted with the appetite of 
 the young Scot ; and when, at length, he observed 
 that his exertions began to languish, endeavoured 
 to stimulate him to new efforts, by ordering con- 
 fections, darioles, and any other light dainties he 
 could think of, to entice the youth to continue his 
 meal. While thus engaged, Maitre Pierre's coun- 
 tenance expressed a kind of good-humour almost 
 amounting to benevolence, which appeared remote 
 from its ordinary sharp, caustic, and severe charac- 
 ter. The aged almost always sympathize with the 
 enjoyments of youth, and with its exertions of every 
 kind, when the mind of the spectator rests on its 
 natural poise, and is not disturbed by inward envy 
 or idle emulation. 
 
 Quentin Durward also, while thus agreeably em- 
 ployed, could do no otherwise than discover that 
 the countenance of his entertainer, which he had at 
 first found so unprepossessing, mended when it was 
 
42 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 seen under the influence of the Vin de Beaulne i 
 and there was kindness in the tone with which he 
 reproached Maitre Pierre, that he amused himself 
 with laughing at his appetite,* without eating any 
 thing himself. 
 
 " I am doing penance," said Maitre Pierre, " and 
 may not eat any thing before noon, save some com- 
 fiture and a cup of water. Bid yonder lady," he 
 added, turning to the innkeeper, "bring them hither 
 to me." 
 
 The innkeeper left the room, and Maitre Pierre 
 proceeded, "Well, have I kept faith with you 
 concerning the breakfast I promised you?" 
 
 "The best meal I have eaten," said the youth, 
 " since I left Glen-houlakin." 
 
 " Glen what ? " demanded Maitre Pierre ; " are 
 you going to raise the devil, that you use such long- 
 tailed words ? " 
 
 " Glen-houlakin," answered Quentin, good-hu- 
 mouredly, " which is to say the Glen of the Midges, 
 is the name of our ancient patrimony, my good sir. 
 You have bought the right to laugh at the sound, 
 if you please." 
 
 " I have not the least intention to offend," said 
 the old man ; " but I was about to say, since you 
 like, your present meal so well, that the Scottish 
 Archers of the guard eat as good a one, or a better, 
 every day." 
 
 " No wonder," said Durward, " for if they be shut 
 up in the swallows' nests all night, they must needs 
 have a curious appetite in the morning." 
 
 "And plenty to gratify it upon," said Maitre 
 Pierre. "They need not, like the Burgundians, 
 chouse a bare back, that they may have a full belly 
 they dress like counts, and feast like abbots." 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 43 
 
 * It is well for them," said Durward. 
 
 "And wherefore will you not take service here, 
 young man ? Your uncle might, I dare say, have 
 you placed on the file when there should a vacancy 
 occur. And, hark in your ear, I myself have some 
 little interest, and might be of some use to you. 
 You can ride, I presume, as well as draw the 
 bow ? " 
 
 " Our race are as good horsemen as ever put a 
 plated shoe into a steel stirrup ; and I know not 
 but I might accept of your kind offer. Yet, look 
 you, food and raiment are needful things, but, in my 
 case, men think of honour, and advancement, and 
 brave deeds of arms. Your King Louis God bless 
 him, for he is a friend and ally of Scotland but 
 he lies here in this castle, or only rides about from 
 one fortified town to another ; and gains cities and 
 provinces by politic embassies, and not in fair fight- 
 ing. Now, for me, I am of the Douglasses' mind, 
 who always kept the fields, because they loved bet- 
 ter to hear the lark sing than the mouse squeak." 
 
 " Young man," said Maitre Pierre, " do not judge 
 too rashly of the actions of sovereigns. Louis seeks 
 to spare the blood of his subjects, and cares not for 
 his own. He showed himself a man of courage at 
 Montl'hdry." 
 
 " Ay, but that was some dozen years ago or more," 
 answered the youth. "I should like to follow a 
 master that would keep his honour as bright as his 
 shield, and always venture foremost in the very 
 throng of the battle." 
 
 " Why did you not tarry at Brussels, then, with 
 the Duke of Burgundy ? He would put you in the 
 way to have your bones broken every day , and, 
 rather than fail, would do the job for you himself 
 
44 QUENTIN DTJRWARD. 
 
 especially if he heard that you had beaten his 
 forester." 
 
 " Very true," said Quentin ; " my unhappy chance 
 has shut that door against me." 
 
 "Nay, there are plenty of dare-devils abroad, 
 with whom mad youngsters may find service," 
 said his adviser. "What think you, for example, 
 of William de la Marck ? " 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Durward, " serve Him with 
 the Beard serve the wild Boar of Ardennes a 
 captain of pillagers and murderers, who would take 
 a man's life for the value of his gaberdine, and who 
 slays priests and pilgrims as if they were so many 
 lance-knights and men-at-arms ? It would be a blot 
 on my father's scutcheon for ever." 
 
 "Well, my young hot-blood," replied Maitre 
 Pierre, "if you hold the Sanglier too unscrupu- 
 lous, wherefore not follow the young Duke of 
 Gueldres ? " l 
 
 "Follow the foul fiend as soon," said Quentin. 
 " Hark in your ear he is a burden too heavy for 
 earth to carry hell gapes for him ! Men say that 
 he keeps his own father imprisoned, and that he has 
 even struck him Can you believe it ? " 
 
 Maitre Pierre seemed somewhat disconcerted with 
 the naive horror with which the young Scotsman 
 
 1 This was Adolphus, son of Arnold and of Catherine de Bourhon. 
 The present story has little to do with him, though one of the most 
 atrocious characters of his time. He made war against his father ; 
 in which unnatural strife he made the old man prisoner, and used 
 him with the most hrutal violence, proceeding, it is said, even to 
 the length of striking him with his hand. Arnold, in resentment 
 of this usage, disinherited the unprincipled wretch, and sold to 
 Charles of Burgundy whatever rights he had over the duchy of 
 Gueldres and earldom of Zutphen. Mary of Burgundy, daughter 
 of Charles, restored these possessions to the unnatural Adolphus, 
 who was slain in K77. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 45 
 
 spoke of filial ingratitude, and he answered, " You 
 know not, young man, how short a while the rela- 
 tions of blood subsist amongst those of elevated 
 rank ; " then changed the tone of feeling in which 
 he had begun to speak, and added, gaily, " besides, 
 if the Duke has beaten his father, I warrant you 
 his father hath beaten him of old, so it is but 
 a clearing of scores." 
 
 " I marvel to hear you speak thus," said the Scot, 
 colouring with indignation ; " grey hairs such as 
 yours ought to have fitter subjects for jesting. If 
 the old Duke did beat his son in childhood, he beat 
 him not enough ; for better he had died under the 
 rod, than have lived to make the Christian world 
 ashamed that such a monster had ever been 
 baptized." 
 
 " At this rate," said Maitre Pierre, " as you weigh 
 the characters of each prince and leader, I think 
 you had better become a captain yourself; for where 
 will one so wise find a chieftain fit to command 
 him ? " 
 
 " You laugh at me, Maitre Pierre," said the youth, 
 good-humouredly, " and perhaps you are right ; but 
 you have not named a man who is a gallant leader, 
 and keeps a brave party up here, under whom a man 
 might seek service well enough." 
 
 " I cannot guess whom you mean." 
 
 "Why, he that hangs like Mahomet's coffin (a 
 curse be upon Mahomet ! ) between the two load- 
 stones he that no man can call either French or 
 Burgundian, but who knows to hold the balance 
 between them both, and makes both of them fear 
 and serve him, for as great princes as they be." 
 
 "I cannot guess whom you mean," said Maitre 
 Pierre, thoughtfully. 
 
46 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 " Why, whom should I mean but the noble Louis 
 de Luxembourg, Count of Saint Paul, the High 
 Constable of France ? Yonder he makes his place 
 good, with his gallant little army, holding his head 
 as high as either King Louis or Duke Charles, and 
 balancing between them, like the boy who stands 
 on the midst of a plank, while two others are swing- 
 ing on the opposite ends." 1 
 
 " He is in danger of the worst fall of the three," 
 said Maitre Pierre. "And hark ye, my young 
 friend, you who hold pillaging such a crime, do 
 you know that your politic Count of Saint Paul 
 was the first who set the example of burning the 
 country during the time of war? and that before 
 the shameful devastation which he committed, open 
 towns and villages, which made no resistance, were 
 spared on all sides ? " 
 
 "Nay, faith," said Durward, "if that be the 
 case, I shall begin to think no one of these great 
 men is much better than another, and that a choice 
 among them is but like choosing a tree to be hung 
 upon. But this Count de Saint Paul, this Con- 
 stable, hath possessed himself by clean conveyance 
 of the town which takes its name from my honoured 
 saint and patron, Saint Quentin," 2 (here he crossed 
 
 1 This part of Louis Xlth's reign was much embarrassed by 
 the intrigues of the Constable Saint Paul, who affected indepen- 
 dence, and carried on intrigues with England, France, and Bur- 
 gundy, at the same time. According to the usual fate of such 
 variable politicians, the Constable ended by drawing upon him- 
 self the animosity of all the powerful neighbours whom he had 
 in their turn amused and deceived. He was delivered up by the 
 Duke of Burgundy to the King of France, tried, and hastily 
 executed for treason, a. d. 1475. 
 
 2 It was by his possession of this town of Saint Quentin that 
 the Constable was able to carry on those political intrigues, which 
 finally cost him so dear. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 47 
 
 Irimself,) " and methinks, were I dwelling there, my 
 holy patron would keep some look-out for me he 
 has not so many named after him as your more 
 popular saints and yet he must have forgotten 
 me, poor Quentin Durward, his spiritual god-son, 
 since he lets me go one day without food, and leaves 
 me the next morning to the harbourage of Saint 
 Julian, and the chance courtesy of a stranger, pur- 
 chased by a ducking in the renowned river Cher, or 
 one of its tributaries." 
 
 " Blaspheme not the saints, my young friend," 
 said Maitre Pierre. "Saint Julian is the faithful 
 patron of travellers ; and, perad venture, the blessed 
 Saint Quentin hath done more and better for thee 
 than thou art aware of." 
 
 As he spoke, the door opened, and a girl, rather 
 above than under fifteen years old, entered with a 
 platter, covered with damask, on which was placed 
 a small saucer of the dried plums which have al- 
 ways added to the reputation of Tours, and a cup 
 of the curiously chased plate which the goldsmiths 
 of that city were anciently famous for executing 
 with a delicacy of workmanship that distinguished 
 them from the other cities of France, and even ex- 
 celled the skill of the metropolis. The form of trie 
 goblet was so elegant, that Durward thought not 
 of observing closely whether the material was of 
 silver, or, like what had been placed before himself, 
 of a baser metal, but so well burnished as to re- 
 semble the richer ore. 
 
 But the sight of the young person by whom this 
 service was executed, attracted Durward's attention 
 far more than the petty minutiae of the duty which 
 she performed. 
 
 He speedily made the discovery, that a quantity 
 
48 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 of long black tresses, which, in the maiden fashion 
 of his own country, were unadorned by any orna- 
 ment, except a single chaplet lightly woven out of 
 ivy leaves, formed a veil around a countenance, 
 which, in its regular features, dark eyes, and pen- 
 sive expression, resembled that of Melpomene, 
 though there was a faint glow on the cheek, and 
 an intelligence on the lips and in the eye, which 
 made it seem that gaiety was not foreign to a coun- 
 tenance so expressive, although it might not be its 
 most habitual expression. Quentin even thought 
 he could discern that depressing circumstances were 
 the cause why a countenance so young and so lovely 
 was graver than belongs to early beauty; and as 
 the romantic imagination of youth is rapid in draw- 
 ing conclusions from slight premises, he was pleased 
 to infer, from what follows, that the fate of this 
 beautiful vision was wrapped in silence and mystery. 
 
 " How now, Jacqueline ! " said Maitre Pierre, 
 when she entered the apartment " Wherefore 
 this ? Did I not desire that Dame Perette should 
 bring what I wanted ? Pasques-dieu ! Is she, or 
 does she think herself, too good to serve me ? " 
 
 " My kinswoman is ill at ease," answered Jac- 
 queline, in a hurried yet a humble tone ; " ill at 
 ease, and keeps her chamber." 
 
 " She keeps it alone, I hope ? " replied Maitre 
 Pierre, with some emphasis ; " I am vieux routier, 
 and none of those upon whom feigned disorders 
 pass for apologies." 
 
 Jacqueline turned pale, and even tottered at the 
 answer of Maitre Pierre ; for it must be owned, 
 that his voice and looks, at all times harsh, caustic, 
 and unpleasing, had, when he expressed anger or 
 suspicion, an effect both sinister and alarming. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 49 
 
 The mountain chivalry of Quentin Durward was 
 instantly awakened, and he hastened to approach 
 Jacqueline, and relieve her of the burden she bore, 
 and which she passively resigned to him, while with 
 a timid and anxious look, she watched the counte- 
 nance of the angry burgess. It was not in nature 
 to resist the piercing and pity-craving expression 
 of her looks, and Maitre Pierre proceeded, not 
 merely with an air of diminished displeasure, but 
 with as much gentleness as he could assume in 
 countenance and manner, " I blame not thee, Jac- 
 queline, and thou art too young to be what it is 
 pity to think thou must be one day a false and 
 treacherous thing, like the rest of thy giddy sex. 
 No man ever lived to man's estate, but he had the 
 opportunity to know you all. 1 Here is a Scottish 
 cavalier will tell you the same." 
 
 Jacqueline looked for an instant on the young 
 stranger, as if to obey Maitre Pierre, but the glance, 
 momentary as it was, appeared to Durward a pa- 
 thetic appeal to him for support and sympathy ; and 
 with the promptitude dictated by the feelings of 
 youth, and the romantic veneration for the female 
 sex inspired by his education, he answered hastily, 
 " That he would throw down his gage to any antag- 
 onist, of equal rank and equal age, who should 
 presume to say such a countenance, as that which 
 he now looked upon, could be animated by other 
 than the purest and the truest mind." 
 
 The young woman grew deadly pale, and cast an 
 apprehensive glance upon Maitre Pierre, in whom 
 the bravado of the young gallant seemed only to 
 
 1 It was a part of Louis's very unamiable character, and not the 
 best part of it, that he entertained a great contempt for the under 
 standing, and not less for the character, of the fair sex. 
 
 VOL. I. 4 
 
5 o QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 excite laughter, more scornful than applausive 
 Quentin, whose second thoughts generally corrected 
 the first, though sometimes after they had found 
 utterance, blushed deeply at having uttered what 
 might be construed into an empty boast, in presence 
 of an old man of a peaceful profession ; and, as a 
 sort of just and appropriate penance, resolved pa- 
 tiently to submit to the ridicule which he had 
 incurred. He offered the cup and trencher to Maitre 
 Pierre with a blush in his cheek, and a humiliation 
 of countenance, which endeavoured to disguise itself 
 under an embarrassed smile. 
 
 "You are a foolish young man," said Maitre 
 Pierre, " and know as little of women as of princes, 
 
 whose hearts," he said, crossing himself devoutly, 
 " God keeps in his right hand." 
 
 " And who keeps those of the women, then ? " 
 said Quentin, resolved, if he could help it, not to 
 be borne down by the assumed superiority of this 
 extraordinary old man, whose lofty and careless 
 manner possessed an influence over him of which 
 he felt ashamed. 
 
 " I am afraid you must ask of them in another 
 quarter," said Maitre Pierre, composedly. 
 
 Quentin was again rebuffed, but not utterly dis- 
 concerted. " Surely," he said to himself, " I do 
 not pay this same burgess of Tours all the defer- 
 ence which I yield him, on account of the miserable 
 obligation of a breakfast, though it was a right good 
 and substantial meal. Dogs and hawks are attached 
 by feeding only man must have kindness, if you 
 would bind him with the cords of affection and 
 obligation. But he is an extraordinary person ; and 
 that beautiful emanation that is even now vanishing 
 
 surely a thing so fair belongs not to this mean 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 5 t 
 
 place, belongs not even to the money-gathering 
 merchant himself, though he seems to exert author- 
 ity over her, as doubtless he does over all whom 
 chance brings within his little circle. It is won- 
 derful what ideas of consequence these Flemings 
 and Frenchmen attach to wealth so much more 
 than wealth deserves, that I suppose this old mer- 
 chant thinks the civility I pay to his age is given 
 to his money I, a Scottish gentleman of blood and 
 coat-armour, and he a mechanic of Tours ! " 
 
 Such were the thoughts which hastily traversed 
 the mind of young Durward ; while Maitre Pierre 
 said, with a smile, and at the same time patting 
 Jacqueline's head, from which hung down her long 
 tresses, " This young man will serve me, Jacqueline 
 thou mayst withdraw. I will tell thy negligent 
 kinswoman she does ill to expose thee to be gazed 
 on unnecessarily." 
 
 " It was only to wait on you," said the maiden. 
 " I trust you will not be displeased with my kins- 
 woman, since " 
 
 " Pasques-dieu ! " said the merchant, interrupting 
 her, but not harshly, "do you bandy words with me, 
 you brat, or stay you to gaze upon the youngster 
 here ? Begone he is noble, and his services will 
 suffice me." 
 
 Jacqueline vanished ; and so much was Quentin 
 Durward interested in her sudden disappearance, 
 that it broke his previous thread of reflection, and 
 he complied mechanically, when Maitre Pierre said, 
 in the tone of one accustomed to be obeyed, as he 
 threw himself carelessly upon a large easy-chair, 
 " Place that tray beside me." 
 
 The merchant then let his dark eyebrows sink 
 over his keen eyes, so that the last became scarco 
 
52 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 visible, or but shot forth occasionally a quick and 
 vivid ray, like those of the sun setting behind a 
 dark cloud, through which its beams are occasionally 
 darted, but singly, and for an instant. 
 
 " That is a beautiful creature," said the old man 
 at last, raising his head, and looking steadily and 
 firmly at Quentin, when he put the question "a 
 lovely girl to be the servant of an auberge ? she 
 might grace the board of an honest burgess ; but 
 'tis a vile . education, a base origin." 
 
 It sometimes happens that a chance shot will 
 demolish a noble castle in the air, and the architect 
 on such occasions entertatns little good-will towards 
 him who fires it, although the damage on the offen- 
 der's part may be wholly unintentional. Quentin 
 was disconcerted, and was disposed to be angry 
 he himself knew not why with this old man, 
 for acquainting him that this beautiful creature was 
 neither more nor less than what her occupation 
 announced the servant of the auberge an upper 
 servant, indeed, and probably a niece of the land- 
 lord, or such like ; but still a e! )mestic, and obliged 
 to comply with the humour of the customers, and 
 particularly of Maitre Pierre, who probably had 
 sufficiency of whims, and was rich enough to ensure 
 their being attended to. 
 
 The thought, the lingering thought, again re- 
 turned on him, that he ought to make the old 
 gentleman understand the difference betwixt their 
 conditions, and call on him to mark, that, how rich 
 soever he might be, his wealth put him on no level 
 with a Durward of Glen-houlakin. Yet, whenever 
 he looked on Maitre Pierre's countenance with such 
 a purpose, there was, notwithstanding the down- 
 cast look, pinched features, and mean and miserly 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 53 
 
 dress, something which prevented the young man 
 from asserting the superiority over the merchant 
 which he conceived himself to possess. On the con- 
 trary, the oftener and more fixedly Quentin looked 
 at him, the stronger became his curiosity to know 
 who or what this man actually was; and he set 
 him down internally for at least a Syndic or high 
 magistrate of Tours, or one who was, in some way or 
 other, in the full habit of exacting and receiving 
 deference. 
 
 Meantime, the merchant seemed again sunk into 
 a reverie, from which he raised himself only to make 
 the sign of the cross devoutly, and to eat some of 
 the dried fruit, with a morsel of biscuit. He then 
 signed to Quentin to give him the cup, adding, 
 however, by way of question, as he presented it 
 " You are noble, you say ? " 
 
 "I surely am," replied the Scot, "if fifteen 
 descents can make me so So I told you before. 
 But do not constrain yourself on that account, 
 Maitre Pierre I have always been taught it is 
 the duty of the young to assist the more aged." 
 
 " An excellent maxim," said the merchant, avail- 
 ing himself of the youth's assistance in handing the 
 cup, and filling it from a ewer which seemed of the 
 same materials with the goblet, without any of 
 those scruples in point of propriety which, perhaps, 
 Quentin had expected to excite. 
 
 " The devil take the ease and familiarity of this 
 old mechanical burgher," said Durward once more 
 to himself ; " he uses the attendance of a noble 
 Scottish gentleman with as little ceremony as I 
 would that of a gillie from Glen-isla." 
 
 The merchant, in the meanwhile, having finished 
 his cup of water, said to his companion, " From the 
 
54 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 zeal with which you seemed to relish the Vin dt 
 Beaulne, I fancy you would not care much to pledge 
 me in this elemental liquor. But I have an elixir 
 about me which can convert even the rock water 
 into the richest wines of France." 
 
 As he spoke, he took a large purse from his 
 bosom, made of the fur of the sea-otter, and streamed 
 a shower of small silver pieces into the goblet, until 
 the cup, which was but a small one, was more than 
 half full. 
 
 " You have reason to be more thankful, young 
 man," said Maitre Pierre, "both to your patron 
 Saint Quentin, and to Saint Julian, than you seemed 
 to be but now. I would advise you to bestow alms 
 in their name. Eemain in this hostelry until you 
 see your kinsman, Le Balafre', who will be relieved 
 from guard in the afternoon. I will cause him to 
 be acquainted that he may find you here, for I have 
 business in the Castle." 
 
 Quentin Durward would have said something 
 to have excused himself from accepting the profuse 
 liberality of his new friend ; but Maitre Pierre, 
 bending his dark brows, and erecting his stooping 
 figure into an attitude of more dignity than he had 
 yet seen him assume, said, in a tone of authority, 
 "No reply, young man, but do what you are 
 commanded." 
 
 With these words, he left the apartment, making 
 a sign, as he departed, that Quentin must not follow 
 him. 
 
 The young Scotsman stood astounded, and knew 
 not what to think of the matter. His first most 
 natural, though perhaps not most dignified impulse, 
 drove him to peep into the silver goblet, which 
 assuredly was more than half full of silver pieces, 
 
QUENTIN DURWAKD. 55 
 
 to the number of several scores, of which perhaps 
 Quentin had never called twenty his own at one 
 time during the course of his whole life. But could 
 he reconcile it , to his dignity as a gentleman, to 
 accept the money of this wealthy plebeian ? This 
 was a trying question ; for though he had secured 
 a good breakfast, it was no great reserve upon which 
 to travel either back to Dijon, in case he chose to 
 hazard the wrath, and enter the service, of the Duke 
 of Burgundy, or to Saint Quentin, if he fixed on 
 that of the Constable Saint Paul ; for to one of those 
 powers, if not to the King of France, he was deter- 
 mined to offer his services. He perhaps took the 
 wisest resolution in the circumstances, in resolving 
 to be guided by the advice of his uncle ; and, in 
 the meantime, he put the money into his velvet 
 hawking-pouch, and called for the landlord of the 
 house, in order to restore the silver cup resolving, 
 at the same time, to ask him some questions about 
 this liberal and authoritative merchant. 
 
 The man of the house appeared presently ; and, 
 if not more communicative, was at least more loqua- 
 cious, than he had been formerly. He positively 
 declined to take back the silver cup. It was none 
 of his, he said, but Maitre Pierre's, who had 
 bestowed it on his guest. He had, indeed, four 
 silver hanaps of his own, which had been left him 
 by his grandmother, of happy memory, but no more 
 like the beautiful carving of that in his guest's hand, 
 than a peach was like a turnip, that was one of 
 the famous cups of Tours, wrought by Martin 
 Dominique, an artist who might brag all Paris. 
 
 "And, pray, who is this Maitre Pierre," said 
 Durward, interrupting him, " who confers such 
 valuable gifts on strangers ? " 
 
56 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 " Who is Maitre Pierre ? " said the host, dropping 
 the words as slowly from his mouth as if he had 
 been distilling them. 
 
 "Ay," said Durward, hastily and peremptorily, 
 " who is this Maitre Pierre, and why does he throw 
 about his bounties in this fashion ? And who is 
 the butcherly -looking fellow whom he sent forward 
 to order breakfast ? " 
 
 " Why, fair sir, as to who Maitre Pierre is, you 
 should have asked the question of himself ; and 
 for the gentleman who ordered breakfast to be 
 made ready, may God keep us from his closer 
 acquaintance ! " 
 
 "There is something mysterious in all this," said 
 the young Scot. " This Maitre Pierre tells me he 
 is a merchant." 
 
 "And if he told you so," said the innkeeper, 
 " surely he is a merchant." 
 
 "What commodities does he deal in ? " 
 
 " 0, many a fair matter of traffic," said the host ; 
 " and especially he has set up silk manufactories 
 here, which match those rich bales that the Vene- 
 tians bring from India and Cathay. You might 
 see the rows of Mulberry trees as you came hither, 
 all planted by Maitre Pierre's commands, to feed 
 the silk-worms." 
 
 " And that young person who brought in the confec- 
 tions, who is she, my good friend ?" said the guest. 
 
 " My lodger, sir, with her guardian, some sort 
 of aunt or kinswoman, as I think," replied the 
 innkeeper. 
 
 "And do you usually employ your guests in 
 waiting on each other ? " said Durward ; " for I 
 observed that Maitre Pierre would take nothing 
 from your hand, or that of your attendant." 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 57 
 
 "Kicli men may have their fancies, for they can 
 pay for them," said the landlord ; " this is not the 
 first time that Maitre Pierre has found the true 
 way to make gentlefolks serve at his beck." 
 
 The young Scotsman felt somewhat offended 
 at the insinuation ; but, disguising his resentment, 
 he asked whether he could be accommodated with 
 an apartment at this place for a day, and perhaps 
 longer. 
 
 " Certainly," the innkeeper replied ; " for what- 
 ever time he was pleased to command it." 
 
 " Could he be permitted," he asked, " to pay his 
 respects to the ladies, whose fellow-lodger he was 
 about to become ? " 
 
 The innkeeper was uncertain. " They went not 
 abroad," he said, " and received no one at home." 
 
 " With the exception, I presume, of Maitre 
 Pierre ? " said Durward. 
 
 "I am not at liberty to name any exceptions," 
 answered the man, firmly, but respectfully. 
 
 Quentin, who carried the notions of his own im- 
 portance pretty high, considering how destitute he 
 was of means to support them, being somewhat 
 mortified by the innkeeper's reply, did not hesitate 
 to avail himself of a practice common enough in that 
 age. "Carry to the ladies," he said, "a flask of 
 verndt, with my humble duty ; and say, that Quentin 
 Durward, of the house of Glen-houlakin, a Scottish 
 cavalier of honour, and now their fellow-lodger, 
 desires the permission to dedicate his homage to 
 them in a personal interview." 
 
 The messenger departed, and returned, almost 
 instantly, with the thanks of the ladies, who declined 
 the proffered refreshment, and with their acknow- 
 ledgments to the Scottish cavalier, regretted that, 
 
58 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 residing there in privacy, they could not receive his 
 visit. 
 
 Quentin bit his lip, took a cup of the rejected 
 verndt, which the host had placed on the table. " By 
 the mass, but this is a strange country," said he to 
 himself, " where merchants and mechanics exercise 
 the manners and munificence of nobles, and little 
 travelling damsels, who hold their court in a cabaret, 
 keep their state like disguised princesses ! I will 
 see that black-browed maiden again, or it will go 
 hard, however;" and having formed this prudent 
 resolution, he demanded to be conducted to the 
 apartment which he was to call his own. 
 
 The landlord presently ushered him up a turret 
 staircase, and from thence along a gallery, with 
 many doors opening from it, like those of cells in 
 a convent ; a resemblance which our young hero, 
 who recollected, with much ennui, an early speci- 
 men of a monastic life, was far from admiring. The 
 host paused at the very end of the gallery, selected 
 a key from the large bunch which he carried at his 
 girdle, opened the door, and showed his guest the 
 interior of a turret-chamber, small, indeed, but 
 which, being clean and solitary, and having the 
 pallet bed, and the few articles of furniture, in 
 unusually good order, seemed, on the whole, a little 
 palace. 
 
 "I hope you will find your dwelling agreeable 
 here, fair sir," said the landlord. "lam bound to 
 pleasure every friend of Maitre Pierre." 
 
 "0 happy ducking!" exclaimed Quentin Dur- 
 ward, cutting a caper on the floor, so soon as his 
 host had retired : " Never came good luck in a 
 better or a wetter form. I have been fairly deluged 
 by my good fortune." 
 
QUENT1N DURWAKD. 59 
 
 As he spoke thus, he stepped towards the little 
 window, which, as the turret projected considerably 
 from the principal line of the building, not only 
 commanded a very pretty garden, of some extent, 
 belonging to the inn, but overlooked, beyond its 
 boundary, a pleasant grove of those very mulberry- 
 trees, which Maitre Pierre was said to have planted 
 for the support of the silk-worm. Besides, turning 
 the eye from these more remote objects, and looking 
 straight along the wall, the turret of Quentin was 
 opposite to another turret, and the little window at 
 which he stood commanded a similar little window, 
 in a corresponding projection of the building. Now, 
 it would be difficult for a man twenty years older 
 than Quentin, to say why this locality interested 
 him more than either the pleasant garden or the 
 grove of mulberry-trees ; for, alas ! eyes which 
 have been used for forty years and upwards, look 
 with indifference on little turret-windows, though 
 the lattice be half open to admit the air, while the 
 shutter is half closed to exclude the sun, or perhaps 
 a too curious eye nay, even though there hang on 
 the one side of the casement a lute, partly mantled 
 by a light veil of sea-green silk. But, at Dur- 
 ward's happy age, such accidents, as a painter would 
 call them, form sufficient foundation for a hundred 
 airy visions and mysterious conjectures, at recol- 
 lection of which the full-grown man smiles while 
 he sighs, and sighs while he smiles. 
 
 As it may be supposed that our friend Quentin 
 wished to learn a little more of his fair neighbour, 
 the owner of the lute and veil, as it may be sup- 
 posed he was at least interested to know whether 
 she might not prove the same whom he had seen in 
 humble attendance on Maitre Pierre, it must of 
 
6o QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 course be understood, that he did not produce a 
 broad staring visage and person in full front of his 
 own casement. Durward knew better the art of 
 bird-catching ; and it was to his keeping his person 
 skilfully withdrawn on one side of his window, while 
 he peeped through the lattice, that he owed the 
 pleasure of seeing a white, round, beautiful arm, 
 take down the instrument, and that his ears had 
 presently after their share in the reward of his dex- 
 terous management. 
 
 The maid of the little turret, of the veil, and 
 of the lute, sung exactly such an air as we are 
 accustomed to suppose flowed from the lips of the 
 high-born dames of chivalry, when knights and 
 troubadours listened and languished. The words 
 had neither so much sense, wit, or fancy, as to with- 
 draw the attention from the music, nor the music 
 so much of art, as to drown all feeling of the words. 
 The one seemed fitted to the other ; and if the song 
 had been recited without the notes, or the air played 
 without the words, neither would have been worth 
 noting. It is, therefore, scarcely fair to put upon 
 record lines intended not to be said or read, but only 
 to be sung. But such scraps of old poetry have 
 always had a sort of fascination for us ; and as the 
 tune is lost for ever unless Bishop happens to find 
 the notes, or some lark teaches Stephens to warble 
 the air we will risk our credit, and the taste of 
 the Lady of the Lute, by preserving the verses, 
 simple and even rude as they are. 
 
 " Ah ! County Guy, the hour is nigh, 
 
 The sun has left the lea, 
 The orange flower perfumes the bower, 
 
 The breeze is on the sea. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 6l 
 
 The lark, his lay who thrillM all day, 
 
 Sits hush'd his partner nigh ; 
 Breeze, bird, and flower, confess the hour. 
 
 But where is County Guy ? 
 
 " The village maid steals through the shade, 
 
 Her shepherd's suit to hear ; 
 To beauty shy, by lattice high, 
 
 Sings high-born Cavalier. 
 The star of Love, all stars above, 
 
 Now reigns o'er earth and sky ; 
 And high and low the influence know 
 
 But where is County Guy ? * 
 
 Whatever the reader may think of this simple 
 ditty, it had a powerful effect on Quentin, when 
 married to heavenly airs, and sung by a sweet and 
 melting voice, the notes mingling with the gentle 
 breezes which wafted perfumes from the garden, 
 and the figure of the songstress being so partially 
 and obscurely visible, as threw a veil of mysterious 
 fascination over the whole. 
 
 At the close of the air, the listener could not help 
 showing himself more boldly than he had yet done, 
 in a rash attempt to see more than he had yet been 
 able to discover. The music instantly ceased the 
 casement was closed, and a dark curtain, dropped on 
 the inside, put a stop to all farther observation on 
 the part of the neighbour in the next turret. 
 
 Durward was mortified and surprised at the con- 
 sequence of his precipitance, but comforted himself 
 with the hope, that the Lady of the Lute could 
 neither easily forego the practice of an instrument 
 which seemed so familiar to her, nor cruelly resolve 
 to renounce the pleasures of fresh air and an open 
 window, for the churl, sh purpose of preserving for 
 her own exclusive ear th< sweet sounds which she 
 
62 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 created. There came, perhaps, a little feeling of 
 personal vanity to mingle with these consolatory 
 reflections. If, as he shrewdly suspected, there was 
 a beautiful dark-tressed damsel inhabitant of the one 
 turret, he could not but be conscious that a hand- 
 some, young, roving, bright-locked gallant, a cava- 
 lier of fortune, was the tenant of the other; and 
 romances, those prudent instructors, had taught his 
 youth, that if damsels were shy, they were yet 
 neither void of interest nor of curiosity in their 
 neighbours' affairs. 
 
 Whilst Quentin was engaged in these sage reflec- 
 tions, a sort of attendant or chamberlain of the inn 
 informed him that a cavalier desired to speak with 
 him below. 
 
 \S 
 
 A<? N 
 
CHAPTEE V. 
 
 THE MAN-AT-AKMS. 
 
 Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, 
 Seeking the bubble reputation even in the cannon's mouth. 
 
 As You Like It. 
 
 The cavalier who awaited Quentin Durward's 
 descent into the apartment where he had breakfasted, 
 was one of those of whom Louis XI. had long since 
 said, that they held in their hands the fortune of 
 France, as to them were intrusted the direct custody 
 and protection of the royal person. 
 
 Charles the Sixth had instituted this celeb^ted 
 body, the Archers, as they were called, of the Scot- 
 tish Body-guard, with better reason than can gen- 
 erally be alleged for establishing round the throne 
 a guard of foreign and mercenary troops. The 
 divisions which tore from his side more than half of 
 France, together with the wavering and uncertain 
 faith of the nobility who yet acknowledged his cause, 
 rendered it impolitic and unsafe to commit his per- 
 sonal safety to their keeping. The Scottish nation 
 was the hereditary enemy of the English, and the 
 ancient, and, as it seemed, the natural allies of 
 France. They were poor, courageous, faithful 
 their ranks were sure to be supplied from the super- 
 abundant population of their own country, than 
 which none in Europe sent forth more or bolder 
 adventurers. Their high claims of descent, too, 
 gave them a good title to approach the person of a 
 
64 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 monarch more closely than other troops, while the 
 comparative smallness of their numbers prevented 
 the possibility of their mutinying, and becoming 
 masters where they ought to be servants. 
 
 On the other hand, the French monarchs made 
 it their policy to conciliate the affections of this 
 select band of foreigners, by allowing them honor- 
 ary privileges and ample pay, which last most of 
 them disposed of with military profusion in sup- 
 porting their supposed rank. Each of them ranked 
 as a gentleman in place and honour; and their 
 near approach to the King's person gave them dig- 
 nity in their own eyes, as well as importance in 
 those of the nation of France. They were sump- 
 tuously armed, equipped, and mounted ; and each 
 was entitled to allowance for a squire, a valet, a 
 page, and two yeomen, one of whom was termed 
 coutllier, from the large knife which he wore to 
 dispatch those whom in the melfa his master had 
 thrown to the ground. With these followers, and 
 a corresponding equipage, an Archer of the Scot- 
 tish Guard was a person of quality and importance ; 
 and vacancies being generally filled up by those 
 who had been trained in the service as pages or 
 valets, the cadets of the best Scottish families were 
 often sent to serve under some friend and relation 
 in those capacities, until a chance of preferment 
 should occur. 
 
 The coutelier and his companion, not being noble 
 or capable of this promotion, were recruited from 
 persons of inferior quality ; but as their pay and 
 appointments were excellent, their masters were 
 easily able to select from among their wandering 
 countrymen the strongest and most courageous to 
 wait upon them in these capacities. 
 
QUENTIN DTJRWARD. 65 
 
 Ludovic Lesly, or, as we shall more frequently 
 call him, Le Balafre, by which name he was gen- 
 erally known in France, was upwards of six feet 
 high, robust, strongly compacted in person, and 
 hard-favoured in countenance, which latter attribute 
 was much increased by a large and ghastly scar, 
 which, beginning on his forehead, and narrowly 
 missing his right eye, had laid bare the cheek-bone, 
 and descended from thence almost to the tip of his 
 ear, exhibiting a deep seam, which was sometimes 
 scarlet, sometimes purple, sometimes blue, and 
 sometimes approaching to black ; but always hide- 
 ous, because at variance with the complexion of 
 the face in whatever state it chanced to be, whether 
 agitated or still, flushed with unusual passion, or 
 in its ordinary state of weatherbeaten and sunburnt 
 swarthiness. 
 
 His dress and arms were splendid. He wore his 
 national bonnet, crested with a tuft of feathers, and 
 with a Virgin Mary of massive silver for a brooch. 
 These brooches had been presented to the Scottish 
 Guard, in consequence of the King, in one of his 
 fits of superstitious piety, having devoted the swords 
 of his guard to the service of the Holy Virgin, and, 
 as some say, carried the matter so far as to draw 
 out a commission to Our Lady as their Captain Gen- 
 eral. The Archer's gorget, arm-pieces, and gaunt- 
 lets, were of the finest steel, curiously inlaid with 
 silver, and his hauberk, or shirt of mail, was as clear 
 and bright as the frostwork of a winter morning 
 upon fern or brier. He wore a loose surcoat, or 
 cassock, of rich blue velvet, open at the sides like 
 that of a herald, with a large white St. Andrew's 
 cross of embroidered silver bisecting it both before 
 and behind his knees and legs were protected by 
 
 VOL. 1. 5 
 
66 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 hose of mail and shoes of steel a hroad strong 
 poniard (called the Mercy of God) hung by his 
 right side the baldric for his two-handed sword, 
 richly embroidered, hung upon his left shoulder; 
 but, for convenience, he at present carried in his 
 hand that unwieldy weapon, which the rules of his 
 service forbade him to lay aside. 
 
 Quentin Durward, though, like the Scottish youth 
 of the period, he had been early taught to look 
 upon arms and war, thought he had never seen a 
 more martial-looking, or more completely equipped 
 and accomplished man-at-arms, than now saluted 
 him in the person of his mother's brother, called 
 Ludovic with the Scar, or Le Balafre* ; yet he could 
 not but shrink a little from the grim expression of 
 his countenance, while, with its rough mustaches, 
 he brushed first the one and then the other cheek 
 of his kinsman, welcomed his nephew to France, 
 and, in the same breath, asked what news from 
 Scotland. 
 
 " Little good tidings, dear uncle," replied young 
 Durward ; " but I am glad that you know me so 
 readily." 
 
 " I would have known thee, boy, in the landes of 
 Bourdeaux, had I met thee marching there like a 
 crane on a pair of stilts. 1 But sit thee down sit 
 thee down if there is sorrow to hear of, we will 
 have wine to make us bear it. Ho ! old Pinch- 
 Measure, our good host, bring us of thy best, and 
 that in an instant." 
 
 The well-known sound of the Scottish-French 
 was as familiar in the taverns near Plessis, as that 
 
 1 The crutches or stilts, which in Scotland are used to pass 
 rivers. They are employed by the peasantry of the country neai 
 Bourdeaux, to traverse those deserts of loose sand called Landes. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 67 
 
 of the Swiss-French in the modern gdinguettes of 
 Paris; and promptly ay, with the promptitude 
 of fear and precipitation, was it heard and obeyed. 
 A flagon of champagne stood before them, of which 
 the elder took a draught, while the nephew helped 
 himself only to a moderate sip, to acknowledge his 
 uncle's courtesy, saying, in excuse, that he had 
 already drunk wine that morning. 
 
 " That had been a rare good apology in the mouth 
 of thy sister, fair nephew," said Le Balafre* ; " you 
 must fear the wine-pot less, if you would wear 
 beard on your face, and write yourself soldier. But 
 come come unbuckle your Scottish mail-bag 
 give us the news of Glen-houlakin How doth my. 
 sister ? " 
 
 " Dead, fair uncle," answered Quentin, sorrowfully. 
 
 " Dead ! " echoed his uncle with a tone rather 
 marked by wonder than sympathy " why, she was 
 five years younger than I, and I was never better 
 in my life. Dead ! the thing is impossible. I have 
 never had so much as a headache, unless after revel- 
 ling out my two or three days' furlough with the 
 brethren of the joyous science and my poor sister 
 is dead ! And your father, fair nephew, hath he 
 married again ? " 
 
 And ere the youth could reply, he read the 
 answer in his surprise at the question, and said, 
 " What ! no ? I would have sworn that Allan 
 Durward was no man to live without a wife. He 
 loved to have his house in order loved to look on 
 a pretty woman too; and was somewhat strict in 
 life withal matrimony did all this for him. Now, I 
 care little about these comforts ; and I can look on 
 a pretty woman without thinking on the sacrament 
 of wedlock I am scarce holy enough for that." 
 
68 
 
 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 " Alas ! dear uncle, my mother was left a widow 
 a year since, when Glen-houlakin was harried by the 
 Ogilvies. My father, and my two uncles, and my 
 two elder brothers, and seven of my kinsmen, and 
 the harper, and the tasker, and some six more of 
 our people, were killed in defending the castle ; and 
 there is not a burning hearth or a standing stone in 
 all Glen-houlakin." 
 
 " Cross of Saint Andrew ! " said Le Balafre' ; 
 " that is what I call an onslaught ! Ay, these 
 Ogilvies were ever but sorry neighbours to Glen- 
 houlakin an evil chance it was ; but fate of war 
 fate of war. When did this mishap befall, fair 
 nephew ? " With that he took a deep draught of 
 wine, and shook his head with much solemnity, 
 when his kinsman replied, that his family had been 
 destroyed upon the festival of Saint Jude last 
 bypast. 
 
 "Look ye there," said the soldier; "I said it 
 was all chance on that very day I and twenty of 
 my comrades carried the Castle of Eoche-noir by 
 storm, from Amaury Bras-de-fer, a captain of free 
 lances, whom you must have heard of. I killed him 
 on his own threshold, and gained as much gold as 
 made this fair chain, which was once twice as long 
 as it now is and that minds me to send part of it 
 on an holy errand. Here, Andrew Andrew ! " 
 
 Andrew, his yeoman, entered, dressed like the 
 Archer himself in the general equipment, but with- 
 out the armour for the limbs, that of the body 
 more coarsely manufactured his cap without a 
 plume, and his cassock made of serge, or ordinary 
 cloth, instead of rich velvet. Untwining his gold 
 chain from his neck, Balafre' twisted off, with his 
 firm and strong-set teeth, about four inches from the 
 
 
QUENTIN DURWAKD. 69 
 
 one end of it, and said to his attendant, "Here, 
 Andrew, carry this to my gossip, Jolly Father 
 Boniface, the monk of Saint Martin's greet him 
 well from me, by the same token that he conld not 
 say God save ye when we last parted at midnight 
 Tell my gossip that my brother and sister, and some 
 others of my house, are all dead and gone, and I 
 pray him to say masses for their souls as far as the 
 value of these links will carry him, and to do on 
 trust what else may be necessary to free them from 
 Purgatory. And hark ye, as they were just-living 
 people, and free from all heresy, it may be that they 
 are wellnigh "out of limbo already, so that a little 
 matter may have them free of the fetlocks ; and in 
 that case, look ye, ye will say I desire to take out 
 the balance of the gold in curses upon a generation 
 called the Ogilvies of Angus-shire, in what way 
 soever the church may best come at them. You 
 understand all this, Andrew ? " 
 
 The coutelier nodded. 
 
 " Then look that none of the links find their way 
 to the wine-house ere the Monk touches them ; for 
 if it so chance, thou shalt taste of saddle-girth and 
 stirrup-leather, till thou art as raw as Saint Bartho- 
 lomew. Yet hold, I see thy eye has fixed on the 
 wine measure, and thou shalt not go without 
 tasting." 
 
 So saying, he filled him a brimful cup, which the 
 coutelier drank off, and retired to do his patron's 
 commission. 
 
 " And now, fair nephew, let us hear what was 
 your own fortune in this unhappy matter." 
 
 " I fought it out among those who were older and 
 stouter than I was, till we were all brought down," 
 said Durward, " and I received a cruel wound." 
 
7o QUENTIN DURWAUD. 
 
 "Not a worse slash than I received ten years 
 since myself," said Le Balafre\ " Look at this now, 
 my fair nephew," tracing the dark crimson gash 
 which was imprinted on his face " An Ogilvie's 
 sword never ploughed so deep a furrow." 
 
 " They ploughed deep enough," answered Quentin 
 sadly; "but they were tired at last, and my 
 mother's entreaties procured mercy for me, when 
 I was found to retain some spark of life ; but al- 
 though a learned monk of Aberbrothick, who chanced 
 to be our guest at the fatal time, and narrowly 
 escaped being killed in the fray, was permitted to 
 bind my wounds, and finally to remove me to a place 
 of safety, it was only on promise, given both by my 
 mother and him, that I should become a monk." 
 
 " A monk ! " exclaimed the uncle " Holy Saint 
 Andrew ! that is what never befell me. No one, from 
 my childhood upwards, ever so much as dreamed 
 of making me a monk And yet I wonder when 
 I think of it ; for you will allow that, bating the 
 reading and writing, which I could never learn, and 
 the psalmody, which I could never endure, and the 
 dress, which is that of a mad beggar Our Lady 
 forgive me ! [here he crossed himself] and their 
 fasts, which do not suit my appetite, I would have 
 made every whit as good a monk as my little 
 gossip at Saint Martin's yonder. But I know not 
 why, none ever proposed the station to me. so, 
 fair nephew, you were to be a monk, then and 
 wherefore, I pray you ? " 
 
 " That my father's house might be ended, either 
 in the cloister or in the tomb," answered Quentin, 
 with deep feeling. 
 
 " I see," answered his uncle "I comprehend. 
 Cunning rogues very cunning ! They might have 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 71 
 
 been cheated, though ; for, look ye, fair nephew, I 
 myself remember the canon Eobersart who had 
 taken the vows, and afterwards broke out of cloister, 
 and became a captain of Free Companions. He 
 had a mistress, the prettiest wench I ever saw, and 
 three as beautiful children There is no trusting 
 monks, fair nephew, no trusting them they 
 may become soldiers and fathers when you least 
 expect it but on with your tale." 
 
 " I have little more to tell," said Durward, 
 " except that, considering my poor mother to be in 
 some degree a pledge for me, I was induced to take 
 upon me the dress of a novice, and conformed to 
 the cloister rules, and even learned to read and 
 write." 
 
 " To read and write ! " exclaimed Le Balafrd, 
 who was one of that sort of people who think all 
 knowledge is miraculous which chances to exceed 
 their own " To write, say'st thou, and to read ! 
 I cannot believe it never Durward could write his 
 name that ever I heard of, nor Lesly either. I can 
 answer for one of them I can no more write than 
 I can fly. Now, in Saint Louis's name, how did 
 they teach it you ? " 
 
 " It was troublesome at first," said Durward, 
 " but became more easy by use ; and I was weak 
 with my wounds and loss of blood, and desirous to 
 gratify my preserver, Father Peter, and so I was 
 the more easily kept to my task. But after several 
 months' languishing, my good kind mother died, 
 and as my health was now fully restored, T com- 
 municated to my benefactor, who was also Sub- 
 Prior of the Convent, my reluctance to take the 
 vows ; and it was agreed between us, since my voca- 
 tion lay not to the cloister, that I should be sent 
 
72 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 out into the world to seek my fortune, and that, to 
 save the Sub-Prior from the anger of the Ogilvies, 
 my departure should have the appearance of flight ; 
 and to colour it, I brought off the Abbot's hawk 
 with me. But I was regularly dismissed, as will 
 appear from the hand and seal of the Abbot 
 himself." 
 
 " That is right that is well," said his uncle. 
 " Our King cares little what other theft thou mayst 
 have made, but hath a horror at any thing like a 
 breach of the cloister. And, I warrant thee, thou 
 hadst no great treasure to bear thy charges ? " 
 
 "Only a few pieces of silver," said the youth; 
 " for to you, fair uncle, I must make a free 
 confession." 
 
 "Alas ! " replied Le Balafre*, " that is hard. Now, 
 though I am never a hoarder of my pay, because it 
 doth ill to bear a charge about one in these perilous 
 times, yet I always have (and I would advise you 
 to follow my example) some odd gold chain, or 
 bracelet, or carcanet, that serves for the ornament 
 of my person, and can at need spare a superfluous 
 link or two, or it may be a superfluous stone for 
 sale, that can answer any immediate purpose. But 
 you may ask, fair kinsman, how you are to come 
 by such toys as this ? " (he shook his chain with 
 complacent triumph) " They hang not on every 
 bush they grow not in the fields like the daffodils, 
 with whose stalks children make knights' collars. 
 What then ? you may get such where I got this, 
 in the service of the good King of France, where 
 there is always wealth to be found, if a man has 
 but the heart to seek it, at the risk of a little life 
 or so." 
 
 " I understood," said Quentin, evading' a -deci- 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. t 73 
 
 sion to which he felt himself as yet scarcely com- 
 petent, "that the Duke of Burgundy keeps a more 
 noble state than the King of France, and that there 
 is more honour to be won under his banners that 
 good blows are struck there, and deeds of arms 
 done ; while the Most Christian King, they say, 
 gains his victories by his ambassadors' tongues." 
 
 "You speak like a foolish boy, fair nephew," 
 answered he with the Scar; "and yet, I bethink 
 me, when I came hither I was nearly as simple : I 
 could never think of a King but what I supposed 
 him either sitting under the high deas, and feasting 
 amid his high vassals and Paladins, eating blanc- 
 manger, with a great gold crown upon his head, or 
 else charging at the head of his troops like Char- 
 lemagne in the romaunts, or like Kobert Bruce or 
 William Wallace in our own true histories, such 
 as Barbour and the Minstrel. Hark in thine ear, 
 man it is all moonshine in the water. Policy 
 policy does it all. But what is policy, you will 
 say ? It is an art this French King of ours has 
 found out, to fight with other men's swords, and to 
 wage his soldiers out of other men's purses. Ah ! 
 it is the wisest Prince that ever put purple on his 
 back and yet he weareth not much of that neither 
 I see him often go plainer than I would think 
 befitted me to do." 
 
 "But you meet not my exception, fair uncle," 
 answered young Durward ; " I would serve, since 
 serve I must in a foreign land, somewhere where a 
 brave deed, were it my hap to do one, might work 
 me a name." 
 
 " I understand you, my fair nephew," said the 
 royal man-at-arms, " I understand you passing well ; 
 but you are unripe in these matters. The Duke of 
 
U QTJENTIN DURWABD. 
 
 Burgundy is a hot-brained, impetuous, pudding- 
 headed, iron-ribbed dare-all. He charges at the head 
 of his nobles and native knights, his liegemen of 
 Artois and Hainault ; think you, if you were there, 
 or if I were there myself, that we could be much 
 farther forward than the Duke and all his brave 
 nobles of his own land ? If we were not up with 
 them, we had a chance to be turned on the Provost- 
 Marshal's hands, for being slow in making to ; if we 
 were abreast of them, all would be called well, and 
 we might be thought to have deserved our pay ; 
 and grant that I was a spear's-length or so in the 
 front, which is both difficult and dangerous in such 
 a melee where all do their best, why, my lord duke 
 says, in his Flemish tongue, when he sees a good 
 blow struck, ' Ha ! gut getroffen ! a good lance a 
 brave Scot give him a florin to drink our health ; ' 
 but neither rank, nor lands, nor treasures, come to 
 the stranger in such a service all goes to the 
 children of the soil." 
 
 " And where should it go, in Heaven's name, 
 fair uncle ? " demanded young Durward. 
 
 " To him that protects the children of the soil," 
 said Balafre, drawing up his gigantic height. " Thus 
 says King Louis : ' My good French peasant 
 mine honest Jacques Bonhomme get you to your 
 tools, your plough and your harrow, your pruning- 
 knife and your hoe here is my gallant Scot that 
 will fight for you, and you shall only have the 
 trouble to pay him And you, my most serene 
 duke, my illustrious count, and my most mighty 
 marquis, e'en rein up your fiery courage till it is 
 wanted, for it is apt to start out of the course, and 
 to hurt its master ; here are my companies of ordo- 
 nance here are my French Guards here are. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 75 
 
 above all, my Scottish Archers, and mine honest 
 Ludovic with the Scar, who will fight, as well or 
 better than you, with all that undisciplined valour, 
 which, in your father's time, lost Cressy and Azin- 
 cour.' Now, see you not in which of these states a 
 cavalier of fortune holds the highest rank, and must 
 come to the highest honour ? " 
 
 " I think I understand you, fair uncle," answered 
 the nephew ; " but, in my mind, honour cannot be 
 won where there is no risk. Sure, this is I pray 
 you pardon me an easy and almost slothful life, 
 to mount guard round an elderly man whom no one 
 thinks of harming, to spend summer-day and winter- 
 night up in yonder battlements, and shut up all the 
 while in iron cages, for fear you should desert your 
 posts uncle, uncle, it is but the hawk upon his 
 perch, who is never carried out to the fields ! " 
 
 "Now, by Saint Martin of Tours, the boy has 
 some spirit ! a right touch of the Lesly in Him ; 
 much like myself, though always with a little more 
 folly in it. Hark ye, youth Long live the King 
 of France ! scarce a day but there is some com- 
 mission in hand, by which some of his followers 
 may win both coin and credit. Think not that the 
 bravest and most dangerous deeds are done by day- 
 light. I could tell you of some, as scaling castles, 
 making prisoners, and the like, where one who shall 
 be nameless hath run higher risk, and gained greater 
 favour, than any desperado in the train of desperate 
 Charles of Burgundy. And if it please his Majesty 
 to remain behind, and in the background, while 
 such things are doing, he hath the more leisure of 
 spirit to admire, and the more liberality of hand 
 to reward the adventurers, whose dangers, perhaps, 
 and whose feats of arms, he can better judge of than 
 
76 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 if he had personally shared them. 0, 'tis a sagacious 
 and most politic monarch ! " 
 
 His nephew paused, and then said, in a low but 
 impressive tone of voice, " The good Father Peter 
 used often to teach me there might be much danger 
 in deeds by which little glory was acquired. I need 
 not say to you, fair uncle, that I do in course sup- 
 pose that these secret commissions must needs be 
 honourable." 
 
 "For whom or for what take you me, fair 
 nephew ? " said Balafrd, somewhat sternly ; " I have 
 not been trained, indeed, in the cloister, neither can 
 I write nor read. But I am your mother's brother ; 
 I am a loyal Lesly. Think you that I am like to 
 recommend to you any thing unworthy ? The best 
 knight in France, Du Guesclin himself, if he were 
 alive again, might be proud to number my deeds 
 among his achievements." 
 
 " I cannot doubt your warranty, fair uncle," said 
 the youth ; " you are the only adviser my mishap 
 has left me. But is it true, as fame says, that this 
 King keeps a meagre Court here at his Castle of 
 Plessis ? No repair of nobles or courtiers, none of 
 his grand feudatories in attendance, none of the high 
 officers of the crown ; half solitary sports, shared 
 only with the menials of his household ; secret 
 councils, to which only low and obscure men are 
 invited ; rank and nobility depressed, and men raised 
 from the lowest origin to the kingly favour all 
 this seems unregulated, resembles not the manners 
 of his father, the noble Charles, who tore from the 
 fangs of the English lion this more than half 
 conquered kingdom of France." 
 
 " You speak like a giddy child," said Le Balafre* ; 
 * and even as a child, you harp over the same 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 7? 
 
 notes on a new string. Look you : if the King 
 employs Oliver Dain, (k) his barber, to do what 
 Oliver can do better than any peer of them all, is 
 not the kingdom the gainer? If he bids his stout 
 Provost-Marshal, Tristan, arrest such or such a 
 seditious burgher, take off such or such a turbulent 
 noble, the deed is done and no more of it ; when, were 
 the commission given to a duke or peer of France, 
 he might perchance send the King back a defiance 
 in exchange. If, again, the King pleases to give to 
 plain Ludovic le Balafre* a commission which he will 
 execute, instead of employing the High Constable, 
 who would perhaps betray it, doth it not show 
 wisdom ? Above all, doth not a monarch of such 
 conditions best suit cavaliers of fortune, who must 
 go where their services are most highly prized, and 
 most frequently in demand ? No, no, child, I tell 
 thee Louis knows how to choose his confidants, and 
 what to charge them with ; suiting, as . they say, 
 the burden to each man's back v He is not like the 
 King of Castile, who choked of thirst, because the 
 great butler was not beside to hand his cup. But 
 hark to the bell of Saint Martin's ! I must hasten 
 back to the Castle. Farewell make much of 
 yourself, and at eight to-morrow morning present 
 yourself before the drawbridge, and ask the sentinel 
 for me. Take heed you step not off the straight 
 and beaten path in approaching the portal ! There 
 are such traps and snap-haunches as may cost you 
 a limb, which you will sorely miss. You shall see 
 the King, and learn to judge him for yourself 
 farewell." 
 
 So saying, Balafre* hastily departed, forgetting, 
 in his hurry, to pay for the wine he had called for, 
 a shortness of memory incidental to persons of his 
 
78 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 description, and which his host, overawed, perhaps, 
 by the nodding bonnet and ponderous two-handed 
 sword, did not presume to use any efforts for 
 correcting. 
 
 It might have been expected that, when left alone, 
 Durward would have again betaken himself to his 
 turret, in order to watch for the repetition of those 
 delicious sounds which had soothed his morning 
 reverie. But that was a chapter of romance, and his 
 uncle's conversation had opened to him a page of 
 the real history of life. It was no pleasing one, and 
 for the present the recollections and reflections 
 which it excited, were qualified to overpower other 
 thoughts, and especially all of a light and soothing 
 nature. 
 
 Quentin resorted to a solitary walk along the 
 banks of the rapid Cher, having previously enquired 
 of his landlord for one which he might traverse 
 without fear of disagreeable interruption from snares 
 and pitfalls, and there endeavoured to compose his 
 turmoiled and scattered thoughts, and consider 
 his future motions, upon which his meeting with 
 his uncle had thrown some dubiety. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE BOHEMIANS. 
 
 Sae rantingly, sae wantonly, 
 
 Sae dauntingly gaed he, 
 He play'd a spring and danced a round 
 
 Beneath the gallows-tree ! 
 
 Old Song. 
 
 The manner in which Quentin Durward had been 
 educated, was not of a kind to soften the heart, or 
 perhaps to improve the moral feeling. He, with 
 the rest of his family, had been trained to the chase 
 as an amusement, and taught to consider war as 
 their only serious occupation, and that it was the 
 great duty of their lives stubbornly to endure, and 
 fiercely to retaliate, the attacks of their feudal ene- 
 mies, by whom their race had been at last almost 
 annihilated. And yet there mixed with these feuds 
 a spirit of rude chivalry, and even courtesy, which 
 softened their rigour ; so that revenge, their only 
 justice, was still prosecuted with some regard to 
 humanity and generosity. The lessons of the worthy 
 old monk, better attended to, perhaps, during a long 
 illness and adversity, than they might have been in 
 health and success, had given young Durward still 
 farther insight into the duties of humanity towards 
 others; and, considering the ignorance of the period, 
 the general prejudices entertained in favour of a 
 military life, and the manner in which he himself 
 had been bred, the youth was disposed to feel more 
 
8o QUENTIN DURWATtD. 
 
 accurately the moral duties incumbent on his station 
 than was usual at the time. 
 
 He reflected on his interview with his uncle with 
 a sense of embarrassment and disappointment. His 
 hopes had been high ; for although intercourse by- 
 letters was out of the question, yet a pilgrim, or an 
 adventurous trafficker, or a crippled soldier, some- 
 times brought Lesly's name to Glen-houlakin, and 
 all united in praising his undaunted courage, and 
 his success in many petty enterprises which his 
 master had intrusted to him. Quentin's imagina- 
 tion had filled up the sketch in his own way, and 
 assimilated his successful and adventurous uncle 
 (whose exploits probably lost nothing in the tell- 
 ing) to some of the champions and knights-errant of 
 whom minstrels sang, and who won crowns and 
 kings' daughters by dint of sword and lance. He 
 was now compelled to rank his kinsman greatly 
 lower in the scale of chivalry ; but blinded by the 
 high respect paid to parents, and those who ap- 
 proach that character moved by every early pre- 
 judice in his favour inexperienced besides, and 
 passionately attached to his mother's memory, he 
 saw not, in the only brother of that dear relation, 
 the character he truly held, which was that of an 
 ordinary mercenary soldier, neither much worse nor 
 greatly better than many of the same profession 
 whose presence added to the distracted state of 
 France. 
 
 Without being wantonly cruel, Le Balafre* was, 
 from habit, indifferent to human life and human 
 suffering; he was profoundly ignorant, greedy of 
 booty, unscrupulous how he acquired it, and pro- 
 fuse in expending it on the gratification of his pas- 
 sions. The habit of attending exclusively to his 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 81 
 
 own wants and interests, had converted him into 
 one of the most selfish animals in the world ; so 
 that he was seldom able, as the reader may have 
 remarked, to proceed far in any subject without 
 considering how it applied to himself, or, as it is 
 called, making the case his own, though not upon 
 feelings connected with the golden rule, but such as 
 were very different. To this must be added, that 
 the narrow round of his duties and his pleasures 
 had gradually circumscribed his thoughts, hopes, 
 and wishes, and quenched in a great measure the 
 wild spirit of honour, and desire of distinction in 
 arms, by which his youth had been once animated. 
 Balafre' was, in short, a keen soldier, hardened, 
 selfish, and narrow-minded ; active and bold in the 
 discharge of his duty, but acknowledging few ob- 
 jects beyond it, except the formal observance of a 
 careless devotion, relieved by an occasional debauch 
 with brother Boniface, his comrade and confessor. 
 Had his genius been of a more extended character 
 he would probably have been promoted to some 
 important command, for the King, who knew every 
 soldier of his body-guard personally, reposed much 
 confidence in Balafr^'s courage and fidelity ; and, 
 besides, the Scot had either wisdom or cunning 
 enough perfectly to understand, and ably to humour, 
 the peculiarities of that sovereign. Still, however, 
 his capacity was too much limited to admit of his 
 rising to higher rank, and though smiled on and 
 favoured by Louis on many occasions, Balafre' con- 
 tinued a mere Life-guards-man, or Scottish Archer. 
 
 Without seeing the full scope of his uncle's char- 
 acter, Quentin felt shocked at his indifference to 
 the disastrous extirpation of his brother-in-law's 
 whole family, and could not help being surprised, 
 
 VOL. J. 6 
 
82 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 moreover, that so near a relative had not offered 
 him the assistance of his purse, which, but for the 
 generosity of Maitre Pierre, he would have been 
 under the necessity of directly craving from him. 
 He wronged his uncle, however, in supposing that 
 this want of attention to his probable necessities 
 was owing to avarice. Not precisely needing money 
 himself at that moment, it had not occurred to 
 Balafre that his nephew might be in exigencies , 
 otherwise, he held a near kinsman so much a part of 
 himself, that he would have provided for the weal 
 of the living nephew, as he endeavoured to do for 
 that of his deceased sister and her husband. But 
 whatever was the motive, the neglect was very un- 
 satisfactory to young Durward, and he wished more 
 than once he had taken service with the Duke of 
 Burgundy before he quarrelled with his forester. 
 " Whatever had then become of me," he thought 
 to himself, " I should always have been able to keep 
 up my spirits with the reflection, that I had, in case 
 of the worst, a stout back-friend in this uncle of 
 mine. But now I have seen him, and, woe worth 
 him, there has been 'more help in a mere mechanical 
 stranger, than .1 have found in my own mother's 
 brother, my countryman and a cavalier ! One would 
 think the slash, that has carved all comeliness out 
 of his face, had let at the same time every drop of 
 gentle blood out of his body." 
 
 Durward now regretted he had not had an oppor- 
 tunity to mention Maitre Pierre to Le Balafre, in 
 the hope of obtaining some farther account of 
 that personage ; but his uncle's questions had fol- 
 lowed fast on each other, and the summons of the 
 great bell of Saint Martin of Tours had broken off 
 their conference rather suddenly. That old man, 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 83 
 
 he thought to himself, was crabbed and dogged in 
 appearance, sharp and scornful in language, but 
 generous and liberal in his actions ; and such a 
 stranger is worth a cold kinsman "What says 
 our old Scottish proverb? 'Better kind fremit, 
 than fremit kindred. ' l I will find out that man, 
 which, methinks, should be no difficult task, since 
 he is so wealthy as mine host bespeaks him. He 
 will give me good advice for my governance, at 
 least ; and if he goes to strange countries, as many 
 such do, I know not but his may be as adventurous 
 a service as that of those Guards of Louis." 
 
 As Quentin framed this thought, a whisper from 
 those recesses of the heart in which lies much that 
 the owner does not know of, or will not acknow- 
 ledge willingly, suggested that, perchance, the lady 
 of the turret, she of the veil and lute, might share 
 that adventurous journey. 
 
 As the Scottish youth made these reflections, he 
 met two grave-looking men, apparently citizens of 
 Tours, whom, doffing his cap with the reverence 
 due from youth to age, he respectfully asked to 
 direct him to the house of Maitre Pierre. 
 
 * The house of whom, my fair son ? " said one of 
 the passengers. 
 
 " Of Maitre Pierre, the great silk merchant, who 
 planted all the mulberry trees in the park yonder," 
 said Durward. 
 
 " Young man," said one of them who was near- 
 est to him, " you have taken up an idle trade a 
 little too early." 
 
 1 Better kind strangers than estranged kindred. The motto is 
 engraved on a dirk, belonging to a person who had but too much 
 reason to choose such a device. It was left by him to my father, 
 and is connected with a strange course of adventures, which may 
 one day be told. The weapon is now in my possession. 
 
84 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 " And have chosen wrong subjects to practise 
 your fooleries upon," said the farther one, still more 
 gruffly. "The Syndic of Tours is not accustomed 
 to be thus talked to by strolling jesters from foreign 
 parts." 
 
 Quentin was so much surprised at the causeless 
 offence which these two decent-looking persons had 
 taken at a very simple and civil question, that he 
 forgot to be angry at the rudeness of their reply, 
 and stood staring after them as they walked on 
 with amended pace, often looking back at him, as 
 if they were desirous to get as soon as possible out 
 of his reach. 
 
 He next met a party of vine-dressers, and ad- 
 dressed to them the same question ; and, in reply, 
 they demanded to know whether he wanted Maitre 
 Pierre, the schoolmaster ? or Maitre Pierre, the 
 carpenter ? or Maitre Pierre, the beadle ? or half-a- 
 dozen of Maitre Pierres besides. When none of 
 these corresponded with the description of the per- 
 son after whom he enquired, the peasants accused 
 him of jesting with them impertinently, and threat- 
 ened to fall upon him and beat him, in guerdon of 
 his raillery. The oldest amongst them, who had 
 some influence over the rest, prevailed on them to 
 desist from violence. 
 
 " You see by his speech and his fool's cap," said 
 he, " that he is one of the foreign mountebanks who 
 are come into the country, and whom some call 
 magicians and soothsayers, and some jugglers, and 
 the like, and there is no knowing what tricks they 
 have amongst them. I have heard of such a one 
 paying a Hard to eat his bellyful of grapes in a poor 
 man's vineyard; and he ate as many as would have 
 loaded a wain, and never undid a button of his 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 85 
 
 jerkin and so let him pass quietly, and keep his 
 way, as we will keep ours. And you, friend, if you 
 would shun worse, walk quietly on, in the name of 
 God, our Lady of Marmoutier, and Saint Martin of 
 Tours, and trouble us no more about your Maitre 
 Pierre, which may be another name for the devil, 
 for aught we know." 
 
 The Scot, finding himself much the weaker party, 
 judged it his wisest course to walk on without 
 reply ; but the peasants, who at first shrunk from 
 him in horror, at his supposed talents for sorcery 
 and grape-devouring, took heart of grace as he got 
 to a distance, and having uttered a few cries and 
 curses, finally gave them emphasis with a shower 
 of stones, although at such a distance as to do little 
 or no harm to the object of their displeasure. 
 Quentin, as he pursued his walk, began to think, 
 in his turn, either that he himself lay under a spell, 
 or that the people of Touraine were the most stupid, 
 brutal, and inhospitable of the French peasants. 
 The next incident which came under his observa- 
 tion did not tend to diminish this opinion. 
 
 On a slight eminence, rising above the rapid and 
 beautiful Cher, in the direct line of his path, two 
 or three large chestnut trees were so happily placed 
 as to form a distinguished and remarkable group ; 
 and beside them stood three or four peasants, mo- 
 tionless, with their eyes turned upwards, and fixed, 
 apparently, upon some object amongst the branches 
 of the tree next to them. The meditations of youth 
 are seldom so profound as not to yield to the slight- 
 est impulse of curiosity, as easily as the lightest 
 pebble, dropped casually from the hand, breaks the 
 surface of a limpid pool. Quentin hastened his 
 pace, and ran lightly up the rising ground, time 
 
86 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 enough to witness the ghastly spectacle which at- 
 tracted the notice of these gazers which was noth- 
 ing less than the body of a man, convulsed by the 
 last agony, suspended on one of the branches. 
 
 " Why do you not cut him down ? " said the 
 young Scot, whose hand was as ready to assist 
 affliction, as to maintain his own honour when he 
 deemed it assailed. 
 
 One of the peasants, turning on him an eye from 
 which fear had banished all expression but its own, 
 and a face as pale as clay, pointed to a mark cut 
 upon the bark of the tree, having the same rude 
 resemblance to a fleur-de-lys which certain talis- 
 manic scratches, well known to our revenue officers, 
 bear to a broad arrow. Neither understanding nor 
 heeding the import of this symbol, young Durward 
 sprung lightly as the ounce up into the tree, drew 
 from his pouch that most necessary implement of a 
 Highlander or woodsman, the trusty skene dhu, l 
 and, calling to those below to receive the body on 
 their hands, cut the rope asunder in less than a 
 minute after he had perceived the exigency. 
 
 But his humanity was ill seconded by the by- 
 standers. So far from rendering Durward any 
 assistance, they seemed terrified at the audacity of 
 his action, and took to flight with one consent, as 
 if they feared their merely looking on might have 
 been construed into accession to his daring deed. 
 The body, unsupported from beneath, fell heavily 
 to earth, in such a manner, that Quentin, who pres- 
 ently afterwards jumped down, had the mortification 
 to see that the last sparks of life were extinguished. 
 
 1 Black knife; a species of knife without clasp or hinge, for- 
 merly much used by the Highlanders, who seldom travelled with 
 out such an ugly weapon, though it is now rarely used. 
 
QUENTIN DURWAftD. 87 
 
 He gave not up his charitable purpose, however, 
 without farther efforts. He freed the wretched 
 man's neck from the fatal noose, undid the doublet, 
 threw water on the face, and practised the other 
 ordinary remedies resorted to for recalling sus- 
 pended animation 
 
 While he was thus humanely engaged, a wild 
 clamour of tongues, speaking a language which he 
 knew not, arose around him ; and he had scarcely 
 time to observe that he was surrounded by several 
 men and women of a singular and foreign appear- 
 ance, when he found himself roughly seized by both 
 arms, while a naked knife, at the same moment, 
 was offered to his throat. 
 
 " Pale slave of Eblis ! " said a man, in imperfect 
 French, " are you robbing him you have murdered ? 
 But we have you and you shall aby it." 
 
 There were knives drawn on every side of him 
 as these words were spoken, and the grim and dis- 
 torted countenances which glared on him, were like 
 those of wolves rushing on their prey. 
 
 Still the young Scot's courage and presence of 
 mind bore him out. " What mean ye, my mas- 
 ters ? " he said ; " if that be your friend's body, I 
 have just now cut him down, in pure charity, and 
 you will do better to try to recover his life, than to 
 misuse an innocent stranger to whom he owes his 
 chance of escape." 
 
 The women had by this time taken possession of 
 the dead body, and continued the attempts to re- 
 cover animation which Durward had been making 
 use of, though with the like bad success ; so that, 
 desisting from their fruitless efforts, they seemed 
 to abandon themselves to all the Oriental expres- 
 sions of grief ; the women making a piteous wailing, 
 
88 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 and tearing their long black hair, while the men 
 seemed to rend their garments, and to sprinkle 
 dust upon their heads. They gradually became so 
 much engaged in their mourning rites, that they 
 bestowed no longer any attention on Durward, of 
 whose innocence they were probably satisfied from 
 circumstances. It would certainly have been his 
 wisest plan to have left these wild people to their 
 own courses, but he had been bred in almost reck- 
 less contempt of danger, and felt all the eagerness 
 of youthful curiosity. 
 
 The singular assemblage, both male and female, 
 wore turbans and caps, more similar, in general ap- 
 pearance, to his own bonnet, than to the hats com- 
 monly worn in France. Several of the men had 
 curled black beards, and the complexion of all was 
 nearly as dark as that of Africans. One or two, 
 who seemed their chiefs, had some tawdry orna- 
 ments of silver about their necks and in their ears, 
 and wore showy scarfs of yellow, or scarlet, or 
 light green ; but their legs and arms were bare, 
 and the whole troop seemed wretched and squalid 
 in appearance. There were no weapons among 
 them that Durward saw, except the long knives 
 with which they had lately menaced him, and one 
 short crooked sabre, or Moorish sword, which was 
 worn by an active-looking young man, who often 
 laid his hand upon the hilt, while he surpassed the 
 rest of the party in his extravagant expressions of 
 grief, and seemed to mingle with them threats of 
 vengeance. 
 
 The disordered and yelling group were so differ- 
 ent in appearance from any beings whom Quentin 
 had yet seen, that he was on the point of concluding 
 them to be a party of Saracens, of those " heathen 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 89 
 
 hounds," who were the opponents of gentle knights 
 and Christian monarchs, in all the romances which 
 he had heard or read, and was about to withdraw 
 himself from a neighbourhood so perilous, when a 
 galloping of horse was heard, and the supposed Sa- 
 racens, who had raised by this time the body of 
 their comrade upon their shoulders, were at once 
 charged by a party of French soldiers. 
 
 This sudden apparition changed the measured 
 wailing of the mourners into irregular shrieks of 
 terror. The body was thrown to the ground in an 
 instant, and those who were around it, showed the 
 utmost and most dexterous activity in escaping, 
 under the bellies as it were of the horses, from the 
 point of the lances which were levelled at them, 
 with exclamations of "Down with the accursed 
 heathen thieves take and kill bind them like 
 beasts spear them like wolves ! " 
 
 These cries were accompanied with correspond- 
 ing acts of violence ; but such was the alertness of 
 the fugitives, the ground being rendered unfavour- 
 able to the horsemen by thickets and bushes, that 
 only two were struck down and made prisoners, 
 one of whom was the young fellow with the sword, 
 who had previously offered some resistance. Quen- 
 tin, whom fortune seemed at this period to have 
 chosen for the butt of her shafts, was at the same 
 time seized by the soldiers, and his arms, in spite 
 of his remonstrances, bound down with a cord; 
 those who apprehended him showing a readiness 
 and dispatch in the operation, which proved them 
 to be no novices in matters of police. 
 
 Looking anxiously to the leader of the horse- 
 men, from whom he hoped to obtain liberty, Quentin 
 knew not exactly whether to be pleased or alarmed 
 
9 o QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 upon recognising in him the down-looking and 
 silent companion of Maitre Pierre. True, what- 
 ever crime these strangers might be accused of, 
 this officer might know, from the history of the 
 morning, that he, Durward, had no connexion with 
 them whatever ; but it was a more difficult ques- 
 tion, whether this sullen man would be either a 
 favourable judge or a willing witness in his behalf, 
 and he felt doubtful whether he would mend his 
 condition by making any direct application to him. 
 
 But there was little leisure for hesitation. " Trois- 
 Eschelles and Petit-Andre'," said the down-look- 
 ing officer to two of his band, " these same trees 
 stand here quite convenient. I will teach these 
 misbelieving, thieving sorcerers, to interfere with 
 the King's justice, when it has visited any of 
 their accursed race. Dismount, my children, and 
 do your office briskly." 
 
 Trois-Eschelles and Petit- Andre* were, in an 
 instant on foot, and Quentin observed that they had 
 each, at the crupper and pommel of his saddle, a 
 coil or two of ropes, which they hastily undid, and 
 showed that, in fact, each coil formed a halter, with 
 the fatal noose adjusted, ready for execution. The 
 blood ran cold in Quentin's veins, when he saw 
 three cords selected, and perceived that it was pro- 
 posed to put one around his own neck. He called 
 on the officer loudly, reminded him of their meet- 
 ing that morning, claimed the right of a free-born 
 Scotsman, in a friendly and allied country, and 
 denied any knowledge of the persons along with 
 whom he was seized, or of their misdeeds. 
 
 The officer whom Durward thus addressed, scarce 
 deigned to look at him while he was speaking, 
 and took no notice whatever of the claim he 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 91 
 
 preferred to prior acquaintance. He barely turned 
 to one or two of the peasants who were now come 
 forward, either to volunteer their evidence against 
 the prisoners, or out of curiosity, and said gruffly, 
 " Was yonder young fellow with the vagabonds ? " 
 
 "That he was, sir, and it please your noble 
 Provostship," answered one of the clowns ; " he' was 
 the very first blasphemously to cut down the rascal 
 whom his Majesty's justice most deservedly hung 
 up, as we told your worship." 
 
 " I'll swear by God, and Saint Martin of Tours, 
 to have seen him with their gang," said another, 
 "when they pillaged our metairie." 
 
 " Nay, but, father," said a boy, " yonder heathen 
 was black, and this youth is fair ; yonder one had 
 short curled hair, and this hath long fair locks." 
 
 " Ay, child," said the peasant, " and perhaps you 
 will say yonder one had a green coat and this a grey 
 jerkin. But his worship, the Provost, knows that 
 they can change their complexions as easily as their 
 jerkins, so that I am still minded he was the same." 
 
 " It is enough that you have seen him intermeddle 
 with the course of the King's justice, by attempting 
 to recover an executed traitor," said the officer. 
 " Trois-Eschelles and Petit- Andre*, dispatch." 
 
 " Stay, signior officer ! " exclaimed the youth, in 
 mortal agony " hear me speak let me not die 
 guiltlessly my blood will be required of you by my 
 countrymen in this world, and by Heaven's justice 
 in that which is to follow." 
 
 " I will answer for my actions in both," said the 
 Provost, coldly ; and made a sign with his left hand 
 to the executioners ; then, with a smile of triumph- 
 ant malice, touched with his forefinger his right arm, 
 which hung suspended in a scarf, disabled probably 
 
92 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 by the blow which Durward had dealt him that 
 morning. 
 
 " Miserable, vindictive wretch ! " answered Quen- 
 tin, persuaded by that action that private revenge 
 was the sole motive of this man's rigour, and that 
 no mercy whatever was to be expected from him. 
 
 " The poor youth raves," said the functionary ; 
 " speak a word of comfort to him ere he make his 
 transit, Trois-Eschelles ; thou art a comfortable man 
 in such cases, when a confessor is not to be had. 
 Give him one minute of ghostly advice, and dispatch 
 matters in the next. I must proceed on the rounds. 
 Soldiers, follow me ! " 
 
 The Provost rode on, followed by his guard, 
 excepting two or three who were left to assist in the 
 execution. The unhappy youth cast after him an 
 eye almost darkened by despair, and thought he 
 heard, in every tramp of his horse's retreating hoofs, 
 the last slight chance of his safety vanish. He 
 looked around him in agony, and was surprised, even 
 in that moment, to see the stoical indifference of his 
 fellow-prisoners. They had previously testified 
 every sign of fear, and made every effort to escape ; 
 but now, when secured, and destined apparently 
 to inevitable death, they awaited its arrival with 
 the utmost composure. The scene of fate before 
 them gave, perhaps, a more yellow tinge to their 
 swarthy cheeks ; but it neither agitated their fea- 
 tures, nor quenched the stubborn haughtiness of 
 their eye. They seemed like foxes, which, after 
 all their wiles and artful attempts at escape are 
 exhausted, die with a silent and sullen fortitude, 
 which wolves and bears, the fiercer objects of the 
 chase, do not exhibit. 
 
 They were undaunted by the conduct of the fatal 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 93 
 
 executioners, who went about their work with more 
 deliberation than their master had recommended, 
 and which probably arose from their having ac- 
 quired by habit a kind of pleasure in the discharge 
 of their horrid office. We pause an instant to de- 
 scribe them, because, under a tyranny, whether 
 despotic or popular, the character of the hangman 
 becomes a subject of grave importance. 
 
 These functionaries were essentially different in 
 their appearance and manners. Louis used to call 
 them Democritus and Heraclitus, and their master, 
 the Provost, termed them, Jean-qui-pleure, and 
 Jean-qui-rit. 
 
 Trois-Eschelles was a tall, thin, ghastly man, with 
 a peculiar gravity of visage, and a large rosary round 
 his neck, the use of which he was accustomed piously 
 to offer to those sufferers on whom he did his duty. 
 He had one or two Latin texts continually in his 
 mouth on the nothingness and vanity of human life ; 
 and, had it been regular to have enjoyed such a 
 plurality, he might have held the office of confessor 
 to the jail in commendam with that of executioner. 
 Petit-Andre\ on the contrary, was a joyous-looking, 
 round, active, little fellow, who rolled about in exe- 
 cution of his duty as if it were the .most diverting 
 occupation in the world. He seemed to have a sort 
 of fond affection for his victims, and always spoke 
 of them in kindly and affectionate terms. They 
 were his poor honest fellows, his pretty dears, his 
 gossips, his good old fathers, as their age or sex 
 might be ; and as Trois-Eschelles endeavoured to 
 inspire them with a philosophical or religious 
 regard to futurity, Petit-Andre' seldom failed to 
 refresh them with a jest or two, as if to induce 
 them to pass from life as something that was ludi- 
 
94 QTJENTIN DTJRWARD. 
 
 crous, contemptible, and not worthy of serious 
 consideration. 
 
 I cannot tell why or wherefore it was, but these 
 two excellent persons, notwithstanding the variety 
 of their talents, and the rare occurrence of such 
 among persons of their profession, were both more 
 utterly detested than, perhaps, any creatures of their 
 kind, whether before or since ; and the only doubt 
 of those who knew aught of them was, whether the 
 grave and pathetic Trois-Eschelles, or the frisky, 
 comic, alert Petit-Andre', was the object of the 
 greatest fear or of the deepest execration. It is 
 certain they bore the palm in both particulars over 
 every hangman in France, unless it were perhaps 
 their master, Tristan l'Hermite, the renowned Pro- 
 vost-Marshal, or his master, Louis XL 1 
 
 It must not be supposed that these reflections 
 were of Quentin Durward's making. Life, death, 
 time, and eternity, were swimming before his eyes 
 a stunning and overwhelming prospect, from 
 which human nature recoiled in its weakness, 
 though human pride would fain have borne up. 
 He addressed himself to the God of his fathers; 
 and when he did so, the little rude and unroofed 
 chapel, which now held almost all his race but him- 
 self, rushed on his recollection. " Our feudal enemies 
 gave my kindred graves in our own land," he 
 thought, " but I must feed the ravens and kites of a 
 
 1 One of these two persons, I learned from the Chrouique de 
 Jean de Troyes, but too late to avail myself of the information, 
 might with more accuracy have been called Petit-Jean, than Petit- 
 Andre. This was actually the name of the son of Henry de 
 Cousin, master executioner of the High Court of Justice. The 
 Constable Saint Paul was executed by him with such dexterity, 
 that the head, when struck off, struck the ground at the same time 
 with the body. This was in 1475. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. ' 95 
 
 foreign land, like an excommunicated felon \ m The 
 tears gushed involuntarily from his eyes. Trois- 
 Eschelles, touching one shoulder, gravely congratu- 
 lated him on his heavenly disposition for death, and 
 pathetically exclaiming, Beati qui in Domino mori- 
 untur, remarked the soul was happy that left 
 the body while the tear was in the eye. Petit- 
 Andre', slapping the other shoulder, called out, 
 "Courage, my fair son! since you must begin the 
 dance, let the ball open gaily, for all the rebecs are 
 in tune," twitching the halter at the same time, to 
 give point to his joke. As the youth turned his dis- 
 mayed looks, first on one and then on the other, they 
 made their meaning plainer by gently urging him 
 forward to the fatal tree, and bidding him be of 
 good courage, for it would be over in a moment. 
 
 In this fatal predicament, the youth cast a dis- 
 tracted look around him. " Is there any good 
 Christian who hears me," he said, " that will tell 
 Ludovic Lesly of the Scottish Guard, called in -this 
 country Le Balafrd, that his nephew is here basely 
 murdered ? " 
 
 The words were spoken in good time, for an 
 Archer of the Scottish Guard, attracted by the pre- 
 parations for the execution, was standing by, with 
 one or two other chance-passengers, to witness what 
 was passing. 
 
 " Take heed what you do," he said to the execu- 
 tioners ; " if this young man be of Scottish birth, I 
 will not permit him to have foul play." 
 
 " Heaven forbid, Sir Cavalier," said Trois-Eschelles ; 
 " but we must obey our orders," drawing Durward for- 
 ward by one arm. 
 
 " The shortest play is ever the fairest," said Petit- 
 Andre', pulling him onward by the other. 
 
96 * QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 But Quen tin had heard words of comfort, and, 
 exerting his strength, he suddenly shook off both 
 the finishers of the law, and, with his arms still 
 bound, ran to the Scottish Archer. " Stand by me, 
 countryman," he said in his own language, " for the 
 love of Scotland and Saint Andrew ! I am innocent 
 I am your own native landsman. Stand by me, 
 as you shall answer at the last day ! " 
 
 "By Saint Andrew! they shall make at you 
 through me," said the Archer, and unsheathed 
 his sword. 
 
 " Cut my bonds, countryman," said Quentin, 
 "and I will do something for myself." 
 
 This was done with a touch of the Archer's 
 weapon ; and the liberated captive, springing sud- 
 denly on one of the Provost's guard, wrested from 
 him a halberd with which he was armed ; " And 
 now," he said, " come on, if you dare ! " 
 
 The two officers whispered together. 
 
 "Kide thou after the Provost-Marshal," said 
 Trois-Eschelles, "and I will detain them here, if 
 I can. Soldiers of the Provost's guard, stand to 
 your arms." 
 
 Petit-Andre* mounted his horse and left the field, 
 and the other Marshals-men in attendance drew 
 together so hastily at the command of Trois- 
 Eschelles, that they suffered the other two prisoners 
 to make their escape during the confusion. Perhaps 
 they were not very anxious to detain them ; for 
 they had of late been sated with the blood of such 
 wretches, and, like other ferocious animals, were, 
 through long slaughter, become tired of carnage. 
 But the pretext was, that they thought themselves 
 immediately called upon to attend to the safety of 
 Trois-Eschelles ; for there was a jealousy, which 
 
QtJENTIN DURWARD. 97 
 
 occasionally led to open quarrels betwixt the Scot- 
 tish Archers and the Marshal-guards, who executed 
 the orders of their Provost. 
 
 " We are strong enough to beat the proud Scots 
 twice over, if it be your pleasure," said one of these 
 soldiers to Trois-Eschelles. 
 
 But that cautious official made a sign to him to 
 remain quiet, and addressed the Scottish Archer 
 with great civility. "Surely, sir, this is a great 
 insult to the Provost-Marshal, that you should 
 presume to interfere with the course of the King's 
 justice, duly and lawfully committed to his charge ; 
 and it is no act of justice to me, who am in lawful 
 possession of my criminal. Neither is it a well- 
 meant kindness to the youth himself, seeing that 
 fifty opportunities of hanging him may occur, 
 without his being found in so happy a state of 
 preparation as he was before your ill-advised 
 interference." 
 
 " If my young countryman," said the Scot, smil- 
 ing, "be of opinion I have done him an injury, I 
 will return him to your charge without a word 
 more dispute." 
 
 " No, no ! for the love of Heaven, no ! " ex- 
 claimed Quentin. " I would rather you swept my 
 head off with your long sword it would better 
 become my birth, than to die by the hands of such 
 a foul churl." 
 
 " Hear how he revileth ! " said the finisher of the 
 law. " Alas ! how soon our best resolutions pass 
 away ! he was in a blessed frame for departure 
 but noW, and in two minutes he has become a 
 contemner of authorities." 
 
 " Tell me at once," said the Archer, " what has 
 this young man done ? " 
 
 VOL. 1. 7 
 
98 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 "Interfered," answered Trois-Eschelles, with 
 some earnestness, " to take down the dead body of 
 a criminal, when the fleur-de-lys was marked on 
 the tree where he was hung with my own proper 
 hand." 
 
 " How is this, young man ? " said the Archer ; 
 "how came you to have committed such an 
 offence ? " 
 
 "As I desire your protection," answered Dur- 
 ward, " I will tell you the truth as if I were at 
 confession. I saw a man struggling on the tree, 
 and I went to cut him down out of mere humanity. 
 I thought neither of fleur-de-lys nor of clove-gilli- 
 flower, and had no more idea of offending the King 
 of France than our. Father the Pope." 
 
 " What a murrain had you to do with the dead 
 body, then ? " said the Archer. " You'll see them 
 hanging, in the rear of this gentleman, like grapes 
 on every tree, and you will have enough to do in 
 this country if you go a-gleaning after the hang- 
 man. However, I will not quit a countryman's 
 cause if I can help it. Hark ye, Master Marshals- 
 man, you see this is entirely a mistake. You should 
 have some compassion on so young a traveller. In 
 our country at home he has not been accustomed 
 to see such active proceedings as yours and your 
 master's." 
 
 " Not for want of need of them, Signior Archer," 
 said Petit-Andre*, who returned at this moment. 
 " Stand fast, Trois-Eschelles, for here comes the 
 Provost-Marshal ; we shall presently see how he 
 will relish having his work taken out of his hand 
 before it is finished." 
 
 " And in good time," said the Archer " here 
 come some of my comrades." 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 99 
 
 Accordingly, as the Provost Tristan rode up with 
 his patrol on one side of the little hill which was 
 the scene of the altercation, four or five Scottish 
 Archers came as hastily up on the other, and at 
 their head the Balafre* himself. 
 
 Upon this urgency, Lesly showed none of that 
 indifference towards his nephew of which Quentin 
 had in his heart accused him ; for he no sooner saw 
 his comrade and Durward standing upon their de- 
 fence, than he exclaimed, "Cunningham, I thank 
 thee. Gentlemen comrades, lend me your aid 
 It is a young Scottish gentleman my nephew 
 Lindesay Guthrie Tyrie, draw, and strike in ! " 
 
 There was now every prospect of a desperate 
 scuffle between the parties, who were not so dis- 
 proportioned in numbers, but that the better arms 
 of the Scottish cavaliers gave them an equal chance 
 of victory. But the Provost-Marshal, either doubt- 
 ing the issue of the conflict, or aware that it would 
 be disagreeable to the King, made a sign to his fol- 
 lowers to forbear from violence, while he demanded 
 of Balafre*, who now put himself forward as the 
 head of the other party, " What he, a cavalier of 
 the King's Body-Guard, purposed by opposing the 
 execution of a criminal ? " 
 
 " I deny that I do so," answered the Balafre\ 
 " Saint Martin ! there is, I think, some difference 
 between the execution of a criminal, and the 
 slaughter of my own nephew ? " 
 
 " Your nephew may be a criminal as well as 
 another, Signor," said the Provost-Marshal ; " and 
 every stranger in France is amenable* to the laws 
 of France." 
 
 " Yes, but we have privileges, we Scottish 
 Archers," said Balafre* ; " have we not, comrades ? " 
 
ioo QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 " Yes, yes," they all exclaimed together. " Priv- 
 ileges privileges ! Long live King Louis long live 
 the bold Balafre* long live the Scottish Guard 
 and death to all who would infringe our privileges ! " 
 
 " Take reason with you, gentlemen cavaliers," said 
 the Provost-Marshal; "consider my commission." 
 
 "We will have no reason at your hand," said 
 Cunningham; " our own officers shall do us reason 
 We will be judged by the King's grace, or by our 
 own Captain, now that the Lord High Constable is 
 not in presence." 
 
 " And we will be hanged by none," said Linde- 
 say, " but Sandie Wilson, the auld Marshals-man of 
 our ain body." 
 
 " It would be a positive cheating of Sandie, who 
 is as honest a man as ever tied noose upon hemp, 
 did we give way to any other proceeding," said the 
 Balafre'. "Were I to be hanged myself, no other 
 should tie tippet about my craig." ' 
 
 "But hear ye," said the Provost-Marshal, "this 
 young fellow belongs not to you, and cannot share 
 what you call your privileges." 
 
 " What we call our privileges, all shall admit to 
 be such," said Cunningham. 
 
 " We will not hear them questioned ! " was the 
 universal cry of the Archers. 
 
 " Ye are mad, my masters," said Tristan l'Hermite 
 " No one disputes your privileges ; but this youth 
 is not one of you." 
 
 "He is my nephew," said the Balafre*, with a 
 triumphant air. 
 
 " But no Archer of the Guard, I think," retorted 
 Tristan l'Hermite. 
 
 The Archers looked on each other in some un- 
 certainty. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. ioj 
 
 " Stand to it yet, comrade," whispered Cunning- 
 ham to Balafre* " Say he is engaged with us.'* 
 
 " Saint Martin ! you say well, fair countryman," 
 answered Lesly ; and, raising his voice, swore that 
 he had that day enrolled his kinsman as one of his 
 own retinue. 
 
 This declaration was a decisive argument. 
 
 " It is well, gentlemen," said the Provost Tristan, 
 who was aware of the King's nervous apprehension 
 of disaffection creeping in among his Guards 
 " You know, as you say, your privileges, and it is 
 not my duty to have brawls with the King's Guards, 
 if it is to be avoided. But I will report this matter 
 for the King's own decision ; and I would have you 
 to be aware, that, in doing so, I act more mildly than 
 perhaps my duty warrants me." 
 
 So saying, he put his troop into motion, while 
 the Archers, remaining on the spot, held a hasty 
 consultation what was next to be done. 
 
 " We must report the matter to Lord Crawford, 
 our Caf tain, in the first place, and have the young 
 fellow's name put on the roll." 
 
 " But, gentlemen, and my worthy friends and 
 preservers," said Quentin, with some hesitation, " I 
 have not yet determined whether to take service 
 with you or no." 
 
 " Then settle in your own mind," said his uncle, 
 " whether you choose to do so, or be hanged - 
 for I promise you, that, nephew of mine as you 
 are, I see no other chance of your 'scaping the 
 gallows." 
 
 This was an unanswerable argument, and reduced 
 Quentin at once to acquiesce in what he might have 
 otherwise considered as no very agreeable proposal ; 
 but the recent escape from the halter, which had 
 
io2 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 been actually around his neck, would probably have 
 reconciled him to a worse alternative than was 
 proposed. 
 
 " He must go home with us to our caserne," said 
 Cunningham; "there is no safety for him out of 
 our bounds, whilst these man-hunters are prowling 
 about." 
 
 "May I not then abide for this night at the 
 hostelry where I breakfasted, fair uncle?" said the 
 youth thinking, perhaps, like many a new recruit, 
 that even a single night of freedom was something 
 gained. 
 
 " Yes, fair nephew," answered his uncle, ironically, 
 " that we may have the pleasure of fishing you out 
 of some canal or moat, or perhaps out of a loop of 
 the Loire, knit up in a sack, for the greater conve- 
 nience of swimming for that is like to be the end 
 on't. The Provost-Marshal smiled on us when we 
 parted," continued he, addressing Cunningham, " and 
 that is a sign his thoughts were dangerous." 
 
 "I care not for his danger," said Cunningham; 
 " such game as we are beyond his bird-bolts. But I 
 would have thee tell the whole to the Devil's 
 Oliver, who is always a good friend to the Scottish 
 Guard, and will see Father Louis before the Provost 
 can, for he is to shave him to-morrow." 
 
 "But hark you," said Balafrd, "it is ill going 
 to Oliver empty-handed, and I am as bare as the 
 birch in December." 
 
 "So are we all," said Cunningham "Oliver 
 must not scruple to take our Scottish words for 
 once. We will make up something handsome among 
 us against the next pay-day ; and if he expects to 
 share, let me tell you, the pay-day will come about 
 all the sooner." 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 103 
 
 " And now for the Chateau," said Balafre* ; "and 
 my nephew shall tell us by the way how he brought 
 the Provost-Marshal on his shoulders, that We may 
 know how to frame our report both to Crawford 
 and Oliver." 
 
 1 Note L Gipsies or Bohemians 
 
CHAPTEK VIL 
 
 THE ENROLMENT. 
 
 Justice of Peace. Here, hand me down the Statute read 
 
 the articles 
 Swear, kiss the book subscribe, and be a hero ; 
 Drawing a portion from the public stock 
 For deeds of valour to be done hereafter 
 Sixpence per day, subsistence and arrears. 
 
 The Recruiting Officer. 
 
 An attendant upon the Archers having been dis- 
 mounted, Quentin Durward was accommodated 
 with his horse, and, in company of his martial coun- 
 trymen, rode at a round pace towards the Castle of 
 Plessis, about to become, although on his own part 
 involuntarily, an inhabitant of that gloomy fortress, 
 the outside of which had, that morning, struck him 
 with so much surprise. 
 
 In the meanwhile, in answer to his uncle's 
 repeated interrogations, he gave him an exact 
 account of the accident which had that morning 
 brought him into so much danger. Although he 
 himself saw nothing in his narrative save what was 
 affecting, he found it was received with much 
 laughter by his escort. 
 
 " And yet it is no good jest either," said his 
 uncle, " for what, in the devil's name, could lead 
 the senseless boy to meddle with the body of a 
 cursed misbelieving Jewish Moorish pagan ? " 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 105 
 
 " Had he quarrelled with the Marshals-men 
 about a pretty wench, as Michael of Moffat did, there 
 had been more sense in it," said Cunningham. 
 
 " But I tfhink it touches our honour, that Tristan 
 and his people pretend to confound our Scottish 
 bonnets with these pilfering vagabonds' tocques and 
 turbands, as they call them," said Lindesay "If 
 they have not eyes to see the difference, they must 
 be taught by rule of hand. But it's my belief, 
 Tristan but pretends to mistake, that he may snap 
 up the kindly Scots that come over to see their 
 kinsfolks." 
 
 " May I ask, kinsman," said Quentin, " what sort 
 of people these are of whom you speak ? " 
 
 " In troth you may ask," said his uncle, " but I 
 know not, fair nephew, who is able to answer you. 
 Not I, I am sure, although I know, it may be, as 
 much as other people ; but they have appeared in 
 this land within a year or two, just as a flight of 
 locusts might do." 1 
 
 " Ay," said Lindesay, " and Jacques Bonhomme, 
 (that is our name for the peasant, young man, 
 you will learn our way of talk in time,) honest 
 Jacques, I say, cares little what wind either brings 
 them or the locusts, so he but knows any gale that 
 would carry them away again." 
 
 " Do they do so much evil ? " asked the young 
 man. 
 
 "Evil? why, boy, they are heathens, or Jews, 
 or Mahommedans at the least, and neither worship 
 Our Lady nor the Saints " (crossing himself ) 
 " and steal what they can lay hands on, and sing, 
 and tell fortunes," added Cunningham. 
 
 "And they say there are some goodly wenches 
 1 See Note L, on the Gipsies or Bohemians. 
 
106 QUENTIN DURWABD. 
 
 amongst these women," said Guthrie ; " but Cun- 
 ningham knows that best." 
 
 " How, brother ! " said Cunningham ; " I trust ye 
 mean me no reproach ? " 
 
 " I am sure I said ye none," answered Guthrie. 
 
 " I will be judged by the company," said Cun- 
 ningham. " Ye said as much as that I, a Scottish 
 gentleman, and living within pale of holy church, 
 had a fair friend among these off-scourings of 
 Heathenesse." 
 
 " Nay, nay," said Balafre*, " he did but jest We 
 will have no quarrels among comrades." 
 
 "We must have no such jesting then," said 
 Cunningham, murmuring as if he had been speak- 
 ing to his own beard. 
 
 " Be there such vagabonds in other lands than 
 France ? " said Lindesay. 
 
 "Ay, in good sooth, are there tribes of them 
 have appeared in Germany, and in Spain, and in 
 England," answered Balafre\ "By the blessing of 
 good Saint Andrew, Scotland is free of them yet." 
 
 "Scotland," said Cunningham, "is too cold a 
 country for locusts, and too poor a country for 
 thieves." 
 
 "Or perhaps John Highlander will suffer no 
 'thieves to thrive there but his own," said Guthrie. 
 
 " I let you all know," said Balafre*, " that T come 
 from the braes of Angus, and have gentle High- 
 land kin in Glen-isla, and I will not have the 
 Highlanders slandered." 
 
 " You will not deny that they are cattle-lifters ? " 
 said Guthrie. 
 
 " To drive a spreagh, or so, is no thievery," said 
 Balafre', " and that I will maintain when and how 
 you dare." 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 107 
 
 " For shame, comrade," said Cunningham, " who 
 quarrels now ? the young man should not see such 
 mad misconstruction. Come, here we are at the 
 Chateau. I will bestow a runlet of wine to have 
 a rouse in friendship, and drink to Scotland, High- 
 land and Lowland both, if you will meet me at 
 dinner at my quarters." 
 
 " Agreed agreed," said Balafre* ; " and I will 
 bestow another, to wash away unkindness, and to 
 drink a health to my nephew on his first entrance 
 to our corps." 
 
 At their approach, the wicket was opened, and 
 the drawbridge fell. One by one they entered ; 
 but when Quentin appeared, the sentinels crossed 
 their pikes, and commanded him to stand, while 
 bows were bent, and harquebusses aimed at him 
 from the walls a rigour of vigilance used, not- 
 withstanding that the young stranger came in com- 
 pany of a party of the garrison, nay, of the very 
 body which furnished the sentinels who were then 
 upon duty. 
 
 Le Balafre*, who had remained by his nephew's 
 side on purpose, gave the necessary explanations, 
 and, after some considerable hesitation and delay, 
 the youth was conveyed under a strong guard to 
 the Lord Crawford's apartment. 
 
 This Scottish nobleman was one of the last rel- 
 ics of the gallant band of Scottish lords and knights 
 who had so long and so truly served Charles VI. 
 in those bloody wars which decided the indepen- 
 dence of the French crown, and the expulsion of the 
 English. He had fought, when a boy, abreast with 
 Douglas and with Buchan, had ridden beneath the 
 banner of the Maid of Arc, and was perhaps one of the 
 last of those associates of Scottish chivalry who had so 
 
io8 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 willingly drawn their swords for the fleur-de-lys, 
 against their " auld enemies of England." Changes 
 which had taken place in the Scottish kingdom, 
 and perhaps his having become habituated to 
 French climate and manners, had induced the old 
 Baron to resign all thoughts of returning to his 
 native country, the rather that the high office 
 which he held in the household of Louis, and his 
 own frank and loyal character, had gained a con- 
 siderable ascendency over the King, who, though 
 in general no ready believer in human virtue or 
 honour, trusted and confided in those of the Lord 
 Crawford, and allowed him the greater influence, 
 because he was never known to interfere except- 
 ing in matters which concerned his charge. 
 
 Balafre' and Cunningham followed Durward and 
 the guard to the apartment of their officer, by whose 
 dignified appearance, as well as with the respect 
 paid to him by these proud soldiers, who seemed to 
 respect no one else, the young man was much and 
 strongly impressed. 
 
 Lord Crawford was tall, and through advanced 
 age had become gaunt and thin; yet retaining in 
 his sinews the strength, at least, if not the elasticity, 
 of youth, he was able to endure the weight of his 
 armour during a march as well as the youngest man 
 who rode in his band. He was hard-favoured, with 
 a scarred and weatherbeaten countenance, and an 
 eye that had looked upon death as his playfellow 
 in thirty pitched battles, but which nevertheless 
 expressed a calm contempt of danger, rather than 
 the ferocious courage of a mercenary soldier. His 
 tall erect figure was at present wrapped in a loose 
 chamber-gown, secured around him by his buff belt, 
 in which was suspended his richly-hilted poniard. 
 
 ' 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 109 
 
 He had round his neck the collar and badge of the 
 order of Saint Michael. He sat upon a couch cov- 
 ered with deer's hide, and with spectacles on his 
 nose, (then a recent invention,) was labouring to 
 read a huge manuscript, called the Rosier de la 
 Guerre, a code of military and civil policy which 
 Louis had compiled for the benefit of his son the 
 Dauphin, and upon which he was desirous to have 
 the opinion of the experienced Scottish warrior. 
 
 Lord Crawford laid his book somewhat peevishly 
 aside upon the entrance of these unexpected visitors, 
 and demanded, in his broad national dialect, * What, 
 in the foul fiend's name, they lacked now ? " 
 
 Le Balafre*, with more respect than perhaps he 
 would have shown to Louis himself, stated at full 
 length the circumstances in which his nephew was 
 placed, and humbly requested his Lordship's pro- 
 tection. Lord Crawford listened very attentively. 
 He could not but smile at the simplicity with 
 which the youth had interfered in behalf of the 
 hanged criminal, but he shook his head at the ac- 
 count which he received of the ruffle betwixt the 
 Scottish Archers and the Provost-Marshal's guard. * 
 
 " How often," he said, " will you bring me such 
 ill-winded pirns to ravel out ? How often must I 
 tell you, and especially both you, Ludovic Lesly, 
 and you, Archie Cunningham, that the foreign sol- 
 dier should bear himself modestly and decorously 
 
 1 Such disputes between the Scots Guards, and the other con- 
 stituted authorities of the ordinary military corps, often occurred. 
 In 1474, two Scotsmen had been concerned in robbing John Pen- 
 sart, a fishmonger, of a large sum of money. They were accord- 
 ingly apprehended by Philip du Four, Provost, with some of his 
 followers. But ere they could lodge one of them, called Mortimer, 
 in the prison of the Chastellet, they were attacked by two Archers of 
 the King's Scottish Guard, who rescued the prisoner. See Chro 
 nique de Jean de Troyes, at the said year, 1474. 
 
no QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 towards the people of the country, if you would not 
 have the whole dogs of the town at your heels? 
 However, if you must have a bargain, 1 I would 
 rather it were with that loon of a Provost than any 
 one else ; and I blame you less for this onslaught 
 than for other frays that you have made, Ludovic, 
 for it was but natural and kindlike to help your 
 young kinsman. This simple bairn must come to 
 no skaith neither ; so give me the roll of the com- 
 pany yonder down from the shelf, and we will even 
 add his name to the troop, that he may enjoy the 
 privileges." 
 
 "May it please your Lordship" said Dur- 
 ward 
 
 " Is the lad crazed ! " exclaimed his uncle 
 " Would you speak to his Lordship, without a 
 question asked ? " 
 
 " Patience, Ludovic," said Lord Crawford, " and 
 let us hear what the bairn has to say." 
 
 "Only this, if it may please your Lordship," 
 replied Quentin, " that I told my uncle formerly 
 I had some doubts about entering this service. I 
 have now to say that they are entirely removed, 
 since I have seen the noble and experienced com- 
 mander under whom I am to serve ; for there is 
 authority in your look." 
 
 "Weel said, my bairn," said the old Lord, not 
 insensible to the compliment ; " we have had some 
 experience, had God sent us grace to improve by it, 
 both in service and in command. There you stand, 
 Quentin, in our honourable corps of Scottish Body- 
 guards, as esquire to your uncle, and serving under 
 his lance. I trust you will do well, for you should 
 be a right man-at-arms, if all be good that is up- 
 * A quarrel, videlicet. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. in 
 
 come, 1 and you are come of a gentle kindred. 
 Ludovic, you will see that your kinsman follow his 
 exercise diligently, for we will have spears breaking 
 one of these days." 
 
 " By my hilts, and I am glad of it, my Lord 
 this peace makes cowards of us all. I myself feel 
 a sort of decay of spirit, closed up in this cursed 
 dungeon of a Castle." 
 
 " Well, a bird whistled in my ear," continued 
 Lord Crawford, " that the old banner will be soon 
 dancing in the field again." 
 
 " I will drink a cup the deeper this evening to 
 that very tune," said Balafre\ 
 
 " Thou wilt drink to any tune," said Lord Craw- 
 ford ; " and I fear me, Ludovic, you will drink a 
 bitter browst of your own brewing one day." 
 
 Lesly, a little abashed, replied, "that it had not 
 been his wont for many a day ; but his Lordship 
 knew the use of the company, to have a carouse to 
 the health of a new comrade." 
 
 "True," said the old leader, "I had forgot the 
 occasion. I will send a few stoups of wine to assist 
 your carouse; but let it be over by sunset. And, 
 hark ye let the soldiers for duty be carefully 
 pricked off; and see that none of them be more or 
 less partakers of your debauch." 
 
 " Your Lordship shall be lawfully obeyed," said 
 Ludovic ; " and your health duly remembered." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Lord Crawford, " I may look in 
 myself upon your mirth just to see that all is 
 carried decently." . 
 
 " Your Lordship shall be most dearly welcome," 
 said Ludovic ; and the whole party retreated in 
 
 1 That is,' if your courage corresponds with your personal 
 appearance. 
 
ii2 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 high spirits to prepare for their military banquet, 
 to which Lesly invited about a score of his com- 
 rades, who were pretty much in the habit of making 
 their mess together. 
 
 A soldier's festival is generally a very extempore 
 affair, providing there is enough of meat and drink 
 to be had; but on the present occasion, Ludovic 
 bustled about to procure some better wine than or- 
 dinary ; observing, that the " old Lord was the surest 
 gear in their aught, and that, while he preached 
 sobriety to them, he himself, after drinking at the 
 royal table as much wine as he could honestly come 
 by, never omitted any creditable opportunity to 
 fill up the evening over the wine-pot ; so you must 
 prepare, comrades," he said, " to hear the old his- 
 tories of the battles of Vernoil and BeaugeV' 1 
 
 The Gothic apartment in which they generally 
 met was, therefore, hastily put into the best order ; 
 their grooms were dispatched to collect green rushes 
 to spread upon the floor ; and banners, under which 
 the Scottish Guard had marched to battle, or which 
 they had taken from the enemies' ranks, were dis- 
 played, by way of tapestry, over the table, and 
 around the walls of the chamber. 
 
 The next point was, to invest the young recruit 
 as hastily as possible with the dress and appropri- 
 ate arms of the Guard, that he might appear in 
 every respect the sharer of its important privileges, 
 in virtue of which, and by the support of his coun- 
 trymen, he might freely brave the power and the 
 displeasure of the Provost-Marshal although the 
 
 i In both these battles, the Scottish auxiliaries of France, under 
 Stewart, Earl of Buchan,were distinguished. At Beauge they were 
 victorious, killing the Duke of Clarence, Henry Vth's brother, and 
 cutting off his army. At Vernoil they were defeated, and nearly 
 extirpated. 
 
QUENTIN DURWAKD. 113 
 
 one was known to be as formidable, as the other 
 was unrelenting. 
 
 The banquet was joyous in the highest degree ; 
 and the guests gave vent to the whole current of 
 their national partiality on receiving into their ranks 
 a recruit from their beloved father-land. Old 
 Scottish songs were sung, old tales of Scottish heroes 
 told the achievements of their fathers, and the 
 scenes in which they were wrought, were recalled 
 to mind : and, for a time, the rich plains of Touraine 
 seemed converted into the mountainous and sterile 
 regions of Caledonia. 
 
 When their enthusiasm was at high flood, and 
 each was endeavouring to say something to enhance 
 the dear remembrance of Scotland, it received a 
 new impulse from the arrival of Lord Crawford, 
 who, as Le Balafre* had well prophesied, sat as it 
 were on thorns at the royal board, until an oppor- 
 tunity occurred of making his escape to the revelry 
 of his own countrymen. A chair of state had been 
 reserved for him at the upper end of the table ; for, 
 according to the manners of the age, and the con- 
 stitution of that body, although their leader and 
 commander under the King and High Constable, 
 the members of the corps (as we should now say, 
 the privates) being all ranked as noble by birth, 
 their Captain sat with them at the same table with- 
 out impropriety, and might mingle when he chose 
 in their festivity, without derogation from his 
 dignity as commander. 
 
 At present, however, Lord Crawford declined 
 occupying the seat prepared for him, and bidding 
 them " hold themselves merry," stood looking on 
 the revel with a countenance which seemed greatly 
 to enjoy it. 
 
 VOL. I. 8 
 
U4 QUENTIN DURWABD. 
 
 " Let him alone," whispered . Cunningham to 
 Lindesay, as the latter offered the wine to their 
 noble Captain, " let him alone hurry no man's 
 cattle let him take it of his own accord." 
 
 In fact, the old Lord, who at first smiled, shook 
 his head, and placed the untasted wine-cup before 
 him, began presently, as if it were in absence of 
 mind, to sip a little of the contents, and in doing so, 
 fortunately recollected that it would be ill-luck did 
 he not drink a draught to the health of the gallant 
 lad who had joined them this day. The pledge was 
 filled, and answered, as may be well supposed, with 
 many a joyous shout, when the old leader proceeded 
 to acquaint them that he had possessed Master 
 Oliver with an account of what had passed that day : 
 "And as," he said, "the scraper of chins hath no 
 great love for the stretcher of throats, he has joined 
 me in obtaining from the King an order, command- 
 ing the Provost to suspend all proceedings, under 
 whatever pretence, against Quentin Durward ; and 
 to respect, on all occasions, the privileges of the 
 Scottish Guard." 
 
 Another shout broke forth, the cups were again 
 filled till the wine sparkled on the brim, and there 
 was an acclaim to the health of the noble Lord 
 Crawford, the brave conservator of the privileges 
 and rights of his countrymen. The good old Lord 
 could not but in courtesy do reason to this pledge 
 also, and gliding into the ready chair, as it were 
 without reflecting what he was doing, he caused 
 Quentin to come up beside him, and assailed him 
 with many more questions concerning the state of 
 Scotland, and the great families there, than he was 
 well able to answer; while ever and anon, in the 
 course of his queries, the good Lord kissed the 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 115 
 
 wine-cup by way of parenthesis, remarking, that 
 sociality became Scottish gentlemen, but that young 
 men, like Quentin, ought to practise it cautiously, 
 lest it might degenerate into excess; upon which 
 occasion he uttered many excellent things, until his 
 own tongue, although employed in the praises of 
 temperance, began to articulate something thicker 
 than usual. It was now that, while the military 
 ardour of the company augmented with each flagon 
 which they emptied, Cunningham called on them 
 to drink the speedy hoisting of the Oriflamme (the 
 royal banner of France.) 
 
 " And a breeze of Burgundy to fan it ! " echoed . 
 Lindesay. 
 
 " With all the soul that is left in this worn body 
 do I accept the pledge, bairns," echoed Lord Craw- 
 ford ; " and as old as I am, I trust I may see it 
 flutter yet. Hark ye, my mates," (for wine had 
 made him something communicative,) "ye are all 
 true servants to the French crown, and wherefore 
 should ye not know there is an envoy come from 
 Duke Charles of Burgundy, with a message of an 
 angry favour." 
 
 " I saw the Count of Crevecoeur's equipage, horses 
 and retinue," said another of the guests, " down at 
 the inn yonder, at the Mulberry Grove. They say ' 
 the King will not admit him into the Castle." 
 
 " Now, Heaven send him an ungracious answer ! " 
 said Guthrie ; "but what is it he complains of ?" 
 
 " A world of grievances upon the frontier," said 
 Lord Crawford : " and latterly, that the King hath 
 received under his protection a lady of his land, a 
 young Countess, who hath fled from Dijon, because, 
 being a ward of the Duke, he would have her marry 
 his favourite, Campo-basso." 
 
1 16 QUENTIN' DURWARD. 
 
 " And hath she actually come hither alone, iny 
 Lord ? " said Lindesay. 
 
 " Nay, not altogether alone, but with the old 
 Countess, her kinswoman, who hath yielded to her 
 cousin's wishes in this matter." 
 
 " And will the King," said Cunningham, " he 
 being the Duke's feudal sovereign, interfere be- 
 tween the Duke and his ward, over whom Charles hath 
 the same right, which, were he himself dead, the 
 King would have over the heiress of Burgundy ? " 
 
 " The King will be ruled, as he is wont, by rules 
 of policy ; and you know," continued Crawford, 
 " that he hath not publicly received these ladies, 
 nor placed them under the protection of his daugh- 
 ters, the Lady of Beaujeau, or the Princess Joan, 
 so, doubtless, he will be guided by circumstances. 
 He is our master but it is no treason to say, he 
 will chase with the hounds, and run with the hare, 
 with any Prince in Christendom." 
 
 * But the Duke of Burgundy understands no 
 such doubling," said Cunningham. 
 
 " No," answered the old Lord ; " and, therefore, 
 it is likely to make work between them." 
 
 " Well Saint Andrew further the fray ! " said 
 Le Balafre\ " I had it foretold me ten, ay, twenty 
 years since, that I was to make the fortune of my 
 house by marriage. Who knows what may happen, 
 if once we come to fight for honour and ladies' love, 
 as they do in the old romaunts ? " . 
 
 " Thou name ladies' love, with such a trench in 
 thy visage ! " said Guthrie. 
 
 " As well not love at all, as love an Bohemian 
 woman of Heathenesse," retorted Le Balafre\ 
 
 "Hold there, comrades," said Lord Crawford; 
 "no tilting with sharp weapons, no jesting with 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 117 
 
 keen scoffs friends all. And for the lady, 
 she is too wealthy to fall to a poor Scottish lord, 
 or I would put in my own claim, fourscore years 
 and all, or not very far from it. But here is her 
 health, nevertheless, for they say she is a lamp of 
 beauty." 
 
 " I think I saw her," said another soldier, " when 
 I was upon guard this morning at the inner bar- 
 rier ; but she was more like a dark lantern than a 
 lamp, for she and another were brought into the 
 Chateau in close litters." 
 
 " Shame ! shame ! Arnot ! " said Lord Crawford ; 
 " a soldier on duty should say nought of what he 
 sees. Besides," he added after a pause, his own 
 curiosity prevailing over the show of discipline 
 which he had thought it necessary to exert, " why 
 should these litters contain this very same Countess 
 Isabelle de Croye ? " 
 
 " Nay, my Lord," replied Arnot, " I know nothing 
 of it save this, that my coutelier was airing my 
 horses in the road to the village, and fell in with 
 Doguin the muleteer, who brought back the litters 
 to the inn, for they belong to the fellow of the 
 Mulberry Grove yonder he of the Fleur-de-Lys, 
 I mean and so Doguin asked Saunders Steed to 
 take a cup of wine, as they were acquainted, which 
 he was no doubt willing enough to do " 
 
 " No doubt no doubt," said the old Lord ; " it 
 is a thing I wish were corrected among you, gentle- 
 men ; but all your grooms and couteliers, and jack- 
 men, as we should call them in Scotland, are but 
 too ready to take a cup of wine with any one It 
 is a thing perilous in war, and must be amended. 
 But, Andrew Arnot, this is a long tale of yours, 
 and we will cut it with a drink ; as the Highlander 
 
318 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 says, Skeoch dock nan skial ; 1 and that's good Gaelic. 
 Here is to the Countess Isabelle of Croye, and 
 a better husband to her than Campo-basso, who is 
 a base Italian cullion ! And now, Andrew Arnot, 
 what said the muleteer to this yeoman of thine ? " 
 
 " Why he told him in secrecy, if it please your 
 Lordship," continued Arnot, " that these two ladies 
 whom he had presently before convoyed up to 
 the Castle in the close litters, were great ladies, 
 who had been living in secret at his master's house 
 for some days, and that the King had visited them 
 more than once very privately, and had done them 
 great honour ; and that they had fled up to the 
 Castle, as he believed, for fear of the Count de 
 Crevecceur, the Duke of Burgundy's ambassador, 
 whose approach was just announced by an advanced 
 courier." 
 
 " Ay, Andrew, come you there to me ? " said 
 Guthrie ; " then I will be sworn it was the Coun- 
 tess whose voice I heard singing to the lute, as I 
 came even now through the inner court the sound 
 came from the bay-windows of the Dauphin's Tower ; 
 and such melody was there as no one ever heard 
 before in the Castle of Plessis of the Park. By 
 my faith, I thought it was the music of the Fairy 
 Melusina's making. There I stood though I knew 
 your board was covered, and that you were all im- 
 patient there I stood, like " 
 
 "Like an ass, Johnny Guthrie," said his com- 
 mander ; " thy long nose smelling the dinner, thy 
 long ears hearing the music, and thy short discre- 
 tion not enabling thee to decide which of them thou 
 didst prefer. Hark ! is not that the Cathedral bell 
 
 1 " Cut a tale with a drink ; " an expression used when a man 
 preaches over his liquor, as bons vivants say in England. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARI). 119 
 
 tolling to vespers ? Sure ilycannot be that time 
 yet ? The mad old sexton has toll'd even-song an 
 hour too soon." 
 
 " In faith, the bell rings but too justly the hour," 
 said Cunningham ; " yonder the sun is sinking on 
 the west side of the fair plain." 
 
 " Ay," said the Lord Crawford, " is it even so ? 
 Well, lads, we must live within compass Fair 
 and soft goes far slow fire makes sweet malt to 
 be merry and wise is a sound proverb. One other 
 rouse to the weal of old Scotland, and then each 
 man to his duty." 
 
 The parting-cup was emptied, and the guests dis- 
 missed the stately old Baron taking the Balafre"s 
 arm, under pretence of giving him some instructions 
 concerning his nephew, but, perhaps, in reality, 
 lest his own lofty pace should seem in the public 
 eye less steady than became his rank and high com- 
 mand. A serious countenance did he bear as he 
 passed through the two courts which separated his 
 lodging from the festal chamber, and solemn as the 
 gravity of a hogshead was the farewell caution, with 
 which he prayed Ludovic to attend his nephew's 
 motions, especially in the matters of wenches and 
 wine-cups. 
 
 Meanwhile, not a word that was spoken con- 
 cerning the beautiful Countess Isabelle had escaped 
 the young Durward, who, conducted into a small 
 cabin, which he was to share with his uncle's page, 
 made his new and lowly abode the scene of much 
 high musing. The reader will easily imagine that 
 the young soldier should build a fine romance on 
 such a foundation as the supposed, or rather the 
 assumed, identification of the Maiden of the Turret, 
 to whose lay he had listened with so much interest, 
 
120 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 and the fair cup-bearer of Maitre Pierre, with a 
 fugitive Countess, of rank and wealth, flying from 
 the pursuit of a hated lover, the favourite of an 
 oppressive guardian, who abused his feudal power. 
 There was an interlude in Quen tin's vision con- 
 cerning Maitre Pierre, who seemed to exercise such 
 authority even over the formidable officer from whose 
 hands he had that day, with much difficulty, made 
 his escape. At length the youth's reveries, which 
 had been respected by little Will Harper, the com- 
 panion of his cell, were broken in upon by the 
 return of his uncle, who commanded Quen tin to bed, 
 that he might arise betimes in the morning, and 
 attend him to his Majesty's antechamber, to which 
 he was called by his hour of duty, aloug with five 
 of his comrades. 
 
 A 
 \ \ 
 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE ENVOY. 
 
 Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France ; 
 For ere thou canst report I will be there, 
 The thunder of my cannon shall be heard 
 So, hence ! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath. 
 
 King John. 
 
 Had sloth been a temptation by which Durward 
 was easily beset, the noise with which the caserne of 
 the guards resounded after the first toll of primes, 
 had certainly banished the siren from his couch ; 
 but the discipline of his father's tower, and of the 
 convent of Aberbro thick, had taught him to start 
 with the dawn ; and he did on his clothes gaily, 
 amid the sounding of bugles and the clash of ar- 
 mour, which announced the change of the vigilant 
 guards some of whonmrere returning to barracks 
 after their nightly duty, whilst some were march- 
 ing out to that of the morning and others, again, 
 amongst whom was his uncle, were arming for 
 immediate attendance upon the person of Louis. 
 Quentin Durward soon put on, with the feelings of 
 so young a man on such an occasion, the splendid 
 dress and arms appertaining to his new situation ; 
 and his uncle, who looked with great accuracy and 
 interest to see that he was completely fitted out in 
 every respect, did not conceal his satisfaction at the 
 improvement which had been thus made in his 
 nephew's appearance. " If thou dost prove as faith- 
 
122 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 ful and bold as thou art well-favoured, I shall have 
 in thee one of the handsomest and best esquires in 
 the Guard, which cannot but be an honour to thy 
 mother's family. Follow me to the presence-cham- 
 ber ; and see thou keep close at my shoulder." 
 
 So saying, he took up a partisan, large, weighty, 
 and beautifully inlaid and ornamented, and direct- 
 ing his nephew to assume a lighter weapon of a simi- 
 lar description, they proceeded to the inner-court of 
 the palace, where their comrades, who were to form 
 the guard of the interior apartments, were already 
 drawn up, and under arms the squires each stand- 
 ing behind their masters, to whom they thus formed 
 a second rank. Here were also in attendance many 
 yeomen-prickers, with gallant horses and noble 
 dogs, on which Quentin looked with such inquisi- 
 tive delight, that his uncle was obliged more than 
 once to remind him that the animals were not there 
 for his private amusement, but for the King's, who 
 had a strong passion for the chase, one of the few 
 inclinations which he indulged, even when coming 
 in competition with his course of policy ; being so 
 strict a protector of the game in the royal forests, 
 that it was currently said, you might kill a man 
 with greater impunity than a stag. 
 
 On a signal given, the Guards were put into 
 motion by the command of Le Balafrd, who acted 
 as officer upon the occasion ; and, after some minu- 
 tiae of word and signal, which all served to show 
 the extreme and punctilious jealousy with which 
 their duty was performed, they marched into the 
 hall of audience, where the King was immediately 
 expected. 
 
 New as Quentin was to scenes of splendour, the 
 effect of that which was now before him rather 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 123 
 
 disappointed the expectations which he had formed 
 of the brilliancy of a Court. There were household 
 officers, indeed, richly attired ; there were guards 
 gallantly armed, and there were domestics ofcvarious 
 degrees : But he saw none of the ancient counsel- 
 lors of the kingdom, none of the high officers of the 
 crown, heard none of the names which in those days 
 sounded an alarum to chivalry ; saw none either of 
 those generals or leaders, who, possessed of the full 
 prime of manhood, were the strength of France, or 
 of the more youthful and fiery nobles, those early 
 aspirants after honour, who were her pride. The 
 jealous habits the reserved manners the deep 
 and artful policy of the King, had estranged this 
 splendid circle from the throne, and they were only 
 called around it upon certain stated and formal occa- 
 sions, when they went reluctantly, and returned 
 joyfully, as the animals in the fable are supposed to 
 have approached and left the den of the lion. 
 
 The very few persons who seemed to be there in 
 the character of counsellors, were mean-looking men, 
 whose countenances sometimes expressed sagacity, 
 but whose manners showed they weri called into a 
 sphere for which their previous education and habits 
 had qualified them but indifferently. One or two 
 persons, however, did appeal "to Durward to possess 
 a more noble mien, and trie strictness of the present 
 duty was not such as to prevent his uncle com- 
 municating the names of those whom he thus 
 distinguished. 
 
 With the Lord Crawford, who was in attendance, 
 dressed in the rich habit of his office, and holding 
 a leading staff of silver in his hand, Quentin, as well 
 as the reader, was already acquainted. Among 
 others who seemed of quality, the most remarkable 
 
124 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 was the Count de Dunois, the son of that celebrated 
 Dunois, known by the name of the Bastard of Or- 
 leans, who, fighting under the banner of Jeanne 
 d'Arc, acted such a distinguished part in liberating 
 France from the English yoke. His son well sup- 
 ported the high renown which had descended to 
 
 * him from such an honoured source ; and, notwith- 
 standing his connexion with the royal family, and 
 his hereditary popularity both with the nobles and 
 the people, Dunois had, upon all occasions, mani- 
 fested such an open, frank loyalty of character, that 
 he seemed to have escaped all suspicion, even on 
 the part of the jealous Louis, who loved to see him 
 near his person, and sometimes even called him to 
 his councils. Although accounted complete in all 
 the exercises of chivalry, and possessed of much of 
 t&e character of what was then termed a perfect 
 knight, the person of the Count was far from being 
 a. model of romantic beauty. He was under the 
 common size, though very strongly built, and his 
 legs ra&her curved outwards, into that make which 
 
 is more convenient for horseback, than elegant in 
 a pedestrian.'^ Jlis shoulders were broad, his hair 
 black, his complex^r^ swarthy , his arms remarkably 
 long and nervous. Vhe features of his countenance 
 were irregular, even to \!^liness ; yet, after all, there 
 was an air of conscious worth and nobility about 
 the Count de Dunois, which stamped, at the first 
 glance, thlTcharacterof the high-born nobleman, and 
 the undaunted soldier. His mien was bold and 
 upright, his step free and manly, and the harshness 
 of his countenance was dignified by a glance like an 
 eagle, and a frown like a lion. His dress was a 
 hunting suit, rather sumptuous than gay, and he 
 acted on most occasions as Grand Huntsman, though 
 

 
 QUENTIN DURWARD. 125 
 
 we are not inclined to believe that he actually held 
 the office. 
 
 iJpon the arm of his relation Dunois, walking 
 with a step so slow and melancholy, that he seemed 
 to rest on his kinsman and supporter, came Louis 
 I )uke of Orleans, the first prince of the blood royal, 
 (afterwards King, by the name of Louis XII.,) and 
 to whom the guards and attendants rendered their 
 homage as such. The jealously-watched object of 
 Louis's suspicions, this Prince, who, failing the 
 King's offspring, was heir to the kingdom, was not 
 suffered to absent himself from Court, and, while 
 residing there, was alike denied employment and 
 countenance. The dejection which his degraded 
 and almost captive state naturally impressed on the 
 deportment of this unfortunate Prince, was at this 
 moment greatly increased, by his consciousness that 
 the King meditated, with respect to him, one of 
 the most cruel and unjust actions which a tyrant 
 could commit, by compelling him to give his hand 
 to the Princess Joan of France, the younger daugh- 
 ter of Louis, to whom he had been contracted 
 in infancy, but whose deformed person rendered 
 the insisting upon such an agreement an act of 
 abominable rigour. 
 
 The exterior of this unhappy Prince was in no 
 respect distinguished by personal advantages ; and 
 in mind, he was of a gentle, mild, and beneficent 
 disposition, qualities which were visible even through 
 the veil of extreme dejection, with which his nat- 
 ural character was at present obscured. Quentin 
 observed that the Duke studiously avoided even 
 looking at the Eoyal Guards, and when he returned 
 their salute, that he kept his eyes bent on the 
 ground, as if he feared the King's jealousy might 
 
126 , QUENTIN DURWAED. 
 
 have construed that gesture of ordinary courtesy, as 
 arising from the purpose of establishing a separate 
 and personal interest among them. 
 
 Very different was the conduct of the proud Car- 
 dinal and Prelate, John of Balue, the favourite min- 
 ister of Louis for the time, whose rise and character 
 bore as close a resemblance to that of Wolsey, as 
 the difference betwixt the crafty and politic Louis, 
 and the headlong and rash Henry VIII. of England, 
 would permit. The former had raised his minister 
 from the lowest rank, to the dignity, or at least 
 to the emoluments, of Grand Almoner of France, 
 loaded him with benefices, and obtained for him the 
 hat of a Cardinal ; and although he was too cautious 
 to repose in the ambitious Balue the unbounded 
 power and trust which Henry placed in Wolsey, 
 yet he was more influenced by him than by any 
 other of his avowed counsellors. The Cardinal, 
 accordingly, had not escaped the error incidental to 
 those who are suddenly raised to power from an 
 obscure situation, for he entertained a strong per- 
 suasion, dazzled doubtless by the suddenness of his 
 elevation, that his capacity was equal to intermed- 
 dling with affairs of every kind, even those most 
 foreign to his profession and studies. Tall and 
 ungainly in his person, he affected gallantry and 
 admiration of the fair sex, although his manners 
 rendered his pretensions absurd, and his profession 
 marked them as indecorous. Some male or female 
 flatterer had, in evil hour, possessed him with the 
 idea that there was much beauty of contour in a 
 pair of huge substantial legs, which he had derived 
 from his father, a car-man of Limoges, or, according 
 to other authorities, a miller of Verdun ; and with 
 this idea he had become so infatuated, that he 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 127 
 
 always had his cardinal's robes a little looped up 
 on one side, that the sturdy proportion of his limbs 
 might not escape observation. As he swept through 
 the stately apartment in his crimson dress and rich 
 cope, he stopped repeatedly to look at the arms and 
 appointments of the cavaliers on guard, asked them 
 several questions in an authoritative tone, and took 
 upon him to censure some of them for what he 
 termed irregularities of discipline, in language to 
 which these experienced soldiers dared no reply, 
 although it was plain they listened to it with im- 
 patience and with contempt. 
 
 "Is the King aware," said Dunois to the Car- 
 dinal, " that the Burgundian Envoy is peremptory 
 in demanding an audience ? " 
 
 "He is," answered the Cardinal ; "and here, as I 
 think, comes the all-sufficient Oliver Dain, 1 to let 
 us know the royal pleasure." . 
 
 As he spoke, a remarkable person, who then di- 
 vided the favour of Louis with the proud Cardinal 
 himself, entered from the inner apartment, but 
 without any of that important and consequential 
 demeanour which marked the full-blown dignity of 
 the churchman. On the contrary, this was a little, 
 pale, meagre man, whose black silk jerkin and hose, 
 without either coat, cloak, or cassock, formed a 
 dress ill qualified to set off to advantage a very 
 ordinary person. He carried a silver basin in his 
 hand, and a napkin flung over his arm indicated 
 his menial capacity. His visage was penetrating 
 and quick, although he endeavoured to banish such 
 
 1 Oliver's name, or nickname, was Le Diable, which was be- 
 stowed on him by pnblic hatred, in exchange for Le Daim, or Le 
 Dain. He was originally the King's barber, but afterwards a 
 favourite counsellor. 
 
128 QUENTIN DU11WARD. 
 
 expression from his features, by keeping his eyes 
 fixed on the ground, while, with the stealthy and 
 quiet pace of a cat, he seemed modestly rather to 
 glide than to walk through the apartment. But 
 though modesty may easily obscure worth, it can- 
 not hide court-favour ; and all attempts to steal un- 
 perceived through the presence-chamber were vain, 
 on the part of one known to have such possession 
 of the King's ear, as had been attained by his cele- 
 brated barber and groom of the chamber, Oliver le 
 Dain, called sometimes Oliver le Mauvais, and 
 sometimes Oliver le Diable, epithets derived from 
 the unscrupulous cunning with which he assisted 
 in the execution of the schemes of his master's 
 tortuous policy. At present he spoke earnestly for 
 a few moments with the Count de Dunois, who in- 
 stantly left the chamber, while the tonsor glided 
 quietly back towards the royal apartment whence 
 he had issued, every one giving place to him; which 
 civility he only acknowledged by the most humble 
 inclination of the body, excepting in a very few 
 instances, where he made one or two persons the 
 subject of envy to all the other courtiers by whis- 
 pering a single word in their ear ; and at the same 
 time muttering something of the duties of his place, 
 he escaped from their replies, as well as from the 
 eager solicitations of those who wished to attract 
 his notice. Ludovic Lesly had the good fortune 
 to be one of the individuals who, on the present 
 occasion, was favoured by Oliver with a single 
 word, to assure him that his matter was fortunately 
 terminated. 
 
 Presently afterwards, he had another proof of the 
 same agreeable tidings ; for Quentin's old acquaint- 
 ance, Tristan l'Hermite, the Provost-Marshal of the 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 129 
 
 Eoyal Household, entered the apartment, and came 
 straight to the place where Le Balafrd was posted. 
 This formidable officer's uniform, which was very 
 rich, had only the effect of making his sinister 
 countenance and bad mien more strikingly remark- 
 able, and the tone which he meant for conciliatory, 
 was like nothing so much as the growling of a bear. 
 The import of his words, however, was more ami- 
 cable than the voice in which they were pronounced. 
 He regretted the mistake which had fallen between 
 them on the preceding day, and observed it was 
 owing to the Sieur Le Balafre"s nephew not wearing 
 the uniform of his corps, or announcing himself as 
 belonging to it, which had led him into the error 
 for which he now asked forgiveness. 
 
 Ludovic Lesly made the necessary reply, and as 
 soon as Tristan had turned away, observed to his 
 nephew, that they had now the distinction of having 
 a mortal enemy from henceforward in the person of 
 this dreaded officer. " But we are above his volee 
 a soldier," said he, " who does his duty, may laugh 
 at the Provost-Marshal." 
 
 Quentin could not help being of his uncle's 
 opinion, for, as Tristan parted from them, it was 
 with the look of angry defiance which the bear 
 casts upon the hunter whose spear has wounded 
 him. Indeed, even when less strongly moved, the 
 sullen eye of this official expressed a malevolence of 
 purpose which made men shudder to meet his glance ; 
 and the thrill of the young Scot was the deeper and 
 more abhorrent, that he seemed to himself still to 
 feel on his shoulders the grasp of the two death- 
 doing functionaries of this fatal officer. 
 
 Meanwhile, Oliver, after he had prowled around 
 the room in the stealthy manner which we have 
 
 VOL. 1. 9 
 
130 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 endeavoured to describe, all, even the highest 
 officers, making way for him, and loading him with 
 their ceremonious attentions, which his modesty 
 seemed desirous to avoid, again entered the 
 inner apartment, the doors of which were pre- 
 sently thrown open, and King Louis entered the 
 presence-chamber. 
 
 Quentin, like all others, turned his eyes upon 
 him ; and started so suddenly, that he almost dropt 
 his weapon, when he recognised in the King of 
 France that silk-merchant, Maitre Pierre, who had 
 been the companion of his morning walk. Singular 
 suspicions respecting the real rank of this person 
 had at different times crossed his thoughts; but 
 this, the proved reality, Was wilder than his wildest 
 conjecture. 
 
 The stern look of his uncle, offended at this 
 breach of the decorum of his office, recalled him to 
 himself ; but not a little was he astonished when 
 the King, whose quick eye had at once discovered 
 him, walked straight to the place where he was 
 posted, without taking notice of any one else. 
 " So," he said, " young man, I am told you have 
 been brawling on your first arrival in Touraine ; but 
 I pardon you, as it was chiefly the fault of a foolish 
 old merchant, who thought your Caledonian blood 
 required to be heated in the morning with Vin de 
 Beaulne. If I can find him, I will make him an ex- 
 ample to those who debauch my Guards. BalafreV' 
 he added, speaking to Lesly, " your kinsman is a fair 
 youth, though a fiery. We love to cherish such 
 spirits, and mean to make more than ever we did 
 of the brave men who are around us. Let the year, 
 day, hour, and minute of your nephew's birth be 
 written down, and given to Oliver Dain." 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 131 
 
 Le Balafre' bowed to the ground, and re-assumed 
 his erect military position, as one who would show 
 by his demeanour his promptitude to act in the 
 King's quarrel or defence. Quentin, in the mean- 
 time, recovered from his first surprise, studied the 
 King's appearance more attentively, and was sur- 
 prised to find how differently he now construed his 
 deportment and features than he had done at their 
 first interview. 
 
 These were not much changed in exterior, for 
 Louis, always a scorner of outward show, wore, on 
 the present occasion, an old dark -blue hunting- 
 dress, not much better than the plain burgher-suit 
 of the preceding day, and garnished with a huge 
 rosary of ebony, which had been sent to him by no 
 less a personage than the Grand Seignior, with an 
 attestation that it had been used by a Coptic her- 
 mit on Mount Lebanon, a personage of profound 
 sanctity. And instead of his cap with a single 
 image, he now wore a hat, the band of which was 
 garnished with at least a dozen of little paltry 
 figures of saints stamped in lead. But those eyes, 
 which, according to Quentin' s former impression, 
 only twinkled with the love of gain had, now that 
 they were known to be the property of an able and 
 powerful monarch, a piercing and majestic glance ; 
 and those wrinkles on the brow, which he had sup- 
 posed were formed during a long series of petty 
 schemes of commerce, seemed now the furrows 
 which sagacity had worn while toiling in medita- 
 tion upon the fate of nations. 
 
 Presently after the King's appearance, the Prin- 
 cesses of France, with the ladies of their suite, en- 
 tered the apartment. With the eldest, afterwards 
 married to Peter of Bourbon, and known in French 
 
132 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 history by the name of the Lady of Beaujeau, our 
 story has but little to do. She was tall, and rather 
 handsome, possessed eloquence, talent, and much 
 of her father's sagacity, who reposed great confi- 
 dence in her, and loved her as well perhaps as he 
 loved any one. 
 
 The younger sister, the unfortunate Joan, the 
 destined bride of the Duke of Orleans, advanced 
 timidly by the side of her sister, conscious of a total 
 want of those external qualities which women are 
 most desirous of possessing, or being thought to 
 possess. She was pale, thin, and sickly in her com- 
 plexion ; her shape visibly bent to one side, and her 
 gait so unequal that she might be called lame. A 
 fine set of teeth, and eyes which were expressive 
 of melancholy, softness, and resignation, 'with a 
 quantity of light brown locks, were the only re- 
 deeming points which flattery itself could have dared 
 to number, to counteract the general homeliness of 
 her face and figure. To complete the picture, it 
 was easy to remark, from the Princess's negligence 
 in dress, and the timidity of her manner, that she 
 had an unusual and distressing consciousness of her 
 own plainness of appearance, and did not dare to 
 make any of those attempts to mend by manners or 
 by art what nature had left amiss, or in any other 
 way to exert a power of pleasing. The King (who 
 loved her not) stepped hastily to her as she entered. 
 " How now ! " he said, " our world-contemning 
 daughter Are you robed for a hunting-party, or 
 for the convent, this morning ? Speak answer." 
 
 " For which your highness pleases, sire," said the 
 Princess, scarce raising her voice above her breath. 
 
 " Ay, doubtless, you would persuade me it is 
 your desire to quit the Court, Joan, and renounce 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 133 
 
 the world and its vanities. Ha ! maiden, wouldst 
 thou have it thought that we, the first-born of Holy 
 Church, would refuse our daughter to Heaven ? 
 Our Lady and Saint Martin forbid we should refuse 
 the offering, were it worthy of the altar, or were thy 
 vocation in truth thitherward ! " 
 
 So saying, the King crossed himself devoutly, 
 looking, in the meantime, as appeared to Quentin, 
 very like a cunning vassal, who was depreciating 
 the merit of something which he was desirous to 
 keep to himself, in order that he might stand ex- 
 cused for not offering it to his chief or superior. 
 " Dares he thus play the hypocrite with Heaven," 
 thought Durward, " and sport with God and the 
 Saints, as he may safely do with men, who dare not 
 search his nature too closely ? " 
 
 Louis meantime resumed, after a moment's men- 
 tal devotion " No, fair daughter, I and another 
 know your real mind better Ha ! fair cousin of 
 Orleans, do we not? Approach, fair sir, and lead 
 this devoted vestal of ours to her horse." 
 
 Orleans started when the King spoke, and has- 
 tened to obey him ; but with such precipitation of 
 step, and confusion, that Louis called out, "Nay, 
 cousin, rein your gallantry, and look before you. 
 Why, what a headlong matter a gallant's haste is on 
 some occasions ! You had wellnigh taken Anne's 
 hand instead of her sister's. Sir, must I give 
 Joan's to you myself ? " 
 
 The unhappy Prince looked up, and shuddered 
 like a child, when forced to touch something at 
 which it has instinctive horror then making an 
 effort, took the hand which the Princess neither 
 gave nor yet withheld. As they stood, her cold 
 damp fingers enclosed in his trembling hand, with 
 
134 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 thbir eyes looking on the ground, it would have 
 been difficult to say which of these two youthful 
 beings was rendered more utterly miserable the 
 Duke, who felt himself fettered to the object of his 
 aversk n by bonds which he durst not tear asunder, 
 or the unfortunate young woman, who too plainly 
 saw that she was an object of abhorrence to him, 
 to gain whose kindness she would willingly have 
 died. 
 
 " And now to horse, gentlemen and ladies We 
 will ourselves lead forth our daughter of Beaujeau," 
 said the King ; " and God's blessing and Saint 
 Hubert's be on our morning sport ! " 
 
 " I am, I fear, doomed to interrupt it, sire," said 
 the Compte de Dunois " the Burgundian Envoy 
 is before the gates of the Castle, and demands an 
 audience." 
 
 " Demands an audience, Dunois ? " replied the 
 King "Did you not answer him, as we sent you 
 word by Oliver, that we were not at leisure to see 
 him to-day, and that to-morrow was the festival 
 of Saint Martin, which, please Heaven, we would 
 disturb by no earthly thoughts, and that on the 
 succeeding day we were designed for Amboise 
 but that we would not fail to appoint him as early 
 An audience, when we returned, as our pressing 
 affairs would permit ? " 
 
 " All this I said," answered Dunois ; " but yet, 
 sire " 
 
 " Pasques-dieu ! man, what is it that thus sticks 
 in thy throat ? " said the King. " This Burgun- 
 dian's terms must have been hard of digestion." 
 
 " Had not my duty, your Grace's commands, and 
 his character as an Envoy, restrained me," said 
 Dunois, " he should have tried to digest them him- 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 135 
 
 self , for, by our Lady of Orleans, I had more mind 
 to have made him eat his own words, than to have 
 brought them to your Majesty." 
 
 "Body of me, Dunois," said the King, "it is 
 strange that thou, one of the most impatient fel- 
 lows alive, shouldst have so little sympathy with 
 the like infirmity in our blunt and fiery cousin, 
 Charles of Burgundy. Why, man, I mind his 
 blustering messages no more than the towers of 
 this Castle regard the whistling of the north-east 
 wind, which comes from Flanders, as well as this 
 brawling Envoy." 
 
 " Know then, sire," replied Dunois, " that the 
 Count of Crevecceur tarries below, with his retinue 
 of pursuivants and trumpets, and says, that, since 
 your Majesty refuses him the audience which his 
 master has instructed him to demand, upcn matters 
 of most pressing concern, he will remain there till 
 midnight, and accost your Majesty at whatever hour 
 you are pleased to issue from your Castle, whether 
 for business, exercise, or devotion ; and that no con- 
 sideration, except the use of absolute force, shall 
 compel him to desist from this resolution." 
 
 " He is a fool," said the King, with much com- 
 posure. "Does the hot-headed Hainaulter think 
 it any penance for a man of sense to remain for 
 twenty-four hours quiet within the walls of his 
 Castle, when he hath the affairs of a kingdom to 
 occupy him ? These impatient coxcombs think that 
 all men, like themselves, are miserable, save when 
 in saddle and stirrup. Let the dogs be put up, and 
 well looked to, gentle Dunois We will hold coun- 
 cil to-day, instead of hunting." 
 
 "My Liege," answered Dunois, "you will not 
 thus rid yourself of Crevecoeur ; for his master's 
 
136 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 instructions are, that if he hath not this audience 
 which he demands, he shall nail his gauntlet to the 
 palisades before the Castle, in token of mortal 
 defiance on the part of his master, shall renounce 
 the Duke's fealty to France, and declare instant 
 war." 
 
 "Ay," said Louis, without any perceptible alter- 
 ation of voice, but frowning until his piercing dark 
 eyes became almost invisible under his shaggy eye- 
 brows, " is it even so ? will our ancient vassal 
 prove so masterful our dear cousin treat us thus 
 unkindly ? Nay then, Dunois, we must unfold the 
 Oriflamme, and cry Dennis Montjoye ! " 
 
 " Marry and amen, and in a most happy hour ! " 
 said the martial Dunois ; and the guards in the hall, 
 unable to resist the same impulse, stirred each upon 
 his post, so as to produce a low but distinct sound 
 of clashing arms. The King cast his eye proudly 
 round, and, for a moment, thought and looked like 
 his heroic father. 
 
 But the excitement of the moment presently gave 
 way to the host of political considerations, which, 
 at that conjuncture, rendered an open breach with 
 Burgundy so peculiarly perilous. Edward IV., a 
 brave and victorious king, who had in his own 
 person fought thirty battles, was now established on 
 the throne of England, was brother to the Duchess 
 of Burgundy, and it might well be supposed, waited 
 but a rupture between his near connexion and 
 Louis, to carry into France, through the ever-open 
 gate of Calais, those arms which had been trium- 
 phant in the English civil wars, and to obliterate 
 the recollection of internal dissensions by that most 
 popular of all occupations amongst the English, an 
 invasion of France. To this consideration was added 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 137 
 
 the uncertain faith of the Duke of Bretagne, and 
 other weighty subjects of reflection. So that, after 
 a deep pause, when Louis again spoke, although in 
 the same tone, it was with an altered spirit. " But 
 God forbid," he said, " that aught less than neces- 
 sity should make us the Most Christian King, give 
 cause to the effusion of Christian blood, if any thing 
 short of dishonour may avert such a calamity. We 
 tender our subjects' safety dearer than the ruffle 
 which our own dignity may receive from the rude 
 breath of a malapert ambassador, who hath perhaps 
 exceeded the errand with which he was charged. 
 Admit the Envoy of Burgundy to our presence." 
 
 " Beati pacifici" said the Cardinal Balue. 
 
 " True ; and your eminence knoweth that they 
 who humble themselves shall be exalted," added the 
 King. 
 
 The Cardinal spoke an Amen, to which few as- 
 sented ; for even the pale cheek of Orleans kindled 
 with shame, and Balafre* suppressed his feelings so 
 little, as to let the but-end of his partisan fall heav- 
 ily on the floor, a movement of impatience for 
 which he underwent a bitter reproof from the Car- 
 dinal, with a lecture on the mode of handling his 
 arms when in presence of the Sovereign. The King 
 himself seemed unusually embarrassed at the silence 
 around him. " You are pensive, Dunois," he said 
 " You disapprove of our giving way to this hot- 
 headed Envoy." 
 
 " By no means," said Dunois ; " I meddle not with 
 matters beyond my sphere. I was but thinking of 
 asking a boon of your Majesty." 
 
 "A boon, Dunois what is it? You are an 
 unfrequent suitor, and may count on our favour." 
 
 " I would, then, your Majesty would send me to 
 
i 3 8 QTJENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 Evreux to regulate the clergy," said Dunois, with 
 military frankness. 
 
 "That were indeed beyond thy sphere," replied 
 the King, smiling. 
 
 " I might order priests as well," replied the Count, 
 "as my Lord Bishop of Evreux, or my Lord Car- 
 dinal, if he likes the title better, can exercise the 
 soldiers of your Majesty's guard." 
 
 The King smiled again, and more mysteriously, 
 while he whispered Dunois, " The time may come 
 when you and I will regulate the priests together 
 But this is for the present a good conceited 
 animal of a Bishop. Ah, Dunois ! Rome, Rome 
 puts him and other burdens upon us But patience, 
 cousin, and shuffle the cards, till our hand is a 
 stronger one." l 
 
 The flourish of trumpets in the court-yard now 
 announced the arrival of the Burgundian nobleman. 
 All in the presence-chamber made haste to arrange 
 
 1 Dr. Dryasdust here remarks, that cards, said to have been 
 invented in a preceding reign, for the amusement of Charles V. 
 during the intervals of his mental disorder, seem speedily to have 
 become common among the courtiers, since they already furnished 
 Louis XT. with a metaphor. The same proverb was quoted by 
 Durandarte, in the enchanted cave of Montesinos. The alleged 
 origin of the invention of cards, produced one of the shrewdest 
 replies I have ever heard given in evidence. It was made by the 
 late Dr Gregory of Edinburgh to a counsel of great eminence at 
 the Scottish bar. The Doctor's testimony went to prove the 
 insanity of the party whose mental capacity was the point at issue. 
 On a cross-interrogation, he admitted that the person in question 
 played admirably at whist. " And do you seriously say, doctor," 
 said the learned counsel, " that a person having a superior capacity 
 for a game so difficult, and which requires in a pre-eminent degree, 
 memory, judgment, and combination, can be at the same time 
 deranged in his understanding 7 " "I am no card player," said 
 the doctor, with great address, " but I have read in history that 
 cards were invented for the amusement of an insane king/' The 
 consequences of this reply were decisive. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 139 
 
 chemselves according to their proper places of pre- 
 cedence, the King and his daughters remaining in 
 the centre of the assembly. 
 
 The Count of Crev ecoeur, a renowned and undaunted 
 warrior, entered the apartment ; and, contrary to the 
 usage among the envoys of friendly powers, he 
 appeared all armed, excepting his head, in a gorgeous 
 suit of the most superb Milan armour, made of steel, 
 inlaid and embossed with gold, which was wrought 
 into the fantastic taste called the Arabesque. 
 Around his neck, and over his polished cuirass, 
 hung his master's order of the Golden Fleece, one 
 of the most honoured associations of chivalry then 
 known in Christendom. A handsome page bore 
 his helmet behind him, a herald preceded him, 
 bearing his letters of credence, which he offered on 
 his knee to the King ; while the ambassador him- 
 self paused in the midst of the hall, as if to give all 
 present time to admire his lofty look, commanding 
 stature, and undaunted composure of countenance 
 and manner. The rest of his attendants waited in 
 the antechamber, or court-yard. 
 
 "Approach, Seignior Count de Crevecoeur," said 
 Louis, after a moment's glance at his commission ; 
 " we need not our Cousin's letters of credence, either 
 to introduce to us a warrior so well known, or to 
 assure us of your highly deserved credit with your 
 master. We trust that your fair partner, who shares 
 some of our ancestral blood, is in good health. Had 
 you brought her in your hand, Seignior Count, we 
 might have thought you wore your armour, on this 
 unwonted occasion, to maintain the superiority of 
 her charms against the amorous chivalry of France. 
 As it is, we cannot guess the reason of this complete 
 panoply." 
 
Ho QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 "Sire," replied the ambassador, "the Count. (A 
 Crevecoeur must lament his misfortune, and entreat 
 your forgiveness, that he cannot, on this occasion, 
 reply with such humble deference as is due to the 
 royal courtesy, with which your Majesty has hon- 
 oured him. But, although it is only the voice of 
 Philip Crevecoeur de Cordes which speaks, the words 
 which he utters must be those of his gracious Lord 
 and Sovereign the Duke of Burgundy." 
 
 "And what has Crevecoeur to say in the words 
 of Burgundy ? " said Louis, with an assumption of 
 sufficient dignity. " Yet hold remember, that in 
 this presence, Philip Crevecoeur de Cordes speaks 
 to him who is his Sovereign's Sovereign." 
 
 Crevecoeur bowed, and then spoke aloud : " King 
 of France, the mighty Duke of Burgundy once more 
 sends you a written schedule of the wrongs and 
 oppressions committed on his frontiers by your 
 Majesty's garrisons and officers ; and the first point 
 of enquiry is, whether it is your Majesty's purpose 
 to make him amends for these injuries ? " 
 
 The King, looking slightly at the memorial which 
 the herald delivered to him upon his knee, said, 
 " These matters have been already long before our 
 Council. Of the injuries complained of, some are 
 in requital of those sustained by my subjects, some 
 are affirmed without any proof, some have been re- 
 taliated by the Duke's garrisons and soldiers ; and 
 if there remain any which fall under none of those 
 predicaments, we are not, as a Christian prince, averse 
 to make satisfaction for wrongs actually sustained by 
 our neighbour, though committed not only without 
 our countenance, but against our express order." 
 
 " I will convey your Majesty's answer," said the 
 ambassador, " to my most gracious master ; yet, let 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 14! 
 
 me say, that, as it is in no degree different from the 
 evasive replies which have already been returned to 
 his just complaints, I cannot hope that it will afford 
 the means of re-establishing peace and friendship 
 betwixt France and Burgundy." 
 
 * " Be that at God's pleasure," said the King. " It 
 is not for dread of thy Master's arms, but for the 
 sake of peace only, that I return so temperate an 
 answer to his injurious reproaches. Proceed with 
 thine errand." 
 
 "My Master's next demand," said the ambas- 
 sador, " is, that your Majesty will cease your secret 
 and underhand dealings with his towns of Ghent, 
 Liege, and Malines. He requests that your Ma- 
 jesty will recall the secret agents, by whose means 
 the discontents of his good citizens of Flanders are 
 inflamed; and dismiss from your Majesty's domi- 
 nions, or rather deliver up to the condign punish- 
 ment of their liege lord, those traitorous fugitives, 
 who, having fled from the scene of their machina- 
 tions, have found too ready a refuge in Paris, Or- 
 leans, Tours, and other French cities." 
 
 " Say to the Duke of Burgundy," replied the 
 King, " that I know of no such indirect practices 
 as those with which he injuriously charges me ; that 
 my subjects of France have frequent intercourse 
 with the good cities of Flanders, for the purpose of 
 mutual benefit t)y free traffic, which it would be as 
 much contrary to the Duke's interest as mine to 
 interrupt ; and that many Flemings have residence 
 in my kingdom, and enjoy the protection of my laws, 
 for the same purpose ; but none, to our knowledge, 
 for those of treason or mutiny against the Duke. 
 Proceed with your message you have heard my 
 answer." 
 
i 4 2 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 " As formerly, Sire, with pain," replied the Count 
 of Crevecceur ; " it not being of that direct or ex- 
 plicit nature which the Duke, my master, will accept, 
 in atonement for a long train of secret machinations, 
 not the less certain, though now disavowed by your 
 Majesty. But I proceed with my message. The 
 Duke of Burgundy further requires the King of 
 France to send back to his dominions without delay, 
 and under a secure safeguard, the persons of Isabelle 
 Countess of Croye, and of her relation and guardian 
 the Countess Hameline, of the same family, in re- 
 spect the said Countess Isabelle, being, by the law 
 of the country, and the feudal tenure of her estates, 
 the .ward of the said Duke of Burgundy, hath fled 
 from his dominions, and from the charge which he, 
 as a careful guardian, was willing to extend over 
 her, and is here maintained in secret by the King 
 of France, and by him fortified in her contumacy to 
 the Duke, her natural lord and guardian, contrary 
 to the laws of God and man, as they ever have been 
 acknowledged in civilized Europe. Once more I 
 pause for your Majesty's reply." 
 
 " You did well, Count de Crevecceur," said Louis, 
 scornfully, "to begin your embassy at an early 
 hour ; for if it be your purpose to call on me to 
 account for the flight of every vassal whom your 
 master's heady passion may have driven from his 
 dominions, the bead-roll may last till sunset. Who 
 can affirm that these ladies are in my dominions ? 
 who can presume to say, if it be so, that I have 
 either countenanced their flight hither, or have re- 
 ceived them with offers of protection ? Nay, who 
 is it will assert, that, if they are in France, their 
 place of retirement is within my knowledge ? " 
 
 " Sire," said Crevecceur, " may it please your 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 143 
 
 Majesty, I was provided with a witness on this 
 subject one who beheld these fugitive ladies in 
 the inn called the Fleur-de-Lys, not far from this 
 Castle one who saw your Majesty in their com- 
 pany, though under the unworthy disguise of a bur- 
 gess of Tours one who received from them, in 
 your royal presence, messages and letters to their 
 friends in Flanders all which he conveyed to the 
 hand and ear of the Duke of Burgundy." 
 
 " Bring him forward," said the King ; " place 
 the man before my face who dares maintain these 
 palpable falsehoods." 
 
 " You speak in triumph, Sire ; for you are well 
 aware that this witness no longer exists. When 
 he lived, he was called Zamet Magraubin, by birth 
 one of those Bohemian wanderers. He was yester- 
 day, as I have learned, executed by a party of your 
 Majesty's Provost-Marshal, to prevent, doubtless, 
 his standing here, to verify what he said of this 
 matter to the Duke of Burgundy, in presence of his 
 Council, and of me, Philip Crevecceur de Cordes." 
 
 " Now, by our Lady of Embrun ! " said the King, 
 " so gross are these accusations, and so free of con- 
 sciousness am I of aught that approaches them, that, 
 by the honour of a King, I laugh, rather than am 
 wroth at them. My Provost-guard daily put to 
 death, as is their duty, thieves and vagabonds ; and 
 is my crown to be slandered with whatever these 
 thieves and vagabonds may have said to our hot 
 cousin of Burgundy and his wise counsellors ? I 
 pray you, tell my kind cousin, if he loves such com- 
 panions, he had best keep them in his own estates ; 
 for here they are like to meet short shrift and a 
 tight cord." 
 
 " My master needs no such subjects, Sir King," 
 
144 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 answered the Count, in a tone more disrespectful 
 than he had yet permitted himself to make use of ; 
 " for the noble Duke uses not to enquire of witches, 
 wandering Egyptians, or others, upon the destiny 
 and fate of his neighbours and allies." 
 
 "We have had patience enough, and to spare," 
 said the King, interrupting him ; " and since thy 
 sole errand here seems to be for the purpose of in- 
 sult, we will send some one in our name to the 
 Duke of Burgundy convinced, in thus demeaning 
 thyself towards us, thou hast exceeded thy com- 
 mission, whatever that may have been." 
 
 " On the contrary," said Crevecceur, " I have not 
 yet acquitted myself of it. Hearken, Louis of 
 Valois, King of France Hearken, nobles and gen- 
 tlemen, who may be present Hearken, all good 
 and true men And thou, Toison d'Or," addressing 
 the herald, " make proclamation after me. I, 
 Philip Crevecoeur of Cordes, Count of the Empire, 
 and Knight of the honourable and princely Order 
 of the Golden Fleece, in the name of the most 
 puissant Lord and Prince, Charles, by the grace 
 of God, Duke of Burgundy and Lotharingia, of 
 Brabant and Limbourg, of Luxembourg and of 
 Gueldres ; Earl of Flanders and of Artois ; Count 
 Palatine of Hainault, of Holland, Zealand, Namur, 
 and Zutphen ; Marquis of the Holy Empire ; Lord 
 of Friezeland, Salines, and Malines, do give you, 
 Louis, King of France, openly to know, that you 
 having refused to remedy the various griefs, wrongs, 
 and offences, done and wrought by you, or by and 
 through your aid, suggestion, and instigation, against 
 the said Duke and his loving subjects, he, by my 
 mouth, renounces all allegiance and fealty towards 
 your crown and dignity pronounces you false and 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 145 
 
 faithless ; and defies you as a Prince, and as a man. 
 There lies my gage, in evidence of what I have said." 
 
 So saying, he plucked the gauntlet off his right 
 hand, and flung it down on the floor of the hall. 
 
 Until this last climax of audacity, there had been 
 a deep silence in the royal apartment during the 
 extraordinary scene; but no sooner had the clash 
 of the gauntlet, when cast down, been echoed by 
 the deep voice of Toison d'Or, the Burgundian 
 herald, with the ejaculation, " Vive Bourgogne ! " 
 than there was a general tumult. While Dunois, 
 Orleans, old Lord Crawford, and one or two others, 
 whose rank authorized their interference, contended 
 which should lift up the gauntlet, the others in 
 the hall exclaimed, " Strike him down ! Cut him 
 to pieces ! Comes he here to insult the King of 
 France in his own palace ! " 
 
 But the King appeased the tumult by exclaim- 
 ing, in a voice like thunder, which overawed and 
 silenced every other sound, " Silence, my lieges ! 
 lay not a hand on the man, not a finger on the gage ! 
 And you, Sir Count, of what is your life com- 
 posed, or how is it warranted, that you thus place it 
 on the cast of a die so perilous ? Or is your Duke 
 made of a different metal from other princes, since 
 he thus asserts his pretended quarrel in a manner 
 so unusual ? " 
 
 " He is indeed framed of a different and more 
 noble metal than the other princes of Europe," said 
 the undaunted Count of Crevecceur; "for, when 
 not one of them dared to give shelter to you to 
 you I say, King Louis whenyou were yet only # 
 Dauphin, an exile from France, and pursued by the 
 whole bitterness of your father's revenge, and all 
 the power of his kingdom, you were received and 
 
 vol. l 10 
 
146 quentin durward. 
 
 protected like a brother by my noble master, whose 
 generosity of disposition you have so grossly mis- 
 used. Farewell, Sire, my mission is discharged." 
 
 So saying, the Count de Crevecoeur left the apart- 
 ment abruptly, and without farther leave-taking. 
 
 " After him after him take up the gauntlet 
 and after him ! " said the King. "I mean not you, 
 Dunois, nor you, my Lord of Crawford, who, me- 
 thinks, may be too old for such hot frays ; nor you, 
 Cousin of Orleans, who are too young for them. 
 My Lord Cardinal my Lord Bishop of Auxerre 
 it is your holy office to make peace among princes ; 
 do you lift the gauntlet, and remonstrate with 
 Count Crevecoeur on the sin he has committed, in 
 thus insulting a great Monarch in his own Court, 
 and forcing us to bring the miseries of war upon 
 his kingdom and that of his neighbour." 
 
 Upon this direct personal appeal, the Cardinal 
 Balue proceeded to lift the gauntlet, with such pre- 
 caution as one would touch an adder, so great was 
 apparently his aversion to this symbol of war, and 
 presently left the royal apartment to hasten after 
 the challenger. 
 
 Louis paused and looked round the circle of his 
 courtiers, most of whom, except such as we have 
 already distinguished, being men of low birth, and 
 raised to their rank in the King's household for 
 other gifts than courage or feats of arms, looked 
 pale on each other, and had obviously received an 
 unpleasant impression from the scene which had 
 been just acted. Louis gazed on them with con- 
 tempt, and then % aid aloud, " Although the Count 
 of Crevecoeur be presumptuous and overweening, it 
 must be confessed that in him the Duke of Bur- 
 gundy hath as bold a servant as ever bore message 
 
QTJENTIN DURWARD. 147 
 
 for a prince. I would I knew where to find as 
 faithful an Envoy to carry back my answer." 
 
 " You do your French nobles injustice, Sire," said 
 Dunois ; " not one of them but would carry a defi- 
 ance to Burgundy on the point of his sword." 
 
 And, Sire," said old Crawford, " you wrong 
 also the Scottish gentlemen who serve you. I, or 
 any of my followers, being of meet rank, would not 
 hesitate a moment to call yonder proud Count to a 
 reckoning ; my own arm is yet strong enough for the 
 purpose, if I have but your Majesty's permission." 
 
 " But your Majesty," continued Dunois, " will 
 employ us in no service through which we may 
 win honour to ourselves, to your Majesty, or to 
 France." 
 
 " Say, rather," said the King, " that I will not 
 give way, Dunois, to the headlong impetuosity, 
 which, on some punctilio of chivalry, would wreck 
 yourselves, the throne, France, and all. There is 
 not one of you who knows not how precious every 
 hour of peace is at this moment, when so necessary 
 to heal the wounds of a distracted country ; yet 
 there is not one of you who would not rush into 
 war on account of the tale of a wandering gipsy, or 
 of some errant demosel, whose reputation, perhaps, 
 is scarce higher. Here comes the Cardinal, and 
 we trust with more pacific tidings. How now, my 
 Lord have you brought the Count to reason and 
 to temper ? " 
 
 " Sire," said Balue, " my task hath been diffi- 
 cult. I put it to yonder proud Count, how he dared 
 to use towards your Majesty, the presumptuous 
 reproach with which his audience had broken up, 
 and which must be understood as proceeding, not 
 from his master, but from his own insolence, and as 
 
148 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 placing him therefore in your Majesty's discretion, 
 for what penalty you might think proper." 
 
 " You said right," replied the King ; " and what 
 was his answer ? " 
 
 " The Count," continued the Cardinal, " had at 
 that moment his foot in the stirrup, ready to mount ; 
 and, on hearing my expostulation, he turned his 
 head without altering his position. 'Had 1/ said 
 he, ' been fifty leagues distant, and had heard by 
 report that a question vitu perat ive of my Prince 
 had been asked by the King of France, I had, even 
 at that distance, instantly mounted, and returned 
 to disburden my mind of the answer which I gave 
 him but now.' " 
 
 " I said, sirs," said the King, turning around, 
 without any show of angry emotion, " that in the 
 Count Philip of Crevecceur, our cousin the Duke 
 possesses as worthy a servant as ever rode at a 
 prince's right hand. But you prevailed with him 
 to stay ? " 
 
 "To stay for twenty-four hours; and in the 
 meanwhile to receive again his gage of defiance," 
 said the Cardinal : " he has dismounted at the 
 Fleur-de-Lys." 
 
 "See that he be nobly attended and cared for, 
 at our charges," said the King ; " such a servant is 
 a jewel in a prince's crown. Twenty-four hours ? " 
 he added, muttering to himself, and looking as if 
 he were stretching his eyes to see into futurity; 
 "twenty-four hours? 'tis of the shortest. Yet 
 twenty-four hours, ably and skilfully employed, may 
 be worth a year in the hand of indolent or incapable 
 agents. Well. To the forest to the forest, 
 my gallant lords ! Orleans, my fair kinsman, lay 
 aside that modesty, though it becomes you ; mind 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 149 
 
 not my Joan's coyness. The Loire may as soon 
 avoid mingling with the Cher, as she from favour- 
 ing your suit, or you from preferring it," he added, 
 as the unhappy prince moved slowly on after his 
 betrothed bride. " And now for your boar-spears, 
 gentlemen ; for Allegre, my pricker, hath harboured 
 one that will try both dog and man. Dunois, 
 lend me your spear, take mine, it is too weighty 
 for me ; but when did you complain of such a fault 
 in your lance ? To horse to horse, gentlemen." 
 And all the chase rode on. 
 
CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 THE BOAR-HUNT. 
 
 I "will converse with unrespective boys * 
 
 And iron-witted fools. None are for me 
 That look into me with suspicious eyes. 
 
 King Richard. 
 
 All the experience which the Cardinal had been 
 able to collect of his master's disposition, did not, 
 upon the present occasion, prevent his falling into 
 a great error of policy. His vanity induced him to 
 think that he had been more successful in pre- 
 vailing upon the Count of Crevecceur to remain at 
 Tours, than any other moderator whom the King 
 might have employed, would, in all probability, 
 have been. And as he was well aware of the im- 
 portance which Louis attached to the postponement 
 of a war with the Duke of Burgundy, he could not 
 help showing that he conceived himself to have 
 rendered the King great and acceptable service. 
 He pressed nearer to the King's person than he 
 was wont to do, and endeavoured to engage him in 
 conversation on the events of the morning. 
 
 This was injudicious in more respects than one ; 
 for princes love not to see their subjects approach 
 them with a air conscious of deserving, and thereby 
 seeming desirous to extort acknowledgment and 
 recompense for their services ; and Louis, the most 
 jealous monarch that ever lived, was peculiarly 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. i$t 
 
 averse and inaccessible to any one who seemed 
 either to presume upon service rendered, or to pry 
 into his secrets. 
 
 Yet, hurried away, as the most cautious some- 
 times are, by the self-satisfied humour of the mo- 
 ment, the Cardinal continued to ride on the King's 
 right hand, turning the discourse, whenever it was 
 possible, upon Crevecoeur and his embassy ; which, 
 although it might be the matter at that moment 
 most in the King's thoughts, was nevertheless pre- 
 cisely that which he was least willing to converse 
 on. At length Louis, who had listened to him with 
 attention, yet without having returned any answer 
 which could tend to prolong the conversation, signed 
 to Dunois, who rode at no great distance, to come up 
 on the other side of his horse. 
 
 " We came hither for sport and exercise," said he, 
 "but the reverend Father here would have us hold 
 a council of state." 
 
 " I hope your Highness will excuse my assis- 
 tance," said Dunois ; " I am born to fight the battles 
 of France, and have heart and hand for that, but 
 I have no head for her councils." 
 
 " My Lord Cardinal hath a head turned for 
 nothing else, Dunois," answered Louis ; " he hath 
 confessed Crevecoeur at the Castle-gate, and he hath 
 communicated to us his whole shrift Said you not 
 the whole ? " he continued, with an emphasis on the 
 word, and a glance at the Cardinal, which shot from 
 betwixt his long dark eyelashes, as a dagger gleams 
 when it leaves the scabbard. 
 
 The Cardinal trembled, as, endeavouring to 
 reply to the King's jest, he said, " That though his 
 order were obliged to conceal the secrets of their 
 penitents in general, there was no sigillum confes- 
 
152 QUENTIN DUEL WARD. 
 
 sionis, which could not be melted at his- Majesty's 
 breath." 
 
 " And as his Eminence," said the King, '' is ready 
 to communicate the secrets of others to us, he 
 naturally expects that we should be equally commu- 
 nicative to him; and, in order to get upon this 
 reciprocal footing, he is very reasonably desirous to 
 know if these two ladies of Croye be actually in our 
 territories. We are sorry we cannot indulge, his 
 curiosity, not ourselves knowing in what precise 
 place errant damsels, disguised princesses, distressed 
 countesses, may lie leaguer within our dominions, 
 which are, we thank God and our Lady of Embrun, 
 rather too extensive for us to answer easily his 
 Eminence's most reasonable enquiries. But suppos- 
 ing they were with us, what say you, Dunois, to our 
 cousin's peremptory demand ? " 
 
 " I will answer you, my Liege, if you will tell 
 me in sincerity, whether you want war or peace," 
 replied Dunois, with a frankness which, while it 
 arose out of his own native openness and intrepi- 
 dity of character, made him from time to time a 
 considerable favourite with Louis, who, like all 
 astucious persons, was as desirous of looking into 
 the hearts of others, as of concealing his own. 
 
 "By my halidome," said he, "I should be as 
 well contented as thyself, Dunois, to tell thee my 
 purpose, did I myself but know it exactly. But 
 say I declared for war, what should I do with this 
 beautiful and wealthy young heiress, supposing her 
 to be in my dominions ? " 
 
 "Bestow her in marriage on one of your own 
 gallant followers, who has a heart to love and an 
 arm to protect her," said Dunois. 
 
 " Upon thyself, ha ! " said the King. " Pasques- 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 153 
 
 dieu ! thou art more politic than I took thee for 
 with all thy bluntness." 
 
 "Nay, Sire," answered Dunois, "I am aughl 
 except politic. By our Lady of Orleans, I come 
 to the point at once, as I ride my horse at the ring. 
 Your Majesty owes the house of Orleans at least 
 one happy marriage." 
 
 " And I will pay it, Count. Pasques-dieu, I will 
 pay it ! See you not yonder fair couple ? " 
 
 The King pointed to the unhappy Duke of Or- 
 leans and the Princess, who, neither daring to 
 remain at a greater distance from the King, nor in 
 his sight appear separate from each other, were 
 riding side by side, yet with an interval of two or 
 three yards betwixt them, a space which timidity 
 on the one side, and aversion on the other, prevented 
 them from diminishing, while neither dared to 
 increase it. 
 
 Dunois looked in the direction of the King's sig- 
 nal, and as the situation of his unfortunate relative 
 and the destined bride reminded him of nothing so 
 much as of two dogs, which, forcibly linked to- 
 gether, remain nevertheless as widely separated as 
 the length of their collars will permit, he could not 
 help shaking his head, though he ventured not on 
 any other reply to the hypocritical tyrant. Louis 
 seemed to guess his thoughts. 
 
 " It will be a peaceful and quiet household they 
 will keep not much disturbed with children, I 
 should augur. 1 But these are not always a blessing." 
 
 1 Here the King touches on the very purpose for which he 
 pressed on the match with such tyrannic severity, which was, 
 that as the Princess's personal deformity admitted little chance 
 of its being fruitful, the branch of Orleans, which was next 
 in succession to the crown, might be, by the want of heirs, 
 weakened or extinguished. In a letter to the Comj)te de Dam 
 
154 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 It was, perhaps, the recollection of his own filial 
 ingratitude that made the King pause as he uttered 
 the last reflection, and which converted the sneer 
 that trembled on his lip into something resembling 
 an expression of contrition. But he instantly pro- 
 ceeded in another tone. 
 
 " Frankly, my Dunois, much as I revere the holy 
 sacrament of matrimony," (here he crossed himself,) 
 " I would rather the house of Orleans raised for me 
 such gallant soldiers as thy father and thyself, who 
 share the blood-royal of France without claiming 
 its rights, than that the country should be torn to 
 pieces, like to England, by wars arising from the 
 rivalry of legitimate candidates for the crown. The 
 lion should never have more than one cub." 
 
 Dunois sighed and was silent, conscious that con- 
 tradicting his arbitrary Sovereign might well hurt 
 his kinsman's interests, but could do him no ser- 
 vice ; yet he could not forbear adding, in the next 
 moment, 
 
 " Since your Majesty has alluded to the birth of 
 my father, I must needs own, that, setting the frailty 
 of his parents on one side, he might be termed hap- 
 pier, and more fortunate, as the son of lawless love, 
 than of conjugal hatred." 
 
 " Thou art a scandalous fellow, Dunois, to speak 
 thus of holy wedlock," answered Louis, jestingly. 
 " But to the devil with the discourse, for the boar 
 is unharboured. Lay on the dogs, in the name of 
 the holy Saint Hubert ! Ha ! ha ! tra-la-la-lira- 
 
 marten, Louis, speaking of his daughter's match, says, " Qu'ils 
 n'auroient pas beaucoup d'ambarras a nourrir les enfans que 
 naitroient de leur union ; mais cependant elle aura lieu, quelque 
 chose qu'on en puisse dire." Wrax all's History of France, 
 foI. i. p. 143, note. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 155 
 
 g| 
 la ! " And the King's horn rung merrily through 
 
 the woods as he pushed forward on the chase, fol- 
 lowed by two or three of his guards, amongst whom 
 was our friend Quentin Durward. And here it was 
 remarkable, that, even in the keen prosecution of 
 his favourite sport, the King, in indulgence of his 
 caustic disposition, found leisure to amuse himself 
 by tormenting Cardinal Balue. 
 
 It was one of that able statesman's weaknesses, 
 as we have elsewhere hinted, to suppose himself, 
 though of low rank and limited education, quali- 
 fied to play the courtier and the man of gallantry. 
 He did not, indeed, actually enter the lists of chival- 
 rous combat, like Becket, or levy soldiers like 
 Wolsey. But gallantry, in which they also were 
 proficients, was his professed pursuit ; and he like- 
 wise affected great fondness for the martial amuse- 
 ment of the chase. Yet, however well he might 
 succeed with certain ladies, to whom his power, his 
 wealth, and his influence as a statesman, might atone 
 for deficiencies in appearance and manners, the gal- 
 lant horses, which he purchased at almost any price, 
 were totally insensible to the dignity of carrying a 
 Cardinal, and paid no more respect to him than they 
 would have done to his father, the carter, miller, or 
 tailor, whom he rivalled in horsemanship. The 
 King knew this, and, by alternately exciting and 
 checking his own horse, he brought that of the Car- 
 dinal, whom he kept close by his side, into such a 
 state of mutiny against his rider, that> it became ap- 
 parent they must soon part company ; and then, in 
 the midst of its starting, bolting, rearing, and lash- 
 ing out, alternately, the royal tormentor rendered 
 the rider miserable, by questioning him upon many 
 affairs of importance, and hinting his purpose to take 
 
156 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 that opportunity of communicating to him some of 
 those secrets of state, which the Cardinal had but 
 a little while before seemed so anxious to learn. 1 
 
 A more awkward situation could hardly be ima- 
 gined, than that of a privy-counsellor forced to 
 listen to and reply to his sovereign, while each fresh 
 gambade of his unmanageable horse placed him in 
 a new and more precarious attitude his violet robe 
 flying loose in every direction, and nothing securing 
 him. from an instant and perilous fall, save the depth 
 of the saddle, and its height before and behind. 
 Dunois laughed without restraint; while the King, 
 who had a private mode of enjoying his jest in- 
 wardly, without laughing aloud, mildly rebuked his 
 minister on his eager passion for the chase, which 
 would not permit him to dedicate a few moments 
 to business. " I will no longer be your hinderance 
 to a course/' continued he, addressing the terrified 
 Cardinal, and giving his own horse the rein at the 
 same time. 
 
 Before Balue could utter a word by way of an- 
 swer or apology, his horse, seizing the bit with his 
 
 1 A friendly, though unknown correspondent, has pointed out 
 to me that I have heen mistaken in alleging that the Cardinal 
 was a bad rider. If so, I owe his memory an apology ; for there 
 are few men who, until my latter days, have loved that exercise 
 better than myself. But the Cardinal may have been an indif- 
 ferent horseman, though he wished to be looked upon as equal to 
 the dangers of the chase. He was a man of assumption and osten- 
 tation, as he showed at the siege of Paris in 1465, where, contrary 
 to the custom and usage of war, he mounted guard during the 
 night with an unusual sound of clarions, trumpets, and other 
 instruments. In imputing to the Cardinal a want of skill in 
 horsemanship, I recollected his adventure in Paris when attacked 
 by assassins, on which occasion his mule, being scared by the 
 crowd, ran away with the rider, and taking its course to a monas- 
 tery, to the abbot of which he formerly belonged, was the means 
 of saving his master's life. See Jean de Troyes* Chronicle, 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 157 
 
 teeth, went forth at an uncontrollable gallop, soon 
 leaving behind the King and Dunois, who followed 
 at a more regulated pace, enjoying the statesman's 
 distressed predicament. If any of our readers has 
 chanced to be run away with in his time, (as we 
 ourselves have in ours,) he will have a full sense at 
 once of the pain, peril, and absurdity of the situa- 
 tion. Those four limbs of the quadruped, which, 
 noway under the rider's control, nor sometimes under 
 that of the creature they more properly belong to, 
 fly at such a rate as if the hindermost meant to over- 
 take the foremost those clinging legs of the biped 
 which we so often wish safely planted on the green 
 sward, but which now only augment our distress 
 by pressing the animal's sides the hands which 
 have forsaken the bridle for the mane the body 
 which, instead of sitting upright on the centre of 
 gravity, as old Angelo used to recommend, or stoop- 
 ing forward like a jockey's at Newmarket, lies, 
 rather than hangs, crouched upon the back of the 
 animal, with no better chance of saving itself than 
 a sack of corn combine to make a picture more 
 than sufficiently ludicrous to spectators, however 
 uncomfortable to the exhibiter. But add to this 
 some singularity of dress or appearance on the part 
 of the unhappy cavalier a robe of office, a splendid 
 uniform, or any other peculiarity of costume, and 
 let the scene of action be a race-course, a review, 
 a procession, or any other place of concourse and 
 public display, and if the poor wight would escape 
 being the object of a shout of inextinguishable 
 laughter, he must contrive to break a limb or two, 
 or, which will be more effectual, to be killed on 
 the spot; for on no slighter condition will his fall 
 excite any thing like serious sympathy. On the 
 
158 QTJENTIN DXJRWARD. 
 
 present occasion, the short violet-coloured gown 
 of the Cardinal, which he used as a riding-dress, 
 (having changed his long robes before he left the 
 Castle,) his scarlet stockings and scarlet hat, with 
 the long strings hanging down, together with his 
 utter helplessness, gave infinite zest to his exhibition 
 of horsemanship. 
 
 The horse, having taken matters entirely into his 
 own hand, flew rather than galloped up a long green 
 avenue, overtook the pack in hard pursuit of the 
 boar, and then, having overturned one or two yeo- 
 men prickers, who little expected to be charged in 
 the rear, having ridden down several dogs, and 
 greatly confused the chase, animated by the cla- 
 morous expostulations and threats of the huntsman, 
 carried the terrified Cardinal past the formidable 
 animal itself, which was rushing on at a speedy 
 trot, furious and embossed with the foam which 
 he churned around his tusks. Balue, on beholding 
 himself so near the boar, set up a dreadful cry 
 for help, which, or perhaps the sight of the boar, 
 produced such an effect on his horse, that the 
 animal interrupted its headlong career by suddenly 
 springing to one side; so that the Cardinal, who 
 had long kept his seat only because the motion was 
 straight forward, now fell heavily to the ground. 
 The conclusion of Balue's chase took place so near 
 the boar, that, had not the animal been at that mo- 
 ment too much engaged about his own affairs, the 
 vicinity might have proved as fatal to the Cardinal, 
 as it is said to have done to Favila, King of the 
 Visigoths, of Spain. The powerful churchman 
 got off, however, for the fright, and, crawling as 
 hastily as he could out of the way of hounds and 
 huntsmen, saw the whole chase sweep by him with- 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 159 
 
 out affording him assistance ; for hunters in those 
 days were as little moved by sympathy for such 
 misfortunes as they are in our own. 
 
 The King, as he passed, said to Dunois, " Yon- 
 der lies his Eminence low enough he is no great 
 huntsman, though for a fisher (when a secret is to 
 be caught) he may match Saint Peter himself. 
 He has, however, for once, I think, met with his 
 match." 
 
 The Cardinal did not hear the words, but the 
 scornful look with which they were spoken led him 
 to suspect their general import. The devil is said 
 to seize such opportunities of temptation as was now 
 afforded by the passions of Balue, bitterly moved 
 as they had been by the scorn of the King. The 
 momentary fright was over so soon as he had as- 
 sured himself that his fall was harmless ; but morti- 
 fied vanity, and resentment against his Sovereign, 
 had a much longer influence on his feelings. 
 
 After all the chase had passed him, a single 
 cavalier, who seemed rather to be a spectator than 
 a partaker of the sport, rode up with one or two at- 
 tendants, and expressed no small surprise to find 
 the Cardinal upon the ground, without a horse or 
 attendants, and in sucli a plight as plainly showed 
 the nature of the accident which had placed him 
 there. To dismount, and offer his assistance in this 
 predicament, to cause one of his attendants resign 
 a staid and quiet palfrey for the Cardinal's use 
 to express his surprise at the customs of the French 
 Court, which thus permitted them to abandon to 
 the dangers of the chase, and forsake in his need, 
 their wisest statesman, were the natural modes of 
 assistance and consolation which so strange a 
 rencontre supplied to Crevecceur; for it was the 
 
160 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 Burgundian ambassador who came to the assistance 
 of the fallen Cardinal 
 
 He found the minister in a lucky time and humour 
 for essaying some of those practices on his fidelity, 
 to which it is well known that Balue had the crimi- 
 nal weakness to listen. Already in the morning, as 
 the jealous temper of Louis had suggested, more had 
 passed betwixt them than the Cardinal durst have re- 
 ported to his master. But although he had listened 
 with gratified ears to the high value, which, he was 
 assured by Crevecceur, the Duke of Burgundy placed 
 upon his person and talents, and not without a feel- 
 ing of temptation, when the Count hinted at the 
 munificence of his master's disposition, and the rich 
 benefices of Flanders, it was not until the accident, 
 as we have related, had highly irritated him, that, 
 stung with wounded vanity, he resolved, in a fatal 
 hour, to show Louis XL, that no enemy can be so 
 dangerous as an offended friend and confidant. 
 
 On the present occasion, he hastily requested 
 Crevecceur to separate from him, lest they should 
 be observed, but appointed him a meeting for the 
 evening in the Abbey of Saint Martin's at Tours, 
 after vesper service ; and that in a tone which 
 assured the Burgundian that his master had ob- 
 tained an advantage hardly to have been hoped for, 
 except in such a moment of exasperation. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Louis, who, though the most 
 politic Prince of his time, upon this, as on other 
 occasions, had suffered his passions to interfere with 
 his prudence, followed contentedly the chase of the 
 wild boar which was now come to an interesting 
 point. It had so happened that a sounder (i. e. in 
 the language of the period, a boar of only two years 
 o]d) had crossed the track of the proper object Oi 
 
QUENTIN DURWAKD. i6r 
 
 the chase, and withdrawn in pursuit of him all the 
 dogs, (except two or three couple of old stanch 
 hounds,) and the greater part of the huntsmen. 
 The King saw, with internal glee, Dunois, as well 
 as others, follow upon this false scent, and enjoyed 
 in secret the thought of triumphing over that ac- 
 complished knight, in the art of venerie, which was 
 then thought almost as glorious as war. Louis was 
 well mounted, and followed close on the hounds ; 
 so that, when the original boar turned to bay in a 
 marshy piece of ground, there was no one near him 
 but the King himself. 
 
 Louis showed all the bravery and expertness of 
 an experienced huntsman ; for, unheeding the dan- 
 ger, he rode up to the tremendous animal, which 
 was defending itself with fury against the dogs, and 
 struck him with his boar-spear; yet, as the horse 
 shyed from the boar, the blow was not so effectual 
 as either to kill or disable him. No effort could pre- 
 vail on the horse to charge a second time ; so that 
 the King, dismounting, advanced on foot against 
 the furious animal, holding naked in his hand one 
 of those short, sharp, straight, and pointed swords 
 which huntsmen used for such encounters. The 
 boar instantly quitted the dogs to rush on his 
 human enemy, while the King, taking his station, 
 and posting himself firmly, presented the sword, 
 with the purpose of aiming it at the boar's throat, 
 or rather chest, within the collar-bone ; in which 
 case, the weight of the beast, and the impetuosity 
 of its career, would have served to accelerate its 
 own destruction. But, owing to the wetness of the 
 ground, the King's foot slipped, just as this delicate 
 and perilous manoeuvre ought to have been accom- 
 plished, so that the point of the sword encountering 
 
 VOL. I. 11 
 
162 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 the cuirass of bristles on the outside of the creature's 
 shoulder, glanced off without making any impres- 
 sion, and Louis fell flat on the ground. This was so 
 far fortunate for the Monarch, because the animal, 
 owing to the King's fall, missed his blow in his turn, 
 and in passing only rent with his tusk the King's 
 short hunting-cloak, instead of ripping up his thigh. 
 But when, after running a little a-head in the fury 
 of his course, the boar turned to repeat his attack 
 on the King at the moment when he was rising, 
 the life of Louis was in imminent danger. At this 
 critical moment, Quentin Durward, who had been 
 thrown out in the chase by the slowness of his 
 horse, but who, nevertheless, had luckily distin- 
 guished and followed the blast of the King's horn, 
 rode up, and transfixed the animal with his spear. 
 
 The King, who had by this time recovered his 
 feet, came in turn to Durward's assistance, and cut 
 the animal's throat with his sword. Before speak- 
 ing a word to Quentin, he measured the huge crea- 
 ture not only by paces, but even by feet then 
 wiped the sweat from his brow, and the blood from 
 his hands then took off his hunting-cap, hung it 
 on a bush, and devoutly made his orisons to the 
 little leaden images which it contained and at 
 length, looking upon Durward, said to him, " Is it 
 thou, my young Scot ? thou hast begun thy wood- 
 craft well, and Maitre Pierre owes thee as good en- 
 tertainment as he gave thee at the Fleur-de-Lys 
 yonder. Why dost thou not speak? Thou hast 
 lost thy forwardness and fire, methinks, at the 
 Court, where others find both." 
 
 Quentin, as shrewd a youth as ever Scottish breeze 
 breathed caution into, had imbibed more awe than 
 confidence towards his dangerous master, and was 
 
 
^SW! 
 
 
QUENTIN DURWA11D. 163 
 
 far too wise to embrace the perilous permission of 
 familiarity which he seemed thus invited to use. 
 He answered in very few and well-chosen words, 
 that if he ventured to address his Majesty at all, it 
 could be but to crave pardon for the rustic boldness 
 with which he had conducted himself when ignorant 
 of his high rank. 
 
 " Tush ! man," said the King ; " I forgive thy 
 sauciness for thy spirit and shrewdness. I admired 
 how near thou didst hit upon my gossip Tristan's 
 occupation. You have nearly tasted of his handi- 
 work since, as I am given to understand. I bid 
 thee beware of him ; he is a merchant who deals in 
 rough bracelets and tight necklaces. Help me to 
 my horse I like thee, and will do thee good. 
 Build on no man's favour but mine not even on 
 thine uncle's or Lord Crawford's and say nothing 
 of thy timely aid in this matter of the boar; for if 
 a man makes boast that he has served a King in 
 such a pinch, he must take the braggart humour 
 for its own recompense." 
 
 The King then winded his horn, which brought 
 up Dunois and several attendants, whose compli- 
 ments he received on the slaughter of such a noble 
 animal, without scrupling to appropriate a much 
 greater share of merit than actually belonged to 
 him ; for he mentioned Durward's assistance as 
 slightly as a sportsman of rank, who, in boasting 
 of the number of birds which he has bagged, does 
 not always dilate upon the presence and assistance 
 of the game-keeper. He then ordered Dunois to see 
 that the boar's carcass was sent to the brotherhood of 
 Saint Martin, at Tours, to mend their fare on holy- 
 days, and that they might remember the King in 
 their private devotions. 
 
164 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 " And," said Louis, " who hath seen his Emi- 
 nence my Lord Cardinal? Methinks it were but 
 poor courtesy, and cold regard to Holy Church, to 
 leave him afoot here in the forest." 
 
 " May it please you, Sire," said Quentin, when 
 he saw that all were silent, "I saw his Lordship 
 the Cardinal accommodated with a horse, on which 
 he left the forest." 
 
 " Heaven cares for its own," replied the King. 
 " Set forward to the Castle, my lords ; we'll hunt 
 no more this morning. You, Sir Squire," address- 
 ing Quentin, "reach me my wood-knife it has 
 dropped from the sheath beside the quarry there. 
 Eide on, Dunois I follow instantly." 
 
 Louis, whose lightest motions were often con- 
 ducted like stratagems, thus gained an opportunity 
 to ask Quentin privately, " My bonny Scot, thou 
 hast an eye, I see Canst thou tell me who helped 
 the Cardinal to a palfrey ? Some stranger, I 
 should suppose ; for, as / passed without stopping, 
 the courtiers would likely be in no hurry to do him 
 such a timely good turn." 
 
 "I saw those who aided his Eminence but an 
 instant, Sire," said Quentin ; " it was only a hasty 
 glance, for I had been unluckily thrown out, and 
 was riding fast, to be in my place ; but I think it 
 was the Ambassador of Burgundy and his people." 
 
 "Ha!" said Louis. "Well, be it so France 
 will match them yet." 
 
 There was nothing more remarkable happened, 
 and the King, with his retinue, returned to the 
 Castle. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE SENTINEL. 
 
 Where should this music be ? i' the air, or the earth ? 
 
 The Tempest. 
 
 1 was all ear, 
 
 And took in strains that might create a soul 
 Under the ribs of death. 
 
 Comus. 
 
 Quentin had hardly reached his little cabin, in 
 order to make some necessary changes in his dress, 
 when his worthy relative required to know the full 
 particulars of all that had befallen him at the 
 hunt. 
 
 The youth, who could not help thinking that his 
 uncle's hand was probably more powerful than his 
 understanding, took care, in his reply, to leave the 
 King in full possession of the victory which he had 
 seemed desirous to appropriate. Le Balafre"s reply 
 was a boast of how much better he himself would 
 have behaved in the like circumstances, and it was 
 mixed with a gentle censure of his nephew's slack- 
 ness, in not making in to the King's assistance, 
 when he might be in imminent peril. The youth 
 had prudence, in answer, to abstain from all farther 
 vindication of his own conduct, except that, accord- 
 ing to the rules of woodcraft, he held it ungentle 
 to interfere with the game attacked by another 
 hunter, unless he was specially called upon for his 
 assistance. This discussion was scarcely ended, 
 
1 66 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 when occasion was afforded Quentin to congratulate 
 himself for observing some reserve towards hi ; 
 kinsman. A low tap at the door announced a 
 visitor it was presently opened, and Oliver Dain, 
 or Mauvais, or Diable, for by all these names he 
 was known, entered the apartment. 
 
 This able but most unprincipled man has been 
 already described, in so far as his exterior is con- 
 cerned. The aptest resemblance of his motions 
 and manners might perhaps be to those of the do- 
 mestic cat, which, while couching in seeming slum- 
 ber, or gliding through the apartment with slow, 
 stealthy, and timid steps, is now engaged in watch- 
 ing the hole of some unfortunate mouse, now in 
 rubbing herself with apparent confidence and fond- 
 ness against those by whom she desires to be ca- 
 ressed, and, presently after, is flying upon her prey, 
 or scratching, perhaps, the very object of her former 
 cajolements. 
 
 He entered with stooping shoulders, a humble 
 and modest look, and threw such a degree of civil- 
 ity into his address to the Seignior Balafr^, that no 
 one who saw the interview could have avoided con- 
 cluding that he came to ask a boon of the Scottish 
 Archer. He congratulated Lesly on the excellent 
 conduct of his young kinsman in the chase that day, 
 which, he observed, had attracted the King's par- 
 ticular attention. He here paused for a reply ; and 
 with his eyes fixed on the ground, save just when 
 once or twice they stole upwards to take a side 
 glance at Quentin, he heard Balafre" observe, " That 
 his Majesty had been unlucky in not having him- 
 self by his side instead of his nephew, as he would 
 questionless have made in, and speared the brute, a 
 matter which he understood Quentin had left upon 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. x6f 
 
 his Majesty's royal hands, so far as he could learn 
 the story. But it will be a lesson to his Majesty," 
 he said, "while he lives, to mount a man of my 
 inches on a better horse; for how could my great 
 lii 11 of a Flemish dray-horse keep up with his 
 Majesty's Norman runner ? I am sure I spurred 
 till his sides were furrowed. It is ill considered, 
 Master Oliver, and you must represent it to his 
 Majesty." 
 
 Master Oliver only replied to this observation by 
 turning towards the bold bluff speaker one of those 
 slow, dubious glances, which, accompanied by a 
 slight motion of the hand, and a gentle depression 
 of the head to one side, may be either interpreted 
 as a mute assent to what is said, or as a cautious 
 deprecation of farther prosecution of the subject. It 
 was a keener, more scrutinizing glance, which he 
 bent on the youth, as he said, with an ambiguous 
 smile, " So, young man, is it the wont of Scotland 
 to suffer your Princes to be endangered for the lack 
 of aid, in such emergencies as this of to-day ? " 
 
 "It is our custom," answered Quentin, deter- 
 mined to throw no farther light on the subject, "not 
 to encumber them with assistance in honourable 
 pastimes, when they can aid themselves without it. 
 We hold that a prince in a hunting-field must take 
 his chance with others, and that he comes there for 
 the very purpose. What were woodcraft without 
 fatigue and without danger ? " 
 
 " You hear the silly boy," said his uncle ; " that 
 is always the way with him ; he hath an answer or 
 a reason ready to be rendered to every one. I won- 
 der whence he hath caught the gift ; I never could 
 give a reason for any thing I have ever done in my 
 life, except for eating when I was a-hungry, calling 
 
168 QUENTIN DURWARJ). 
 
 the muster-roll, and such points of duty as the 
 like." 
 
 "And pray, worthy Seignior," said the royal ton- 
 sor, looking at him from under his eyelids, " what 
 might your reason be for calling the muster-roll on 
 such occasions ? " 
 
 " Because the Captain commanded me," said Le 
 Balafre*. " By Saint Giles, I know no other rea- 
 son ! If he had commanded Tyrie or Cunningham, 
 they must have done the same." 
 
 " A most military final cause ! " said Oliver. 
 " But, Seignior Le Balafre*, you will be glad, doubt- 
 less, to learn, that his Majesty is so far from being 
 displeased with your nephew's conduct, that he 
 hath selected him to execute a piece of duty this 
 afternoon." 
 
 " Selected him ? " said Balafrd, in great surprise ; 
 " Selected me, I suppose you mean ? " 
 
 "I mean precisely as I speak," replied the bar- 
 ber, in a mild but decided tone ; " the King hath 
 a commission with which to intrust your nephew." 
 
 " Why, wherefore, and for what reason ? " said 
 Balafre* ; " why doth he choose the boy, and not 
 me?" 
 
 " I can go no farther back than your own ul- 
 timate cause, Seignior Le Balafre*; such are his 
 Majesty's commands. But," said he, " if I might use 
 the presumption to form a conjecture, it may be his 
 Majesty hath work to do, fitter for a youth like 
 your nephew, than for an experienced warrior like 
 yourself, Seignior Balafre*. Wherefore, young gen- 
 tleman, get your weapons and follow me. Bring 
 with you a harquebuss, for you are to mount 
 sentinel." 
 
 " Sentinel ! " said the uncle " are you sure you 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. i6g 
 
 are right, Master Oliver ? The inner guards of the 
 Castle have ever been mounted by those only who 
 have (like me) served twelve years in our honour- 
 able body." 
 
 " I am quite certain of his Majesty's pleasure," 
 said Oliver, " and must no longer delay executing it." 
 
 " But," said Le Balafre*, " my nephew is not even 
 a free Archer, being only an Esquire, serving under 
 my lance." 
 
 " Pardon me," answered Oliver, " the King sent 
 for the register not half an hour since, and enrolled 
 him among the Guard. Have the goodness to as- 
 sist to put your nephew in order for the service." 
 
 Balafre\ who had no ill-nature, or even much 
 jealousy, in his disposition, hastily set about adjust- 
 ing his nephew's dress, and giving him directions 
 for his conduct under arms, but was unable to re- 
 frain from larding them with interjections of sur- 
 prise at such luck chancing to fall upon the young 
 man so early. 
 
 " It had never taken place before in the Scottish 
 Guard," he said, "not even in his own instance. 
 But doubtless his service must be to mount guard 
 over the popinjays and Indian peacocks, which the 
 Venetian ambassador had lately presented to the 
 King it could be nothing else ; and such duty 
 being only fit for a beardless boy," (here he twirled 
 his own grim mustaches,) " he was glad the lot had 
 fallen on his fair nephew." 
 
 Quick, and sharp of wit, as well as ardent in 
 fancy, Quentin saw visions of higher importance in 
 this early summons to the royal presence, and his 
 heart beat high at the anticipation of rising into 
 speedy distinction. He determined carefully to 
 watch the manners and language of his conductor, 
 
170 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 which he suspected must, in some cases at least, be 
 interpreted by contraries, as soothsayers are said to 
 discover the interpretation of dreams. He could 
 not but hug himself on having observed strict se- 
 crecy on the events of the chase, and then formed 
 a resolution, which, for so young a person, had much 
 prudence in it, that while he breathed the air of 
 this secluded and mysterious Court, he would keep 
 his thoughts locked in his bosom, and his tongue 
 under the most careful regulation. 
 
 His equipment was soon complete, and, with his 
 harquebuss on his shoulder, (for though they re- 
 tained the name of Archers, the Scottish Guard 
 very early substituted fire-arms for the long-bow, in 
 the use of which their nation never excelled,) he 
 followed Master Oliver out of the barrack. 
 
 His uncle looked long after him, with a counte- 
 nance in which wonder was blended with curiosity ; 
 and though neither envy nor the malignant feel- 
 ings which it engenders, entered into his honest 
 meditation, there was yet a sense of wounded or 
 diminished self-importance, which mingled with the 
 pleasure excited by his nephew's favourable com- 
 mencement of service. 
 
 He shook his head gravely, opened a privy cup- 
 board, took out a large bottrine of stout old wine, 
 shook it to examine how low the contents had ebbed, 
 filled and drank a hearty cup ; then took his seat, 
 half reclining, on the great oaken settle, and having 
 once again slowly shaken his head, received so much 
 apparent benefit from the oscillation, that, like the 
 toy called a mandarin, he continued the motion 
 until he dropped into a slumber, from which he was 
 first roused by the signal to dinner. 
 
 When Quentin Durward left his uncle to these 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 171 
 
 sublime meditations, he followed his conductor, 
 Master Oliver, who, without crossing any of the 
 principal courts, led him partly through private 
 passages exposed to the open air, but chiefly through 
 a maze of stairs, vaults, and galleries, communicat- 
 ing with each other by secret doors, and at unex- 
 pected points, into a large and spacious latticed 
 gallery, which, from its breadth, might have been 
 almost termed a hall, hung with tapestry more an- 
 cient than beautiful, and with a very few of the hard, 
 cold, ghastly-looking pictures, belonging to the first 
 dawn of the arts, which preceded their splendid 
 sunrise. These were designed to represent the 
 Paladins of Charlemagne, who made such a distin- 
 guished figure in the romantic history of France ; 
 and as the gigantic form of the celebrated Orlando 
 constituted the most prominent figure, the apart- 
 ment acquired from him the title of Koland's Hall, 
 or Koland's gallery. 1 
 
 "You will keep watch here," said Oliver, in a 
 low whisper, as if the hard delineations of monarchs 
 and warriors around could have been offended at 
 the elevation of his voice, or as if he had feared to 
 awaken the echoes that lurked among the groined- 
 vaults and Gothic drop-work on the ceiling of this 
 huge and dreary apartment. 
 
 " What are the orders and signs of my watch ? " 
 answered Quentin, in the same suppressed tone. 
 
 " Is your harquebuss loaded ? " replied Oliver, 
 without answering his query. 
 
 " That," answered Quentin, " is soon done ; " and 
 
 1 Charlemagne, I suppose on account of his unsparing rigour 
 to the Saxons and other heathens, was accounted a saint during 
 the dark ages; and Louis XL, as one of his successors, honoured 
 Ais shrine with peculiar observance. 
 
172 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 proceeded to charge his weapon, and to light the 
 slow-match (by which when necessary it was dis- 
 charged) at the embers of a wood fire, which was 
 expiring in the huge hall chimney a chimney 
 itself so large, that it might have been called a 
 Gothic closet or chapel appertaining to the hall. 
 
 When this was performed, Oliver told him that 
 he was ignorant of one of the high privileges of 
 his own corps, which only received orders from the 
 King in person, or the High Constable of France, in 
 lieu of their own officers. "You are placed here by 
 his Majesty's command, young man," added Oliver, 
 " and you will not be long here without knowing 
 wherefore you are summoned. Meantime your walk 
 extends along this gallery. You are permitted to 
 stand still while you list, but on no account to sit 
 down, or quit your weapon. You are not to sing 
 aloud, or whistle, upon any account ; but you may, 
 if you list, mutter some of the church's prayers, 
 or what else you list that has no offence in it, in a 
 low voice. Farewell, and keep good watch." 
 
 " Good watch ! " thought the youthful soldier as 
 his guide stole away from him with that noiseless 
 gliding step which was peculiar to him, and van- 
 ished through a side door behind the arras " Good 
 watch! but upon whom, and against whom? for 
 what, save bats or rats, are there here to contend 
 with, unless these grim old representatives of human- 
 ity should start into life for the disturbance of my 
 guard ? Well, it is my duty, I suppose, and I must 
 perform it." 
 
 With the vigorous purpose of discharging his 
 duty, even to the very rigour, he tried to while away 
 the time with some of the pious hymns which he 
 had learned in the convent in which he had found 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 173 
 
 shelter after the death of his father allowing in 
 his own mind, that but for the change of a nov- 
 ice's frock for the rich military dress which he 
 now wore, his soldierly walk in the royal gallery 
 of France resembled greatly those of which he 
 had tired excessively in the cloistered seclusion of 
 Aberbrothick. 
 
 Presently, as if to convince himself he now be- 
 longed not to the cell but to the world, he chanted 
 to himself, but in such tone as not to exceed the 
 license given to him, some of the ancient roiije V 
 ballads which the old family harper had taught him, 
 ofTKeTclefeat of the Danes at Aberlemno and Forres, 
 the murder of King Duffus at Forfar, and other 
 pithy sonnets and lays, which appertained to the 
 history of his distant native country, and particu- 
 larly of the district to which he belonged. This 
 wore away a considerable space of time, and it was 
 now more than two hours past noon, when Quentin 
 was reminded by his appetite that the good fathers 
 of Aberbrothick, however strict in demanding his 
 attendance upon the hours of devotion, were no less 
 punctual in summoning him to those of refection ; 
 whereas here, in the interior of a royal palace, 
 after a morning spent in exercise, and a noon ex- 
 hausted in duty, no man seemed to consider it as a 
 natural consequence that he must be impatient for 
 his dinner. 
 
 There are, however, charms in sweet sounds 
 which can lull to rest even the natural feelings of 
 impatience, by which Quentin was now visited. 
 At the opposite extremities of the long hall or 
 gallery, were two large doors, ornamented with 
 heavy architraves, probably opening into different r 
 suites of apartments, to which the gallery served 
 
174 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 as a medium of mutual communication. As the 
 sentinel directed his solitary walk betwixt these 
 two entrances, which formed the boundary of his 
 duty, he was startled by a strain of music, which 
 was suddenly waked near one of those doors, and 
 which, at least in his imagination, was a combina- 
 tion of the same lute and voice by which lie had 
 been enchanted on the preceding day. All the 
 dreams of yesterday morning, so much weakened 
 by the agitating circumstances which he had since 
 undergone, again rose more vivid from their slum- 
 ber, and, planted on the spot where his ear could 
 most conveniently drink in the sounds, Quentin re- 
 mained, with his harquebuss shouldered, his mouth 
 half open, ear, eye, and soul directed to the spot, 
 rather the picture of a sentinel than a living form, 
 without any other idea than that of catching, if pos- 
 sible, each passing sound of the dulcet melody. 
 
 These delightful sounds were but partially heard 
 they languished, lingered, ceased entirely, and 
 were from time to time renewed after uncertain 
 intervals. But, besides that music, like beauty, is 
 often most delightful, or at least most interesting 
 to the imagination, when its charms are but par- 
 tially displayed, and the imagination is left to fill 
 up what is from distance but imperfectly detailed, 
 Quentin had matter enough to fill up his reverie 
 during the intervals of fascination. He could not 
 doubt, from the report of his uncle's comrades, and 
 the scene which had passed in the presence-cham- 
 ber that morning, that the siren who thus delighted 
 his ears, was not, as he had profanely supposed, 
 the daughter or kinswoman of a base caba^etier, 
 but the same disguised and distressed Countess, for 
 whose cause Kings and Princes were now about to 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. i/j 
 
 buckle on armour, and put lance in rest. A hun- 
 dred wild dreams,, such as romantic and adventu- 
 rous youth readily nourished in a romantic and 
 adventurous age, chased from his eyes the bodily 
 presentment of the actual scene, and substituted 
 their own bewildering delusions, when at once, 
 and rudely, they were banished by a rough grasp 
 laid upon his weapon, and a harsh 'voice which ex- 
 claimed, close to his ear, " Ha ! Pasques-dieu, Sir 
 Squire, methinks you keep sleepy ward here ) " 
 
 The voice was the tuneless, yet impressive and 
 ironical tone of Maitre Pierre, and Quentin, sud- 
 denly recalled to himself, saw, with shame and fear, 
 $V that he had, in his reverie, permitted Louis him- 
 self entering probably by some secret door, and 
 gliding along by the wall, or behind the tapestry 
 to approach him so nearly, as almost to master 
 his weapon. 
 
 The first impulse of his surprise was to free his 
 liarquebuss by a violent exertion, which made the 
 King stagger backward into the hall. His next 
 apprehension was, that in obeying the animal in- 
 stinct, as it may be termed, which prompts a brave 
 man to resist an attempt to disarm him, he had 
 aggravated, by a personal struggle with the King, 
 the displeasure produced by the negligence with 
 which he had performed his duty upon guard ; and, 
 under this impression, he recovered his harquebuss 
 without almost knowing what he did, and, having 
 again shouldered it, stood motionless before the 
 Monarch, whom he had reason to conclude he had 
 mortally offended. 
 
 Louis, whose tyrannical disposition was less 
 founded on natural ferocity or cruelty of temper, 
 than on cold-blooded policy and jealous suspicion, 
 
176 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 had, nevertheless, a share of that caustic severity 
 which would have made him a despot in private 
 conversation, and always seemed to enjoy the pain 
 which he inflicted on occasions like the present. 
 But he did not push his triumph far, and contented 
 himself with saying, " Thy service of the morn- 
 ing hath already overpaid some negligence in so 
 young a soldier -*- Hast thou dined ? " 
 
 Quentin, who rather looked to be sent to the 
 Provost-Marshal, than greeted with such a compli- 
 ment, answered humbly in the negative. 
 
 " Poor lad," said Louis, in a softer tone than he 
 usually spoke in, " hunger hath made him drowsy. 
 I know thine appetite is a wolf," he continued ; 
 " and I will save thee from one wild beast as thou 
 didst me from another ; thou hast been prudent 
 too in that matter, and I thank thee for it. Canst 
 thou yet hold out an hour without food ? M 
 
 " Four-and-twenty, Sire," replied Durward, " or 
 I were no true Scot." 
 
 " I would not for another kingdom be the pasty 
 which ^hould encounter thee after such a vigil," 
 said the King , " but the question now is, not of 
 thy dinner, but of my own. I admit to my table 
 this day, and in strict privacy, the Cardinal Balue 
 and this Burgundian this Count de Crevecceur, 
 and something may chance the devil is most 
 busy when foes meet on terms of truce." 
 
 He stopped, and remained silent, with a deep 
 and gloomy look. As the King was in no haste to 
 proceed, Quentin at length ventured to ask what 
 his duty was to be in these circumstances. 
 
 " To keep watch at the beauffet, with thy loaded 
 weapon," said Louis ; " and if there is treason, to 
 shoot the traitor dead." 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 177 
 
 " Treason, Sire ! and in this guarded Castle ! " 
 exclaimed Durward. 
 
 " You think it impossible," said the King, not 
 offended, it would seem, by his frankness ; " but 
 our history has shown that treason can creep into an 
 auger-hole. Treason excluded by guards ! thou 
 silly boy ! quis custodiat ipsos custodes who shall 
 exclude the treason of those very warders ? " 
 
 " Their Scottish honour," answered Durward, 
 boldly. 
 
 "True; most right thou pleasest me," said the 
 King, cheerfully ; " the Scottish honour was ever 
 true, and I trust it accordingly. But treason ! " 
 Here he relapsed into his former gloomy mood, 
 and traversed the apartment with unequal steps 
 " She sits at our feasts, she sparkles in our bowls, 
 she wears the beard of our counsellors, the smiles 
 of our courtiers, the crazy laugh of our jesters 
 above all, she lies hid under the friendly air of a 
 reconciled enemy. Louis of Orleans trusted John 
 of Burgundy he was murdered in the Eue Bar- 
 bette. John of Burgundy trusted the faction of 
 Orleans he was murdered on the Bridge of Monte- 
 reau. (I) I will trust no one no one. Hark ye ; 
 I will keep my eye on that insolent Count ; ay, 
 and on the Churchman too, whom I hold not too 
 faithful. When I say, JScosse, en avant, * shoot 
 Crevecoeur dead on the spot." 
 
 " It is my duty," said Quentin, " your Majesty's 
 life being endangered." 
 
 " Certainly I mean it no otherwise," said the 
 King. " What should I get by slaying this inso- 
 lent soldier ? Were it the Constable Saint Paul 
 indeed " Here he paused, as if he thought he 
 
 1 Forward, Scotland. 
 vol. i. lit 
 
178 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 had said a word too much, but resumed, laughing, 
 "There's our brother-in-law, James of Scotland 
 your own .James, Quentin poniarded the Douglas 
 when on a hospitable visit, within his own royal 
 castle of Skirling." 
 
 " Of Stirling," said Quentin, " and so please your 
 highness. It was a deed of which came little 
 good." 
 
 " Stirling call you the castle ? " said the King, 
 overlooking the latter part of Quentin's speech 
 "Well, let it be Stirling the name is nothing to 
 the purpose. But I meditate no injury to these 
 men none It would serve me nothing. They 
 may not purpose equally fair by me. I rely on 
 thy harquebuss." 
 
 " I shall be prompt at the signal," said Quentin ; 
 "but yet" 
 
 "You hesitate," said the King. "Speak out 
 I give thee full leave. From such as thou art, hints 
 may be caught that are right valuable." 
 
 " I would only presume to say," replied Quentin, 
 "that your Majesty having occasion to distrust 
 this Burgundian, I marvel that you suffer him to 
 approach so near your person, and that in privacy." 
 
 "O content you, Sir Squire," said the King. 
 "There are some dangers, which, when they are 
 braved, disappear, and which yet, when there is an 
 obvious and apparent dread of them displayed, be- 
 come certain and inevitable. When I walk boldly 
 up to a surly mastiff, and caress him, it is ten to 
 one I soothe him to good temper ; if I show fear of 
 Iiim, he flies on me and rends me. I will be thus 
 far frank with thee It concerns me nearly that 
 this man returns not to his headlong master in a 
 resentful humour. I run my risk, therefore. I 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 179 
 
 have never shunned to expose my life for the weal 
 of my kingdom. Follow me." 
 
 Louis led his young Life-guards-man, for whom 
 he seemed to have taken a special favour, through 
 the side-door by which he had himself entered, say- 
 ing, as he showed it him, "He who would thrive 
 at Court must know the private wickets and con- 
 cealed staircases ay, and the traps and pitfalls of 
 the palace, as well as the principal entrances, fold- 
 ing-doors, and portals." 
 
 After several turns and passages, the King en- 
 tered a small vaulted room, where a table was pre- 
 pared for dinner with three covers. The whole 
 furniture and arrangements of the room were plain 
 almost to meanness. A beauffet, or folding and 
 movable cupboard, held a few pieces of gold and 
 silver plate, and was the only article in the chamber 
 which had, in the slightest degree, the appearance 
 of royalty. Behind this cupboard, and completely 
 hidden by it, was the post which Louis assigned to 
 Quentin Durward; and after having ascertained, 
 by going to different parts of the room, that he was 
 invisible from all quarters, he gave him his last 
 charge "Kemember the word, Ucosse, en avant ; 
 and so soon as ever I utter these sounds, throw 
 down the screen spare not for cup or goblet, 
 and be sure thou take good aim at Crevecceur If 
 thy piece fail, cling to him, and use thy knife 
 Oliver and I can deal with the Cardinal." 
 
 Having thus spoken, he whistled aloud, and sum- 
 moned into the apartment Oliver, who was premier- 
 valet of the chamber as well as barber, and who, 
 in fact, performed all offices immediately connected 
 with the King's person, and who now appeared, 
 attended by two old men, who were the only assist- 
 
180 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 ants or waiters at the royal table. So soon as the 
 King had taken his place, the visitors were ad- 
 mitted ; and Quentin, though himself unseen, was 
 so situated as to remark all the particulars of the 
 interview. 
 
 The King welcomed his visitors with a degree of 
 cordiality, which Quentin had the utmost difficulty 
 to reconcile with the directions which he had pre- 
 viously received, and the purpose for which he 
 stood behind the beauffet with his deadly weapon 
 in readiness. Not only did Louis appear totally 
 free from apprehension of any kind, but one would 
 have supposed that those visitors whom he had done 
 the high honour to admit to his table, were the very 
 persons in whom he could most unreservedly confide, 
 and whom he was most willing to honour. Nothing 
 could be more dignified, and at the same time more 
 courteous, than his demeanour. While all around 
 him, including even his own dress, was far beneath 
 the splendour which the petty princes of the king- 
 dom displayed in their festivities, his own language 
 and manners were those of a mighty Sovereign in his 
 most condescending mood. Quentin was tempted 
 to suppose, either that the whole of his previous 
 conversation with Louis had been a dream, or that 
 the dutiful demeanour of the Cardinal, and the frank, 
 open, and gallant bearing of the Burgundian noble, 
 had entirely erased the King's suspicion. 
 
 But whilst the guests, in obedience to the King, 
 were in the act of placing themselves at the table, 
 his Majesty darted one keen glance on them, and 
 then instantly directed his look to Quentin's post. 
 This was done in an instant; but the glance con- 
 veyed so much doubt and hatred towards his guests, 
 such a peremptory injunction on Quentin to be 
 
QUENTIN DURWAKD. 181 
 
 watchful in attendance, and prompt in execution, 
 that no room was left for doubting that the senti- 
 ments of Louis continued unaltered, and his appre- 
 hensions unabated. He was, therefore, more than 
 ever astonished at the deep veil under which that 
 Monarch was able to conceal the movements of his 
 jealous disposition. 
 
 Appearing to have entirely forgotten the language 
 which Crevecceur had held towards him in the face 
 of his Court, the King conversed with him of old 
 times, of events which had occurred during his own 
 exile in the territories of Burgundy, and enquired 
 respecting all the nobles with whom he had ben 
 then familiar, as if that period had indeed been the 
 happiest of his life, and as if he retained towards 
 all who had contributed to soften the term of his 
 exile, the kindest and most grateful sentiments. 
 
 "To an ambassador of another nation," he said, 
 " I would have thrown something of state into our 
 reception ; but to an old friend, who often shared 
 my board at the Castle of Genappes, 1 I wished to 
 show myself, as I love best to live, old Louis of 
 Valois, as simple and plain as any of his Parisian 
 badauds. But I directed them to make some better 
 cheer than ordinary for you, Sir Count, for I know 
 your Burgundian proverb, ' Mieux vault bon repas 
 que bel habit ; ' and therefore I bid them have some 
 care of our table. For our wine, you know well 
 it is the subject of an old emulation betwixt France 
 and Burgundy, which we will presently reconcile ; 
 for I will drink to you in Burgundy, and you, Sir 
 Count, shall pledge me in Champagne. Here, 
 
 1 During bis residence in Burgundy, in his father's lifetime, 
 Genappes was the usual abode of Louis. This period of exile is 
 often alluded to in the novel. 
 
182 QUENTIN DURWA1U). 
 
 Oliver, let me have a cup of Vin cC Auxerre ; " and 
 he hummed gaily a song then well known 
 
 " Auxerre est le boisson des Rois, n 
 
 " Here, Sir Count, I drink to the health of the noble 
 Duke of Burgundy, our kind and loving cousin. 
 Oliver, replenish yon golden cup with Vin de 
 Bheims, and give it to the Count on your knee 
 he represents our loving brother. My Lord Cardi- 
 nal, we will ourself fill your cup." 
 
 " You have already, Sire, even to overflowing," 
 said the Cardinal, with the lowly mien of a favourite 
 towards an indulgent master. 
 
 " Because we know that your Eminence can carry 
 it with a steady hand," said Louis. "But which 
 side do you espouse in the great controversy 
 Sillery or Auxerre France or Burgundy ? " 
 
 " I will stand neutral, Sire," said the Cardinal, 
 " and replenish my cup with Auvernat." 
 
 " A neutral has a perilous part to sustain," said 
 the King ; but as he observed the Cardinal colour 
 somewhat, he glided from the subject, and added, 
 "But you prefer the Auvernat, because it is so 
 noble a wine it endures not water. You, Sir 
 Count, hesitate to empty your cup. I trust you 
 have found no national bitterness at the bottom." 
 
 "I would, Sir," said the Count de Crevecoeur, 
 " that all national quarrels could be as pleasantly 
 ended as the rivalry betwixt our vineyards." 
 
 " With time, Sir Count," answered the King, 
 " with time such time as you have taken to your 
 draught of Champagne. And now that it is 
 finished, favour me by putting the goblet in your 
 bosom, and keeping it as a pledge of our regard. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 183 
 
 It is not to every one that we would part with it. 
 It belonged of yore to that terror of France, Henry 
 Y. of England, and was taken when Eouen was 
 reduced, and those islanders expelled from Normandy 
 by the joint arms of France and Burgundy. It 
 cannot be better bestowed than on a noble and 
 valiant Burgundian, who well knows that on the 
 union of these two nations depends the continuance 
 of the freedom of the continent from the English 
 yoke." 
 
 The Count made a suitable answer, and Louis 
 gave unrestrained way to the satirical gaiety of 
 disposition which sometimes enlivened the darker 
 shades of his character. Leading, of course, the 
 conversation, his remarks, always shrewd and caus- 
 tic, (m) and often actually witty, were seldom good- 
 natured, and the anecdotes with which he illustrated 
 the in were often more humorous than delicate ; 
 but in no one word, syllable, or letter, did he betray 
 the state of mind of one who, apprehensive of assas- 
 sination, hath in his apartment an armed soldier, 
 with his piece loaded, in order to prevent or anti- 
 cipate an attack on his person. 
 
 The Count of Crevecoeur gave frankly in to the 
 King's humour ; while the smooth churchman laughed 
 at every jest, and enhanced every ludicrous idea, 
 without exhibiting any shame at expressions which 
 made the rustic young Scot blush even in his place 
 of concealment. 1 In about an hour and a half the 
 tables were drawn ; and the King, taking courteous 
 leave of his guests, gave the signal that it was his 
 desire to be alone. 
 
 1 The nature of Louis Xlth's coarse humour may be guessed 
 at by those who have perused the " Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles," 
 which are grosser than most similar collections of the age 
 
184 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 So soon as all, even Oliver, had retired, he called 
 Quentin from his place of concealment ; but with a 
 voice so faint, that the youth could scarce believe it 
 to be the same which had so lately given animation 
 to the jest, and zest to the tale. As he approached, 
 he saw an equal change in his countenance. The 
 light of assumed vivacity had left the King's eyes, 
 the smile had deserted his face, and he exhibited 
 all the fatigue of a celebrated actor, when he has 
 finished the exhausting representation of some 
 favourite character, in which, while upon the stage, 
 he had displayed the utmost vivacity. 
 
 "Thy watch is not yet over," said he to Quentin 
 "refresh thyself for an instant yonder table 
 affords the means I will then instruct thee in thy 
 farther duty. Meanwhile, it is ill talking between a 
 full man and a fasting." 
 
 He threw himself back on his seat, covered his 
 brow with his hand, and was silent. 
 
CHAPTEK XI. 
 
 THE HALL OF ROLAND. 
 
 Painters show Cupid blind Hath Hymen eyes 1 
 
 Or is his sight warp'd by those spectacles 
 
 Which parents, guardians, and advisers, lend him, 
 
 That he may look through them on lands and mansions, 
 
 On jewels, gold, and all such rich dotations, 
 
 And see their value ten times magnified ? 
 
 Methinks 'twill brook a question. 
 
 The Miseries of Enforced Marriage. 
 
 Louis the Xlth of France, though the sovereign 
 in Europe who was fondest and most jealous of 
 power, desired only its substantial enjoyment ; and 
 though he knew well enough, and at times exacted 
 strictly, the observances due to his rank, was in 
 general singularly careless of show. 
 
 In a prince of sounder moral qualities, the fami- 
 liarity with which he invited subjects to his board 
 nay, occasionally sat at theirs must have been 
 highly popular ; and even such as he was, the King's 
 homeliness of manners atoned for many of his vices 
 with that class of his subjects who were not particu- 
 larly exposed to the consequences of his suspicion 
 and jealousy. The tiers 6tat, or commons of France, 
 who rose to more opulence and consequence under 
 the reign of this sagacious Prince, respected his 
 person, though they loved him not; and it was 
 resting on their support that he was enabled to 
 make his party good against the hatred of the nobles, 
 
1 86 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 who conceived that he diminished the honour of 
 the French crown, and obscured their own splen- 
 did privileges, by that very neglect of form which 
 gratified the citizens and commons. 
 
 With patience, which most other princes would 
 have considered as degrading, and not without a 
 sense of amusement, the Monarch of France waited 
 till his Life-guards-man had satisfied the keenness 
 of a youthful appetite. It may be supposed, how- 
 ever, that Quentin had too much sense and prudence 
 to put the royal patience to a long or tedious proof ; 
 and indeed he was repeatedly desirous to break 
 off his repast ere Louis would permit him. " I 
 see it in thine eye," he said, good-naturedly, " that 
 thy courage is not half abated. Go on God and 
 Saint Dennis ! charge again. I tell thee that 
 meat and mass " (crossing himself) " never hindered 
 the work of a good Christian man. Take a cup of 
 wine ; but mind thou be cautious of the wine-pot 
 it is the vice of thy countrymen, as well as of the 
 English, who, lacking that 'folly, are the choicest 
 soldiers ever wore armour. And now wash speedily 
 forget not thy bemdicite, and follow me." 
 
 Quentin obeyed, and, conducted by a different, 
 but as mazelike an approach as he had formerly 
 passed, he followed Louis into the Hall of Eoland. 
 
 " Take notice," said the King, imperatively, " thou 
 hast never left this post let that be thine answer 
 to thy kinsman and comrades and, hark thee, to 
 bind the recollection on thy memory, I give thee 
 this gold chain," (flinging on his arm one of con- 
 siderable value.) "If I go not brave myself, those 
 whom I trust have ever the means to ruffle it with 
 the best. But, when such chains as these bind not 
 the tongue from wagging too freely, my gossip, 
 
QUENTIN DURWARt). 187 
 
 L'Hermite, hath an amulet for the throat, which, 
 never fails to work a certain cure. And now attend. 
 No man, save Oliver or I myself, enters here this 
 evening ; but ladies will come hither, perhaps from 
 the one extremity of the hall, perhaps from the 
 other, perhaps one from each. You may answer if 
 they address you, bat, being on duty, your answer 
 must be brief ; and you must neither address them 
 in your turn, nor engage in any prolonged discourse. 
 But hearken to what they say. Thine ears, as 
 well as thy hands, are mine I have bought thee, g 
 body and soul. Therefore, if thou hearest aught of 
 their conversation, thou must retain it in memory 
 until it is communicated to me, and then forget it. 
 And, now I think better on it, it will be best that 
 thou pass for a Scottish recruit, who hath come 
 straight down from his mountains, and hath not yet 
 acquired our most Christian language. Eight. 
 So, if they speak to thee, thou wilt not answer 
 this will free you from embarrassment, and lead 
 them to converse without regard to your presence. 
 You understand me. Farewell. Be wary, and 
 thou hast a friend." 
 
 The King had scarce spoken these words ere he 
 disappeared behind the arras, leaving Quentin to 
 meditate on what he had seen and heard. The 
 youth was in one of those situations from which it 
 is pleasanter to look forward than to look back ; for 
 the reflection that he had been planted like a marks- 
 man in a thicket who watches for a stag, to take 
 the life of the noble Count of Crevecceur, had in it 
 nothing ennobling. It was very true, that the King's 
 measures seemed on this occasion merely cautionary 
 and defensive ; but how did the youth know but 
 he might be soon commanded on some offensive 
 
188 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 operation of the same kind ? This would be an 
 unpleasant crisis, since it was plain, from the char- 
 acter of his master, that there would be destruction 
 in refusing, while his honour told him there would 
 be disgrace in complying. He turned his thoughts 
 from this subject of reflection, with the sage conso- 
 lation so often adopted by youth when prospective 
 dangers intrude themselves on their mind, that it 
 was time enough to think what was to be done when 
 the emergence actually arrived, and that sufficient 
 for the day was the evil thereof. 
 
 Quentin made use of this sedative reflection the 
 more easily, that the last commands of the King 
 had given him something more agreeable to think 
 of than his own condition. The Lady of the Lute 
 was certainly one of those to whom his attention 
 was to be dedicated ; and well in his mind did he 
 promise to obey one part of the King's mandate, 
 and listen with diligence to every word that might 
 drop from her lips, that he might know if the magic 
 of her conversation equalled that of her music. But 
 with as much sincerity did he swear to himself, that 
 no part of her discourse should be reported by him 
 to the King, which might affect the fair speaker 
 otherwise than favourably. 
 
 Meantime, there was no fear of his again slum- 
 bering on his post. Each passing breath of wind, 
 which, finding its way through the open lattice, 
 waved the old arras, sounded like the approach of 
 the fair object of his expectation. He felt, in short, 
 all that mysterious anxiety, and eagerness of 
 expectation, which is always the companion of 
 love, and sometimes hath a considerable share in 
 creating it. 
 
 At length, a door actually creaked and jingled, 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 189 
 
 (for the doors even of palaces did not in the fifteenth 
 century turn on their hinges so noiseless as ours ;) 
 but, alas ! it was not at that end of the hall from 
 which the lute had been heard. It opened, how- 
 ever, and a female figure entered, followed by two 
 others, whom she directed by a sign to remain 
 without, while she herself came forward into the 
 hall. By her imperfect and unequal gait, which 
 showed to peculiar disadvantage as she traversed 
 this long gallery, Quentin at once recognised the 
 Princess Joan, and, with the respect which became 
 his situation, drew himself up in a fitting attitude 
 of silent vigilance, and lowered his weapon to her 
 as she passed. She acknowledged the courtesy by a 
 gracious inclination of her head, and he had an op- 
 portunity of seeing her countenance more distinctly 
 than he had in the morning. 
 
 There was little in the features of this ill-fated 
 Princess to atone for the misfortune of her shape 
 and gait. Her face was, indeed, by no means dis- 
 agreeable in itself, though destitute of beauty ; and 
 there was a meek expression of suffering patience 
 in her large blue eyes, which were commonly fixed 
 upon the ground. But besides that she was ex- 
 tremely pallid in complexion, her skin had the yel- 
 lowish discoloured tinge which accompanies habitual 
 bad health ; and though her teeth were white and 
 regular, her lips were thin and pale. The Princess 
 had a profusion of flaxen hair, but it was so light- 
 coloured, as to be almost of a bluish tinge ; and her 
 tire-woman, who doubtless considered the luxuri- 
 ance of her mistress's tresses as a beauty, had not 
 greatly improved matters, by arranging them in 
 curls around her pale countenance, to which they 
 added an expression almost corpse-like and un- 
 
j 9 o QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 earthly. To make matters still worse, she had 
 chosen a vest or cymar of a pale green silk, which 
 gave her, on the whole, a ghastly and even spectral 
 appearance. t 
 
 While Quentin followed this singular apparition 
 with eyes in which curiosity was blended with com- 
 passion, for every look and motion of the Princess 
 seemed to call for the latter feeling, two ladies 
 entered from the upper end of the apartment. 
 
 One of these was the young person, who, upon 
 Louis's summons, had served him with fruit, while 
 Quentin made his memorable breakfast at the Fleur- 
 de-Lys. Invested now with all the mysterious dig- 
 nity belonging to the nymph of the veil and lute, 
 and proved, besides, (at least in Quentin's estima- 
 tion,) to be the high-born heiress of a rich earldom, 
 her beauty made ten times the impression upon 
 him which it had done when he beheld in her one 
 whom he deemed the daughter of a paltry inn- 
 keeper, in attendance upon a rich and humorous 
 old burgher. He now wondered what fascination 
 could ever have concealed from him her real char- 
 acter. Yet her dress was nearly as simple as before, 
 being a suit of deep mourning, without any orna- 
 ments. Her head-dress was but a veil of crape, 
 which was entirely thrown back, so as to leave her 
 face uncovered; and it was only Quentin's know- 
 ledge of her actual rank, which gave in his estima- 
 tion new elegance to her beautiful shape, a dignity 
 to her step which had before remained unnoticed, 
 and to her regular features, brilliant complexion, 
 and dazzling eyes, an air of conscious nobleness, 
 that enhanced their beauty. 
 
 Had death been the penalty, Durward must 
 needs have rendered to this beauty and her com- 
 
QUENTIN DURWABD 19J 
 
 panion the same homage which he had just paid 
 to the royalty of the Princess. They received it as 
 those who were accustomed to the deference of 
 inferiors, and returned it with courtesy ; but he 
 thought perhaps it was but a youthful vision 
 that the young lady coloured slightly, kept her eyes 
 on the ground, and seemed embarrassed, though in 
 a trifling degree, as she returned his military saluta- 
 tion. This must have been owing to her recollec- 
 tion of the audacious stranger in the neighbouring 
 turret at the Fleur-de-Lys ; but did that discom- 
 posure express displeasure ? This question he had 
 no means to determine. 
 
 The companion of the youthful Countess, dressed 
 like herself simply, and in deep mourning, was at 
 the age when women are apt to cling most closely 
 to that reputation for beauty which has for years 
 been diminishing. She had still remains enough to 
 show what the power of her charms must once have 
 been, and, remembering past triumphs, it was evi- 
 dent from her manner that she had not relinquished 
 the pretensions to future conquests. She was tall 
 and graceful, though somewhat haughty in her 
 deportment, and returned the salute of Quentin with 
 a smile of gracious condescension, whispering, the 
 next instant, something into her companion's ear, 
 who turned towards the soldier, as if to comply with 
 some hint from the elder lady, but answered, never- 
 theless, without raising her eyes. Quentin could 
 not help suspecting that the observation called on 
 the young lady to notice his own good mien ; and 
 . he was (I do not know why) pleased with the idea, 
 that the party referred to did not choose to look at 
 him, in order to verify with her own eyes the truth 
 of the observation. Probably he thought there was 
 
r92 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 already a sort of ' mysterious connexion beginning 
 to exist between them, which gave importance to 
 the slightest trifle. 
 
 This reflection was momentary, for he was in- 
 stantly wrapped up in attention to the meeting of 
 the Princess Joan with these stranger ladies. She 
 had stood still upon their entrance, in order to 
 receive them, conscious, perhaps, that motion did 
 not become her well; and as she was somewhat 
 embarrassed in receiving and repaying their compli- 
 ments, the elder stranger, ignorant of the rank of 
 the party whom she addressed, was led to pay her 
 salutation in a manner, rather as if she conferred 
 than received an honour through the interview. 
 
 " I rejoice, madam," she said, with a smile, which 
 was meant to express condescension at once and 
 encouragement, " that we are at length permitted the 
 society of such a respectable person of our own sex 
 as you appear to be. I must say, that my niece and 
 I have had but little for which to thank the hospi- 
 tality of King Louis Nay, niece, never pluck my 
 sleeve I am sure I read in the looks of this young 
 lady, sympathy for our situation. Since we came 
 hither, fair madam, we have been used little better 
 than mere prisoners ; and after a thousand invita- 
 tions to throw our cause and our persons under the 
 protection of France, the Most Christian King has 
 afforded us at first but a base inn for our residence, 
 and now a corner of this moth-eaten palace, out of 
 which we are only permitted to creep towards sun- 
 set, as if we were bats or owls, whose appearance 
 in the sunshine is to be held matter of ill omen/* 
 
 "I am sorry," said the Princess, faltering with 
 the awkward embarrassment of the interview, " that 
 we have been unable, hitherto, to receive you 
 
QUENT1N DURWARD. 193 
 
 according to your deserts. Your niece, I trust, is 
 better satisfied ? " 
 
 "Much much better than I can express," 
 answered the youthful Countess "I sought but 
 safety, and I have found solitude and secrecy besides. 
 The seclusion of our former residence, and the still 
 greater solitude of that now assigned to us, augment, 
 in my eye, the favour which the King vouchsafed 
 to us unfortunate fugitives." 
 
 "Silence, my silly cousin," said the elder lady, 
 " and let us speak according to our conscience, since 
 at last we are alone with one of our own sex I say 
 alone, for that handsome young soldier is a mere 
 statue, since he seems not to have the use of his 
 limbs, and I am given to understand he wants that 
 of his tongue, at least in civilized language I say, 
 since no one but this lady can understand us, I must 
 own there is nothing I have regretted equal to tak- 
 ing this French journey. I looked for a splendid # 
 reception, tournaments, carousals, pageants, and fes- 
 tivals ; and instead of which, all has been seclusion 
 and obscurity ! and the best society whom the King 
 introduced to us, was a Bohemian vagabond, by 
 whose agency he directed us to correspond with our 
 friends in Flanders. Perhaps," said the lady, " it 
 is his politic intention to mew us up here until our 
 lives' end, that he may seize on our estates, after 
 the extinction of the ancient house of Croye. The 
 Duke of Burgundy was not so cruel ; he offered my 
 niece a husband, though he was a bad one." 
 
 " I should have thought the veil preferable to an 
 evil husband," said the Princess, with difficulty 
 finding opportunity to interpose a word. 
 
 "One would at least wish to have the choice, 
 madam," replied the voluble dame. " It is, Heaven 
 
 VOL. I. 13 
 
194 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 knows, on account of my niece that I speak ; fot 
 myself, I have long laid aside thoughts of changing 
 my condition. I see you smile, but, by my halidome 
 it is true yet that is no excuse for the King, whose 
 conduct, like his person, hath more resemblance to 
 that of old Michaud, the money-changer of Ghent, 
 than to the successor of Charlemagne." 
 
 " Hold ! " said the Princess, w r ith some asperity 
 in her tone ; " remember you speak of my father." 
 
 "Of your father!" replied the Burgundian lady 
 in surprise. 
 
 " Of my father," repeated the Princess, with 
 dignity. " I am Joan of France.(yi) But fear not, 
 madam," she continued, in the gentle accent which 
 was natural to her, " you designed no offence, and 
 I have taken none. Command my influence to 
 render your exile, and that of this interesting young 
 person, more supportable. Alas ! it is but little I 
 have in my power ; but it is willingly offered." 
 
 Deep and submissive was the reverence with 
 which the Countess Hameline de Croye, so was the 
 elder lady called, received the obliging offer of the 
 Princess's protection. She had been long the inhab- 
 itant of Courts, was mistress of the manners which 
 are there acquired, and held firmly the established 
 rule of courtiers of all ages, who, although their usual 
 private conversation turns upon the vices and follies 
 of their patrons, and on the injuries and neglect 
 which they themselves have sustained, never suffer 
 such hints to drop from them in the presence of the 
 Sovereign or those of his family. The lady was, 
 therefore, scandalized to the last degree at the mis- 
 take which had induced her to speak so indecor- 
 ously in presence of the daughter of Louis. She 
 would have exhausted herself in expressing regret 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 195 
 
 and making apologies, had she not been put to silence 
 and restored to equanimity by the Princess, who 
 requested, in the most gentle manner, yet which, 
 from .a Daughter of France, had the weight of a 
 command, that no more might be said in the way 
 either of excuse or of explanation. 
 
 The Princess Joan then took her own chair with 
 a dignity which became her, and compelled the two 
 strangers to sit, one on either hand, to which the 
 younger consented with unfeigned and respectful 
 diffidence, and the elder with an affectation of deep 
 humility and deference, which was intended for such. 
 They spoke together, but in such a low tone, that 
 the sentinel could not overhear their discourse, and 
 only remarked, that the Princess seemed to bestow 
 much of her regard on the younger and more inter- 
 esting lady ; and that the Countess Hameline, though 
 speaking a great deal more, attracted less of the Prin- 
 cess's attention by her full flow of conversation and 
 compliment, than did her kinswoman by her brief 
 and modest replies to what was addressed to her. 
 
 The conversation of the ladies had not lasted a 
 quarter of an hour, when the door at the lower end 
 of the hall opened, and a man entered shrouded in 
 a riding-cloak. Mindful of the King's injunction, 
 and determined not to be a second time caught 
 slumbering, Quentin instantly moved towards the 
 intruder, and, interposing between him and the 
 ladies, requested him to retire instantly. 
 
 " By whose command ? " said the stranger, in a 
 tone of contemptuous surprise. 
 
 " By that of the King," said Quentin, firmly, 
 "which I am placed here to enforce." 
 
 " Not against Louis of Orleans," said the Duke, 
 dropping his cloak. 
 
ro<5 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 The young man hesitated a moment; but how- 
 enforce his orders against the first Prince of the 
 blood, about to be allied, as the report now gene- 
 rally went, with the King's own family ? 
 
 "Your Highness," he said, "is too great that 
 your pleasure should be withstood by me. I trust 
 your Highness will bear me witness that I have 
 done the duty of my post, so far as your will 
 permitted." 
 
 "Go to you shall have no blame, young sol- 
 dier," said Orleans ; and passing forward, paid his 
 compliments to the Princess, with that air of con- 
 straint which always marked his courtesy when 
 addressing her. 
 
 "He had been dining," he sa.id, "with Dunois, 
 and understanding there was society in Eoland's 
 Gallery, he had ventured on the freedom of adding 
 one to the number." 
 
 The colour which mounted into the pale cheek 
 of the unfortunate Joan, and which for the mo- 
 ment spread something of beauty over her features, 
 evinced that this addition to the company was any 
 thing but indifferent to her. She hastened to present 
 the Prince to the two ladies of Croye, who re- 
 ceived him with the respect due to his eminent 
 rank; and the Princess, pointing to a chair, re- 
 quested him to join their conversation party. 
 
 The Duke declined the freedom of assuming a 
 seat in such society ; but taking a cushion from one 
 of the settles, he laid it at the feet of the beautiful 
 young Countess of Croye, and so seated himself, 
 that, without appearing to neglect the Princess, he 
 was enabled to bestow the greater share of his at- 
 tention on her lovely neighbour. 
 
 At first, it seemed as if this arrangement rather 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 197 
 
 pleased than offended his destined bride. She en- 
 couraged the Duke in his gallantries towards the 
 fair stranger, and seemed to regard them as com- 
 plimentary to .herself. But the Duke of Orleans, 
 though accustomed to subject his mind to the stern 
 yoke of his uncle, when in the King's presence, had 
 enough of princely nature to induce him to follow 
 his own inclinations whenever that restraint was 
 withdrawn ; and his high rank giving him a right 
 to overstep the ordinary ceremonies, and advance 
 at once to familiarity, his praises of the Countess 
 Isabelle's beauty became so energetic, and flowed 
 with such unrestrained freedom, owing perhaps to 
 his having drunk a little more wine than usual 
 for Dunois was no enemy to the worship of Bacchus 
 that at length he seemed almost impassioned, 
 and the presence of the Princess appeared wellnigh 
 forgotten. 
 
 The tone of compliment which he indulged was 
 grateful only to one individual in the circle ; for the 
 Countess Hameline already anticipated the dignity 
 of an alliance with the first Prince of the blood, by 
 means of her whose birth, beauty, and large posses- 
 sions, rendered such an ambitious consummation 
 by no means impossible, even in the eyes of a less 
 sanguine projector, could the views of Louis XL 
 have been left out of the calculation of chances. 
 The younger Countess listened to the Duke's gal- 
 lantries with anxiety and embarrassment, and ever 
 and anon turned an entreating look towards the 
 Princess, as if requesting her to come to her relief. 
 But the wounded feelings, and the timidity of Joan 
 of France, rendered her incapable of an effort to make 
 the conversation more general ; and at length, ex- 
 cepting a few interjectional civilities of the Lady 
 
198 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 Hameline, it was maintained almost exclusively by 
 the Duke himself, though at the expense of the 
 younger Countess of Croye, whose beauty formed 
 the theme of his high-flown eloquence. 
 
 Nor must I forget that there was a third person, 
 the unregarded sentinel, who saw his fair visions 
 melt away like wax before the sun, as the Duke 
 persevered in the warm tenor of his passionate dis- 
 course. At length the Countess Isabelle de Croye 
 made a determined effort to cut short what was 
 becoming intolerably disagreeable to her, especially 
 from the pain to which the conduct of the Duke 
 was apparently subjecting the Princess. 
 
 Addressing the latter, she said, modestly, but 
 with some firmness, that the first boon she had to 
 claim from her promised protection was, " that her 
 Highness would undertake to convince the Duke of 
 Orleans, that the ladies of Burgundy, though inferior 
 in wit and manners to those of France, were not such 
 absolute fools, as to be pleased with no other conver- 
 sation than that of extravagant compliment." 
 
 " I grieve, lady," said the Duke, preventing the 
 Princess's answer, "that you will satirize, in the 
 same sentence, the beauty of the dames of Bur- 
 gundy, and the sincerity of the knights of France. 
 If we are hasty and extravagant in the expression 
 of our admiration, it is because we love as we fight, 
 without letting cold deliberation come into our 
 bosoms, and surrender to the fair with the same 
 rapidity with which we defeat the valiant." 
 
 "The beauty of our countrywomen," said the 
 young Countess, with more of reproof than she had 
 yet ventured to use towards the high-born suitor, 
 " is as unfit to claim such triumphs, as the valour of 
 the men of Burgundy is incapable of yielding them. ,r 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 199 
 
 "I respect your patriotism, Countess," said the 
 Duke ; " and the last branch of your theme shall 
 not be impugned by me, till a Burgundian knight 
 shall offer to sustain it with lance in rest. But for 
 the injustice which you have done to the charms 
 which your land produces, I appeal from yourself 
 to yourself. Look there," he said, pointing to a 
 large mirror, " the gift of the Venetian republic, and 
 then of the highest rarity and value, " and tell me, 
 as you look, what is the heart that can resist the 
 charms there represented ? " 
 
 The Princess, unable to sustain any longer the 
 neglect of her lover, here sunk backwards on her 
 chair, with a sigh, which at once recalled the Duke 
 from the land of romance, and induced the Lady 
 Hameline to ask whether her Highness found 
 herself ill. 
 
 " A sudden pain shot through my forehead," said 
 the Princess, attempting to smile ; " but I shall be 
 presently better." 
 
 Her increasing paleness contradicted her words, 
 and induced the Lady Hameline to call for assist- 
 ance, as the Princess was about to faint. 
 
 The Duke, biting his lip, and cursing the folly 
 which could not keep guard over his tongue, ran to 
 summon the Princess's attendants, who were in the 
 next chamber ; and when they came hastily, with 
 the usual remedies, he could not but, as a cavalier 
 and gentleman, give his assistance to support and to 
 recover her. His voice, rendered almost tender by 
 pity and self-reproach, was the most powerful means 
 of recalling her to herself, and just as the swoon 
 was passing away, the King himself entered the 
 apartment. 
 
CHAPTEK XIL 
 
 THE POLITICIAN. 
 
 This is a lecturer so skilPd in policy, 
 That (no disparagement to Satan's cunning) 
 He well might read a lesson to the devil, 
 And teach the old seducer new temptations. 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 As Louis entered the Gallery, he bent his brows in 
 the manner we have formerly described as peculiar 
 to him, and sent, from under his gathered and 
 gloomy eyebrows, a keen look on all around; in 
 darting which, as Quentin afterwards declared, his 
 eyes seemed to turn so small, so fierce, and so piercing, 
 as to resemble those of an aroused adder looking 
 through the bush of heath in which he lies coiled. 
 
 When, by this momentary and sharpened glance, 
 the King had reconnoitred the cause of the bustle 
 which was in the apartment, his first address was to 
 the Duke of Orleans. 
 
 " You here, my fair cousin ? " he said ; and 
 turning to Quentin, added sternly, "Had you not 
 charge ? " 
 
 " Forgive the young man, Sire," said the Duke ; 
 " he did not neglect his duty ; but I was informed 
 that the Princess was in this gallery." 
 
 "And I warrant you would not be withstood 
 when you came hither to pay your court," . said the 
 King, whose detestable hypocrisy persisted in repre- 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 201 
 
 senting the Duke as participating in a passion which 
 was felt only on the side of his unhappy daughter ; 
 " and it is thus you debauch the sentinels of my 
 guard, young man? But what cannot be pardoned 
 to a gallant who only lives par amours ! " 
 
 The Duke of Orleans raised his head, as if about 
 to reply, in some manner which might correct the 
 opinion conveyed in the King's observation ; but 
 the instinctive reverence, not to say fear, of Louis, 
 in which he had been bred from childhood, chained 
 up his voice. 
 
 " And Joan hath been ill ? " said the King ; * but 
 do not be grieved, Louis ; it will soon pass away ; 
 lend her your arm to her apartment, while I will 
 conduct these strange ladies to theirs." 
 
 The order was given in a tone which amounted 
 to a command, and Orleans accordingly made his 
 exit with the Princess at one extremity of the 
 gallery, while the King, ungloving his right hand, 
 courteously handed the Countess Isabelle and her 
 kinswoman to their apartment, which opened from 
 the other. He bowed profoundly as they entered, 
 and remained standing on the threshold for a min- 
 ute after they had disappeared; then, with great 
 composure, shut the door by which they had retired, 
 and turning the huge key, took it from the lock and 
 put it into his girdle, an appendage which gave 
 him still more perfectly the air of some old miser, 
 who cannot journey in comfort unless he bear with 
 him the key of his treasure closet. 
 
 With slow and pensive step, and eyes fixed on the 
 ground, Louis now paced towards Quentin Durward, 
 who, expecting his share of the royal displeasure, 
 viewed his approach with no little anxiety. 
 
 "Thou hast done wrong," said the King, raising 
 
202 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 his eyes, and fixing them firmly on him when h<s 
 had come within a yard of him, " thou hast done 
 foul wrong, and deservest to die. Speak no,t a 
 word in defence ! What hadst thou to do with 
 Dukes or Princesses ? what with any thing but 
 my order ? " 
 
 " So please your Majesty," said the young soldier, 
 " what could I do ? " 
 
 " What couldst thou do when thy post was forcibly 
 passed ? " answered the King, scornfully, " What 
 is the use of that weapon on thy shoulder ? Thou 
 shouldst have levelled thy piece, and if the pre- 
 sumptuous rebel did not retire on the instant, he 
 should have died within this very hall ! Go pass 
 into these farther apartments. In the first thou 
 wilt find a large staircase, which leads to the inner 
 Bailley ; there thou wilt find Oliver Dain. Send 
 him to me do thou begone to thy quarters. As 
 thou dost value thy life, be not so loose of thy tongue 
 as thou hast been this day slack of thy hand." 
 
 Well pleased to escape so easily, yet with a soul 
 which revolted at the cold-blooded cruelty which 
 the King seemed to require from him in the exe- 
 cution of his duty, Durward took the road indicated, 
 hastened down stairs, and communicated the royal 
 pleasure to Oliver, who was waiting in the court be- 
 neath. The wily tonsor bowed, sighed, and smiled, 
 as, with a voice even softer than ordinary, he wished 
 the youth a good evening ; and they parted, Quentin 
 to his quarters, and Oliver to attend the King. 
 
 In this place, the Memoirs which we have chiefly 
 followed in compiling this true history, were un- 
 happily defective ; for, founded chiefly on informa- 
 tion supplied by Quentin, they do not convey the 
 purport of the dialogue which, in his absence, took 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 203 
 
 place between the King and his secret counsellor. 
 Fortunately, the Library of Hautlieu contains a 
 manuscript copy of the Chronique Scandaleuse of 
 Jean de Troyes, (0) much more full than that which 
 has been printed ; to which are added several curi- 
 ous memoranda, which we incline to think must have 
 been written down by Oliver himself after the death 
 of his master, and before he had the happiness to 
 be rewarded with the halter which he had so long 
 merited. From this we have been able to extract 
 a very full account of the obscure favourite's con- 
 versation with Louis upon the present occasion, 
 which throws a light upon the policy of that 
 Prince, which we might otherwise have sought for 
 in vain. 
 
 When the favourite -attendant entered the Gal- 
 lery of Roland, he found the King pensively seated 
 upon the chair which his daughter had left some 
 minutes before. Well acquainted with his temper, 
 he glided on with his noiseless step until he had 
 just crossed the line of the King's sight, so as to 
 make him aware of his presence, then shrank mod- 
 estly backward and out of sight, until he should 
 be summoned to speak or to listen. The Monarch's 
 first address was an unpleasant one : " So, Oliver, 
 your fine schemes are melting like snow before the 
 south wind ! 1 pray to. our Lady of Embrun that 
 they resemble not the ice-heaps of which the Swit- 
 zer churls tell such stories, and come rushing down 
 upon our heads." 
 
 " I have heard with concern that all is not well, 
 Sire," answered Oliver. 
 
 " Not well ! " exclaimed the King, rising and 
 hastily marching up and down the gallery, " All 
 is ill, man and as ill nearly as possible ; so much 
 
204 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 for thy fond romantic advice, that I, of all men, 
 should become a protector of distressed damsels! 
 I tell thee Burgundy is arming, and on the eve of 
 closing an alliance with England. And Edward, 
 who hath his hands idle at home, will pour his thou- 
 sands upon us through that unhappy gate of Calais. 
 Singly, I might cajole or defy them ; but united, 
 united and with the discontent and treachery of 
 that villain Saint Paul ! All thy fault, Oliver, who 
 counselled me to receive the women, and to use the 
 services of that damned Bohemian to carry mes- 
 sages to their* vassals." 
 
 " My liege," said Oliver, " you know my reasons. 
 The Countess's domains lie between the frontiers 
 of Burgundy and Flanders her castle is almost 
 impregnable her rights over neighbouring estates 
 are such as, if well supported, cannot but give much 
 annoyance to Burgundy, were the lady but wedded 
 to one who should be friendly to France." 
 
 " It is, it is a tempting bait," said the King ; 
 " and could we have concealed her being here, we 
 might have arranged such a marriage for this rich 
 heiress, as would have highly profited France. 
 But that cursed Bohemian, how couldst thou re- 
 commend such a heathen hound for a commission 
 which required trust ? " 
 
 " Please you," said Oliver, " to remember, it was 
 your Majesty's self who trusted him too far much 
 farther than I recommended. He would have borne 
 a letter trustily enough to the Countess's kinsman, 
 telling him to hold out her castle, and promising 
 speedy relief ; but your Highness must needs put 
 his prophetic powers to the test ; and thus he be- 
 came possessed of secrets which were worth betray- 
 ing to Duke Charles." 
 

 QUENTIN DURWARD. 205 
 
 " I am ashamed, I am ashamed," said Louis. 
 "And yet, Oliver, they say that these heathen 
 people are descended from the sage Chaldeans, who 
 did read the mysteries of the stars in the plains of 
 Shinar." 
 
 Well aware that his master, with all his acute- 
 ness and sagacity, was but the more prone to be 
 deceived by soothsayers, astrologers, diviners, and 
 all that race of pretenders to occult science, and that 
 he even conceived himself to have some skill in these 
 arts, Oliver dared to press this point no farther; 
 and only observed that the Bohemian had been a 
 bad prophet on his own account, else he would have 
 avoided returning to Tours, and saved himself from 
 the gallows he had merited. 
 
 " It often happens that those who are gifted with 
 prophetic knowledge," answered Louis, with much 
 gravity, "have not the power of foreseeing those 
 events in which they themselves are personally 
 interested." 
 
 " Under your Majesty's favour," replied the con- 
 fidant, " that seems as if a man could not see his 
 own hand by means of the candle which he holds, 
 and which shows him every other object in the 
 apartment." 
 
 " He cannot see his own features by the light 
 which shows the faces of others," replied Louis ; 
 " and that is the more faithful illustration of the 
 case. But this is foreign to my purpose at present. 
 The Bohemian hath had his reward, and peace be 
 with him. But these ladies Not only does Bur- 
 gundy threaten us with war for harbouring them, 
 but their presence is like to interfere with my pro- 
 jects in my own family. My simple cousin of 
 Orleans hath barely seen this damsel, and I venture 
 
206 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 to prophesy that the sight of her is like to make 
 him less pliable in the matter of his alliance with 
 Joan." 
 
 " Your Majesty," answered the counsellor, " may 
 send the ladies of Croye back to Burgundy, and so 
 make your peace with the Duke. Many might 
 murmur at this as dishonourable ; but if necessity 
 demands the sacrifice " 
 
 " If profit demanded the sacrifice, Oliver, the 
 sacrifice should be made without hesitation," an- 
 swered the King. " I am an old experienced sal- 
 mon, and use not to gulp the angler's hook because 
 it is busked up with a feather called honour. But 
 what is worse than a lack of honour, there were, in 
 returning those ladies to Burgundy, a forfeiture of 
 those views of advantage which moved us to give 
 them an asylum. It were heart-breaking to renounce 
 the opportunity of planting a friend to ourselves, 
 and an enemy to Burgundy, in the very centre of 
 his dominions, and so near to the discontented cities 
 of Flanders. Oliver, I cannot relinquish the advan- 
 tages which our scheme of marrying the maiden to 
 a friend of our own house seems to hold out to us." 
 
 " Your Majesty," said Oliver, after a moment's 
 thought, " might confer her hand on some right 
 trusty friend, who would take all blame on himself, 
 and serve your Majesty secretly, while in public 
 you might disown him." 
 
 " And where am I to find such a friend ? " said 
 Louis. " Were I to bestow her upon any one of 
 our mutinous and ill-ruled nobles, would it not be 
 rendering him independent ? and hath it not been 
 my policy for years to prevent them from becoming 
 so ? Dunois indeed him, and him only, I might 
 perchance trust. He would fight for the crown of 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 207 
 
 France, whatever were his condition. But honours 
 and wealth change men's natures Even Dunois I 
 will not trust." 
 
 " Your Majesty may find others," said Oliver, 
 in his smoothest manner, and in a tone more insi- 
 nuating than that which he usually employed in 
 conversing with the King, who permitted him con- 
 siderable freedom ; " men dependent entirely on 
 your own grace and favour, and who could no more 
 exist without your countenance than without sun 
 or air men rather of head than of action men 
 who" 
 
 "Men who resemble thyself, ha!" said King 
 Louis. " No, Oliver, by my faith that arrow was 
 too rashly shot ! What ! because I indulge thee 
 with my confidence, and let thee, in reward, poll 
 my lieges a little now and then, dost thou think it 
 makes thee fit to be the husband of that beautiful 
 vision, and a Count of the highest class to the 
 boot? thee thee, I say, low-born and lower- j 
 bred, whose wisdom is at best a sort of cunning, and 
 whose courage is more than doubtful ? " 
 
 " Your Majesty imputes to me a presumption of 
 which I am not guilty, in supposing me to aspire so 
 highly," said Oliver. 
 
 " I am glad to hear it, man," replied the King ; 
 "and truly, I hold your judgment the healthier 
 that you disown such a reverie. But methinks thy 
 speech sounded strangely in that key. Well, to 
 return. I dare not wed this beauty to one of my 
 subjects I dare not return her to Burgundy I 
 dare not transmit her to England, or to Germany, 
 where she is likely to become the prize of some 
 one more apt to unite with Burgundy than with 
 France, and who would be more ready to discourage 
 
208 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 the honest malecontents in Ghent and Liege, than 
 to yield them that wholesome countenance which 
 might always find Charles the Hardy enough to 
 exercise his valour on, without stirring from his 
 own domains and they were in so ripe a humour 
 for insurrection, the men of Liege in especial, that 
 they alone, well heated and supported, would find 
 my fair cousin work for more than a twelvemonth ; 
 and backed by a warlike Count of Croye, 0, 
 Oliver ! the plan is too hopeful to be resigned with- 
 out a struggle. Cannot thy fertile brain devise 
 some scheme ? " 
 
 Oliver paused for a long time then at last 
 replied, " What if a bridal could be accomplished 
 betwixt Isabelle of Croye, and young Adolphus, the 
 Duke of Gueldres ? " 
 
 " What," said the King, in astonishment ; " sa- 
 crifice her, and she, too, so lovely a creature, to the 
 furious wretch who deposed, imprisoned, and has 
 often threatened to murder, his own father ! No, 
 Oliver, no that were too unutterably cruel even 
 for you arid me, who look so steadfastly to our 
 excellent end, the peace and the welfare of France, 
 and respect so little the means by which it is 
 attained. Besides, he lies distant from us, and is 
 detested by the people of Ghent and Liege. No, 
 no I will none of Adolphus of Gueldres think 
 on some one else." 
 
 " My invention is exhausted, Sire," said the coun- 
 sellor ; " I can remember no one who, as husband 
 to the Countess of Croye, would be likely to answer 
 your Majesty's views. He must unite such various 
 qualities a friend to your Majesty an enemy to 
 Burgundy of policy enough to conciliate the 
 Gauntois and Liegeois, and of valour sufficient to 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 209 
 
 defend his little dominions against the power of 
 Duke Charles Of noble birth besides that your 
 Highness insists upon ; and of excellent and most 
 virtuous character, to the boot of all." 
 
 " Nay, Oliver," said the King, " I leaned not so 
 much that is, so very much, on character ; but 
 methinks Isabelle's bridegroom should be something 
 less publicly and generally abhorred than Adolphus 
 of Gueldres. For example, since I myself must sug- 
 gest some one, why not William de la Marck ? " * 
 
 " On my halidome, Sire," said Oliver, " I can- 
 not complain of your demanding too high a stan- 
 dard of moral excellence in the happy man, if the 
 Wild Boar of Ardennes can serve your turn. De 
 la Marck ! why, he is the most notorious robber 
 and murderer on all the frontiers excommuni- 
 cated by the Pope for a thousand crimes." 
 
 " We will have him released from the sentence, 
 friend Oliver Holy Church is merciful." 
 
 " Almost an outlaw," continued Oliver, " and 
 under the ban of the Empire, by an ordinance of 
 the Chamber at Ratisbon." 
 
 " We will have the ban taken off, friend Oliver," 
 continued the King, in the same tone ; " the Im- 
 perial Chamber will hear reason." 
 
 " And admitting him to be of noble birth," said 
 Oliver, "he hath the manners, the face, and the 
 outward form, as well as the heart, of a Flemish 
 butcher She will never accept of him." 
 
 "His mode of wooing, if I mistake him not," 
 said Louis, " will render it difficult for her to make 
 a choice." 
 
 " I was far wrong indeed, when I taxed your Ma- 
 jesty with being over scrupulous," said the coun- 
 sellor. " On my life, the crimes of Adolphus are 
 
210 QUENTIN DURWARD 
 
 but virtues to those of De la Marck ! And then 
 how is he to meet with his bride ? Your Majesty 
 knows he dai 3 not stir far from his own Forest of 
 Ardennes." 
 
 " That must be cared for," said the King ; " and, 
 in the first place, the two ladies must be acquainted 
 privately that they can be no longer maintained at 
 this Court, except at the expense of a war between 
 France and Burgundy, and that, unwilling to de- 
 liver them up to my fair cousin of Burgundy, I 
 am desirous they should secretly depart from my 
 dominions." 
 
 " They will demand to be conveyed to England," 
 said Oliver ; " and we shall have her return to 
 Flanders with an island lord, having a round fair 
 face, long brown hair, and three thousand archers at 
 his back." 
 
 " No no," replied the King ; " we dare not (you 
 understand me) so far offend our fair cousin of Bur- 
 gundy as to let her pass to England It would 
 bring his displeasure as certainly as our maintain- 
 ing her here. No, no to the safety of the Church 
 alone we will venture to commit her ; and the ut- 
 most we can do is to connive at the Ladies Hame- 
 line and Isabelle de Croye departing in disguise, 
 and with a small retinue, to take refuge with the 
 Bishop of Liege, who will place the fair Isabelle 
 for the time, under the safeguard of a. convent." 
 
 "And if that convent protect her from William 
 de la Marck, when he knows of your Majesty's fav- 
 ourable intentions, I have mistaken the man." 
 
 " Why, yes," answered the King, " thanks to our 
 secret supplies of money, De la Marck hath to- 
 gether a handsome handful of as unscrupulous 
 soldiery as ever were outlawed ; with which he 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 211 
 
 contrives to maintain himself among, the woods, in 
 such a condition as makes him formidable both to 
 the Duke of Burgundy and the Bishop of Liege. He 
 lacks nothing but some territory which he may call 
 his own ; and this being so fair an opportunity to 
 establish himself by marriage, I think that, Pasques- 
 dieu ! he will find means to win and wed, without 
 more than a hint on our part. The Duke of Bur- 
 gundy will then have such a thorn in his side, as 
 j jo lancet of our time will easily cut out from his 
 ilesh. The Boar of Ardennes, whom he has already 
 outlawed, strengthened by the possession of that 
 fair lady's lands, castles, and seigniory, with the 
 discontented Liegeois to boot, who, by my faith, 
 will not be in that case unwilling to choose him for 
 their captain and leader let Charles then think of 
 wars with France when he will, or rather let him 
 bless his stars if she war not with him. How dost 
 thou like the scheme, Oliver, ha ? " 
 
 " Barely," said Oliver, " save and except the 
 doom which confers that lady on the Wild Boar of 
 Ardennes. By my halidome, saving in a little out- 
 ward show of gallantry, Tristan, the Provost-Marshal, 
 were the more proper bridegroom of the two." 
 
 " Anon thou didst propose Master Oliver the 
 barber," said Louis ; " but friend Oliver and gossip 
 Tristan, though excellent men in the way of coun- 
 sel and execution, are not the stuff that men make 
 Counts of. Know you not that the burghers of 
 Flanders value birth in other men, precisely be- 
 cause they have it not themselves ? A plebeian 
 mob ever desire an aristocratic leader. Yonder 
 Ked, or Cade, or how called they him ? in Eng- 
 land, was fain to lure his rascal rout after him, by 
 pretending to the blood of the Mortimers. William 
 
2i 2 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 de la Marck comes of the blood of the princes oi 
 Sedan, as noble as mine own. And now to busi- 
 ness. I must determine the ladies of Croye to a 
 speedy and secret flight, under sure guidance. This 
 will be easily done we have but to hint the alter- 
 native of surrendering them to Burgundy. Thou 
 must find means to let William de la Marck know 
 of their motions, and let him choose his own time 
 and place to push his suit. I know a fit person to 
 travel with them." 
 
 " May I ask to whom your Majesty commits such 
 an important charge ? " asked the tonsor. 
 
 "To a foreigner, be sure," replied the King; 
 " one who has neither kin nor interest in France, 
 to interfere with the execution of my pleasure ; and 
 who knows too little of the country, and its factions, 
 to suspect more of my purpose than I choose to tell 
 him in a word, I design to employ the young Scot 
 who sent you hither but now." 
 
 Oliver paused in a manner which seemed to im- 
 ply a doubt of the prudence of the choice, and then 
 added, " Your Majesty has reposed confidence in 
 that stranger boy earlier than is your wont." 
 
 " I have my reasons," answered the King. 
 " Thou knowest " (and he crossed himself) " my de- 
 votion for the blessed Saint Julian. I had been say- 
 ing my orisons to that holy Saint late in the night 
 before last, wherein (as he is known to be the 
 guardian of travellers) I made it my humble peti- 
 tion that he would augment my household with 
 such wandering foreigners, as might best establish 
 throughout our kingdom unlimited devotion to our 
 will; and I vowed to the good Saint in guerdon, 
 that I would, in his name, receive, and relieve, and 
 maintain them." 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 213 
 
 " And did Saint Julian," said Oliver, " send your 
 Majesty this long-legged importation from Scotland 
 in answer to your prayers ? " 
 
 Although the barber, who well knew that his 
 master had superstition in a large proportion to his 
 want of religion, and that on such topics nothing 
 was more easy than to offend him although, I say, 
 he knew the royal weakness, and therefore carefully 
 put the preceding question in the softest and most 
 simple tone of voice, Louis felt the innuendo which 
 it contained, and regarded the speaker with high 
 displeasure. 
 
 "Sirrah," he said, "thou art well called Oliver 
 the Devil, who darest thus to sport at once with 
 thy master and with the blessed Saints. I tell 
 thee, wert thou one grain less necessary to me, I 
 would have thee hung up on yonder oak before the 
 Castle, as an example to all who scoff at things 
 holy ! Know, thou infidel slave, that mine eyes 
 were no sooner closed, than the blessed Saint Ju- 
 lian was visible to me, leading a young man, whom 
 he presented to me, saying, that his fortune should 
 be to escape the sword, the cord, the river, and to 
 bring good fortune to the side which he should 
 espouse, and to the adventures in which he should 
 be engaged. I walked out on the succeeding morn- 
 ing, and I met with this youth, whose image I had 
 seen in my dream. In his own country he hath 
 escaped the sword, amid the massacre of his whole 
 family, and here, within the brief compass of two 
 days, he hath been strangely rescued from drown- 
 ing and from the gallows, and hath already, on a 
 particular occasion, as I but lately hinted to thee, 
 been of the most material service to me. I receive 
 him as sent hither by Saint Julian, to serve me in 
 
214 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 the most difficult, the most dangerous, and even the 
 most desperate services." 
 
 The King, as he thus expressed himself, doffed 
 his hat, and selecting from the numerous little 
 leaden figures with which the hat-band was gar- 
 nished that which represented Saint Julian, he 
 placed it on the table, as was often his wont when 
 some peculiar feeling of hope, or perhaps of remorse, 
 happened to thrill across his mind, and, kneeling 
 down before it, muttered, with an appearance of 
 profound devotion, " Sancte Juliane, adsis precibus 
 nostris ! Ora, ora, pro nobis ! " 
 
 This was one of those ague-fits of superstitious 
 devotion which often seized on Louis in such ex- 
 traordinary times and places, that they gave one of 
 the most sagacious Monarchs who ever reigned, the 
 appearance of a madman, or at least of one whose 
 mind was shaken by some deep consciousness of 
 guilt. 
 
 While he was thus employed, his favourite looked 
 at him with an expression of sarcastic contempt, 
 which he scarce attempted to disguise. Indeed it 
 was one of this man's peculiarities, that, in his whole 
 intercourse with his master, he laid aside that fond- 
 ling, purring affectation of officiousness and humil- 
 ity, which distinguished his conduct to others ; and 
 if he still bore some resemblance to a cat, it was 
 when the animal is on its guard, watchful, ani- 
 mated, and alert for sudden exertion. The cause of 
 this change was probably Oliver's consciousness, that 
 his master was himself too profound a hypocrite not 
 to see through the hypocrisy of others. 
 
 " The features of this youth, then, if I may pre- 
 sume to speak," said Oliver, " resemble those of him 
 whom your dream exhibited ? " 
 
QUEKTIN DURWARD. 215 
 
 " Closely and intimately," said the King, whose 
 imagination, like that of superstitious people in 
 general, readily imposed upon itself "I have 
 had his horoscope cast, besides, by Galeotti Marti- 
 valle, and I have plainly learned, through his art 
 and mine own observation, that,, in many respects, 
 this unfriended youth has his destiny under the 
 same constellation with mine." 
 
 Whatever Oliver might think of the causes thus 
 boldly assigned for the preference of an inexperi- 
 enced stripling, he dared make no farther objections, 
 well knowing that Louis, who, while residing in 
 exile, had bestowed much of his attention on the 
 supposed science of Judicial astrology, would listen 
 to no raillery of any kind which impeached his skill. 
 He therefore only replied, that he trusted the 
 youth would prove faithful in the discharge of a 
 task so delicate. 
 
 " We will take care he hath no opportunity to 
 be otherwise," said Louis ; " for he shall be privy 
 to nothing, save that he is sent to escort the Ladies 
 of Croye to the residence of the Bishop of Liege. 
 Of the probable interference of William de la Marck, 
 he shall know as little as they themselves. None 
 shall know that secret but the guide ; and Tristan 
 or thou must find one fit for our purpose." 
 
 " But in that case," said Oliver, " judging of him 
 from his country and his appearance, the young 
 man is like to stand to his arms so soon as the Wild 
 Boar comes on them, and may not come off so easily 
 from the tusks as he did this morning." 
 
 " If they rend his heart-strings," said Louis, com- 
 posedly, " Saint Julian, blessed be his name ! can 
 send me another in his stead. It skills as little 
 that the messenger is slain after his duty is exe- 
 
27 6 QTJENTIN DURWAB.D. 
 
 cuted, as that the flask is broken when the wine is 
 drunk out. Meanwhile, we must expedite the 
 ladies' departure, and then persuade the Count de 
 Crevecoeur that it has taken place without our con- 
 nivance ; we having been desirous to restore them 
 to the custody of our fair cousin, which their sudden 
 departure has unhappily prevented." 
 
 " The Count is perhaps too wise, and his master 
 too prejudiced, to believe it." 
 
 "Holy Mother!" said Louis, "what unbelief 
 would that be in Christian men ! But, Oliver, they 
 shall believe us. We will throw into our whole 
 conduct towards our fair cousin, Duke Charles, 
 such thorough and unlimited confidence, that, not 
 to believe we have been sincere with him in every 
 respect, he must be worse than an infidel. I tell 
 thee, so convinced am I that I could make Charles 
 of Burgundy think of me in every respect as I would 
 have him, that, were it necessary for silencing his 
 doubts, I would ride unarmed, and on a palfrey, to 
 visit him in his tent, with no better guard about me 
 than thine own simple person, friend Oliver." 
 
 " And I," said Oliver, " though I pique not my- 
 self upon managing steel in any other shape than 
 that of a razor, would rather charge a Swiss bat- 
 talion of pikes, than I would accompany your High- 
 ness upon such a visit of friendship to Charles of 
 Burgundy, when he hath so many grounds to be 
 well assured that there is enmity in your Majesty's 
 bosom against him." 
 
 "Thou art a fool, Oliver," said the King, "with 
 all thy pretensions to wisdom and art not aware 
 that deep policy must often assume the appearance 
 of the most extreme simplicity, as courage occasion- 
 ally shrouds itself under the show of modest timid- 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 217 
 
 ity. Were it needful, full surely would I do what 
 I have said the Saints always blessing our pur- 
 pose, and the heavenly constellations bringing 
 round, in their course, a proper conjuncture for P 
 such an exploit." 
 
 In these words did King Louis XI. give the first 
 hint of the extraordinary resolution which he after- 
 wards adopted, in order to dupe his great rival, the 
 subsequent execution of which had very nearly 
 proved his own ruin. 
 
 He parted with his counsellor, and presently af- 
 terwards went to the apartment of the Ladies of 
 Croye. Few persuasions beyond his mere license 
 would have been necessary to determine their re- 
 treat from the Court of France, upon the first hint 
 that they might not be eventually protected against 
 the Duke of Burgundy ; but it was not so easy to 
 induce them to choose Liege for the place of their 
 retreat. They entreated and requested to be trans- 
 ferred to Bretagne or Calais, where, under protec- 
 Jtion of the Duke of Bretagne, or King of England, 
 they might remain in a state of safety, until the 
 Sovereign of Burgundy should relent in his rigorous 
 purpose towards them. But neither of these places 
 of safety at all suited the plans of Louis, and he 
 was at last successful in inducing them to adopt 
 that which did coincide with them. 
 
 The power of the Bishop of Liege for their de- 
 fence was not to be questioned, since his ecclesias- 
 tical dignity gave him the means of protecting the * 
 fugitives against all Christian princes; while, on 
 the other hand, his secular forces, if not numerous, 
 seemed at least sufficient to defend his person, and 
 all under his protection, from any sudden violence. 
 The difficulty was to reach the little Court of the 
 
218 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 Bishop in safety; but for this Loui's promised to 
 provide, by spreading a report that the Ladies of 
 Croye had escaped from Tours by night, under fear 
 of being delivered up to the Burgundian Envoy, 
 and had taken their flight towards Bretagne. He 
 also promised them the attendance of a small, but 
 faithful retinue, and letters to the commanders of 
 such towns and fortresses as they might pass, with 
 instructions to use every means for protecting and 
 assisting them in their journey. 
 
 The Ladies of Croye, although internally resent- 
 ing the ungenerous and discourteous manner in 
 which Louis thus deprived them of the promised 
 asylum in his Court, were so far from objecting to 
 the hasty departure which he proposed, that they 
 even anticipated his project, by entreating to be 
 permitted to set forward that same night. The 
 Lady Hameline was already tired of a place where 
 there were neither admiring courtiers, nor festivi- 
 ties to be witnessed*; and the Lady Isabelle thought 
 she had seen enough to conclude, that were the 
 temptation to become a little stronger, Louis XL, 
 not satisfied with expelling them from his Court, 
 would not hesitate to deliver her up to her irritated 
 Suzerain, the Duke of Burgundy. Lastly, Louis 
 himself readily acquiesced in their hasty departure, 
 anxious to preserve peace with Duke Charles, and 
 alarmed lest the beauty of Isabelle should interfere 
 with and impede the favourite plan which he had 
 formed, for bestowing the hand of his daughter 
 Joan upon his cousin of Orleans. 
 
F\ 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE JOURNEY. 
 
 Talk not of Kings I scorn the poor comparison ; 
 I am a sage, and can command the elements 
 At least men think I can ; and on that thought 
 I found unbounded empire. 
 
 Albumazar. 
 
 Occupation and adventure might be said to crowd 
 upon the young Scottishman with the force of a 
 spring-tide ; for he was speedily summoned to the 
 apartment of his Captain, the Lord Crawford, where, 
 to his astonishment, he again beheld the King. After 
 a few words respecting the honour and trust which 
 were about to be reposed in him, which made 
 Quentin internally afraid that they were again about 
 to propose to him such a watch as he had kept upon 
 the Count of Crevecceur, or perhaps some duty still 
 more repugnant to his feelings, he was not relieved 
 merely, but delighted, with hearing that he was 
 selected, with the assistance of four others under 
 his command, one of whom was a guide, to escort 
 the Ladies of Croye to the little Court of their rela- 
 tive, the Bishop of Liege, in the safest and most 
 commodious, and, at the same time, in the most 
 secret manner possible. A scroll was given him, in 
 which were set down directions for his guidance, for 
 the places of halt, (generally chosen in obscure vil- 
 lages, solitary monasteries, and situations remote 
 
220 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 from towns,) and for the general precautions which, 
 he was to attend to, especially on approaching the 
 frontier of Burgundy. He was sufficiently supplied 
 with instructions what he ought to say and do to 
 sustain the personage of the Maitre d'Hotel of two 
 English ladies of rank, who had been on a pilgrim- 
 age to Saint Martin of Tours, and were about to 
 visit the holy city of Cologne, and worship the relics 
 of the sage Eastern Monarchs, who came to adore the 
 nativity of Bethlehem ; for under that character the 
 Ladies of Croye were to journey. 
 
 Without having any defined notions of the cause 
 of his delight, Quentin Durward's heart leapt for 
 joy at the idea of approaching thus nearly to the 
 person of the Beauty of the Turret, and in a situa- 
 tion which entitled him to her confidence, since her 
 protection was in so great a degree intrusted to his 
 conduct and courage. He felt no doubt in his own 
 mind, that he should be her successful guide through 
 the hazards of her pilgrimage. Youth seldom thinks 
 of dangers, and bred up free, and fearless, and self- 
 confiding, Quentin, in particular, only thought of 
 them to defy them. He longed to be exempted 
 from the restraint of the Eoyal presence, that he 
 might indulge the secret glee with which such un- 
 expected tidings filled him, and which prompted 
 him to bursts of delight which would have been 
 totally unfitting for that society. 
 
 But Louis had not yet done with him. That 
 cautious Monarch had to consult a counsellor of a 
 different stamp from Oliver le Diable, and who was 
 supposed to derive his skill from the superior and 
 astral intelligences, as men, judging from their fruits, 
 were apt to think the counsels of Oliver sprung from 
 the Devil himself. 
 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 221 
 
 Louis therefore led the way, followed by the im- 
 patient Quentin, Go a separate tower of the Castle 
 of Plessis, in which was installed, in no small ease 
 and splendour, the celebrated astrologer, poet, and 
 philosopher, Galeotti Marti, or Martius, or Marti- 
 valle, a native of Narni, in Italy, the author of the 
 famous Treatise, Be Vulgo Incognitis} and the 
 subject of his age's admiration, and of the panegy- 
 rics of Paulus Jovius. He had long flourished at 
 the Court of the celebrated Matthias Corvinus, 
 King of Hungary, from whom he was in some 
 measure decoyed by Louis, who grudged- the Hun- 
 garian Monarch the society and the counsels of a 
 sage, accounted so skilful in reading the decrees of 
 Heaven. 
 
 Martivalle was none of those ascetic, withered, 
 pale professors of mystic learning of those days, 
 who bleared their eyes over the midnight furnace, 
 and macerated their bodies by outwatching the 
 polar bear. He indulged. in all courtly pleasures, 
 and, until he grew corpulent, had excelled in all 
 martial sports and gymnastic exercises, as well as 
 in the use of arms ; insomuch, that Janus Panno- 
 nius has left a Latin epigram, upon a wrestling 
 match betwixt Galeotti and a renowned champion 
 of that art, in the presence of the Hungarian King 
 and Court, in which the Astrologer was completely 
 victorious. 
 
 The apartments of this courtly and martial sage 
 were far more splendidly furnished than any which 
 Quentin hsd yet seen in the royal palace ; and the 
 carving and ornamented wood-work of his library, as 
 well as the magnificence displayed in the tapestries, 
 showed the elegant taste of the learned Italian* 
 
 1 Concerning things unknown to the generality of mankind. 
 
222 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 Out of his study one door opened to his sleep- 
 ing-apartment, another led to the turret which 
 served as his observatory. A large oaken table, 
 in the midst of the chamber, was covered with a 
 rich Turkey carpet, the spoils of the tent of a Pacha 
 after the great battle of Jaiza, where the Astrologer 
 had fought abreast with the valiant champion of 
 Christendom, Matthias Corvinus. On the table lay 
 a variety of mathematical and astrological instru- 
 ments, all of the most rich materials and curious 
 workmanship. His astrolabe of silver was the gift 
 of the Emperor of Germany, and his Jacob's staff (p) 
 of ebony, jointed with gold, and curiously inlaid, 
 was a mark of esteem from the reigning Pope. 
 
 There were various other miscellaneous articles 
 disposed on the table, or hanging around the walls ; 
 amongst others, two complete suits of armour, one 
 of mail, the other of plate, both of which from their 
 great size, seemed to call the gigantic Astrologer 
 their owner ; a Spanish, toledo, a Scottish broad- 
 sword, a Turkish scimitar, with bows, quivers, and 
 other warlike weapons ; musical instruments of sev- 
 eral different kinds ; a silver crucifix, a sepulchral 
 antique vase, and several of the little brazen Penates 
 of the ancient heathens, with other curious nonde- 
 script articles, some of which, in the superstitious 
 opinions of that period, seemed to be designed for 
 magical purposes. The library of this singular 
 character was of the same miscellaneous description 
 with his other effects. Curious manuscripts of clas- 
 sical antiquity lay mingled with the voluminous 
 labours of Christian divines, and of those painstak- 
 ing sages who professed the chemical science, and 
 proffered to guide their students into the most secret 
 recesses of nature, by means of the Hermetica] 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 223 
 
 Philosophy. Some were written in the Eastern 
 character, and others concealed their sense or non- 
 sense under the veil of hieroglyphics and cabalistic 
 characters. The whole apartment, and its furniture 
 of every kind, formed a scene very impressive on the 
 fancy, considering the general belief then indispu- 
 tably entertained concerning the truth of the occult 
 sciences ; and that effect was increased by the man- 
 ners and appearance of the individual himself, who, 
 seated in a huge chair, was employed in curiously 
 examining a specimen, just issued from the Frank- 
 fort press, of the newly invented art of printing. 
 
 Galeotti Martivalle was a tall, bulky, yet stately 
 man, considerably past his prime, and whose youth- 
 ful habits of exercise, though still occasionally re- 
 sumed, had not been able to contend with his natural 
 tendency to corpulence, increased by sedentary 
 study, and indulgence in the pleasures of the table. 
 His features, though rather overgrown, were digni- 
 fied and noble, and a Santon might have envied the 
 dark and downward sweep of his long-descending 
 beard. His dress was a chamber-robe of the richest 
 Genoa velvet, with ample sleeves, clasped with frogs 
 of gold, and lined with sables. It was fastened 
 round his middle by a broad belt of virgin parch- 
 ment, round which were represented in crimson 
 characters, the signs of the zodiac. He rose and 
 bowed to the King, yet with the air of one to whom 
 such exalted society was familiar, and who was not 
 at all likely, even in the royal presence, to com- 
 promise the dignity then especially affected by the 
 pursuers of science. 
 
 " You are engaged, father," said the King, " and, 
 as T think, with this new-fashioned art of multiply- 
 ing manuscripts, by the intervention of machinery 
 
224 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 Can things of such mechanical and terrestrial im 
 port interest the thoughts of one, before whom 
 Heaven has unrolled her own celestial volumes ? " 
 
 " My brother," replied Martivalle, " for so the 
 tenant of this cell must term even the King of 
 France, when he deigns to visit him as a disciple, 
 believe me that, in considering the consequences of 
 this invention, I read with as certain augury, as by 
 any combination of the heavenly bodies, the most 
 awful and portentous changes. When I reflect with 
 what slow and limited supplies the stream of science 
 hath hitherto descended to us ; how difficult to be 
 obtained by those most ardent in its search ; how cer- 
 tain to be neglected by all who regard their ease ; 
 how liable to be diverted, or altogether dried up, by 
 the invasions of barbarism ; can I look forward with- 
 out wonder and astonishment, to the lot of a 
 succeeding generation, on Whom knowledge will 
 descend like the first and second rain, uninterrupted, 
 unabated, unbounded ; fertilizing some grounds, and 
 overflowing others ; changing the whole form of 
 social life; establishing and overthrowing religions ; 
 erecting and destroying kingdoms " 
 
 " Hold, Galeotti," said Louis, " shall these 
 3hanges come in our time ? " 
 
 " No, my royal brother," replied Martivalle ; 
 "this invention may be likened to a young tree, 
 which is now newly planted, but shall, in succeed- 
 ing generations, bear fruit as fatal, yet as precious, 
 as that of the Garden of Eden ; the knowledge, 
 namely, of good and evil." 
 
 Louis answered, after a moment's pause, "Let 
 futurity look to what concerns them we are men 
 of this age, and to this age we will confine our care. 
 Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. Tell me, 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 225 
 
 hast thou proceeded farther in the horoscope which 
 I sent to thee, and of which you made me some 
 report ? I have brought the party hither, that you 
 may use palmistry, or chiromancy, if such is your 
 pleasure. The matter is pressing." 
 
 The bulky Sage arose from his seat, and, ap- 
 proaching the young soldier, fixed on him his keen 
 large dark eyes, as if he were in the act of internally 
 spelling and dissecting every lineament and feature. 
 Blushing, and borne down by this close exami- 
 nation on the part of one whose expression was so 
 reverent at once and commanding, Quentin bent his 
 eyes on the ground, and did not again raise them, 
 till in the act of obeying the sonorous command of 
 the Astrologer, "Look up and be not afraid, but 
 hold forth thy hand." 
 
 When Martivalle had inspected his palm, accord- 
 ing to the form of the mystic arts which he practised, 
 he led the King some steps aside. " My royal 
 brother," he said, " the physiognomy of this youth, 
 together with the lines impressed on his hand, con- 
 firm, in a wonderful degree, the report which I 
 founded on his horoscope, as well as that judgment 
 which your own proficiency in our sublime arts 
 induced you at once to form of him. All promises 
 that this youth will be brave and fortunate." 
 
 " And faithful ? " said the King ; " for valour and 
 fortune square not with fidelity." 
 
 " And faithful also," said the Astrologer ; " for 
 there is manly firmness in look and eye, and his 
 linea vitce is deeply marked and clear, which indi- 
 cates a true and upright adherence to those who do 
 benefit or lodge trust in him. But yet " 
 
 "But what?" said the King; "Father Galeotti, 
 wherefore do you now pause ? " 
 
 VOL. I. 15 
 
226 QUENTIN DU it WARD. 
 
 " The ears of Kings," said the Sage, " are like 
 the palates of those dainty patients, which are un- 
 able to endure the bitterness of the drugs necessary 
 for their recovery." 
 
 " My ears and my palate have no such niceness," 
 said Louis ; " let me hear what is useful counsel, 
 and swallow what is wholesome medicine. I quarrel 
 not with the rudeness of the one, or the harsh taste 
 of the other. I have not been cockered in wanton- 
 ness or indulgence ; my youth was one of exile and 
 suffering. My ears are used to harsh counsel, and 
 take no offence at it." 
 
 " Then plainly, Sire," replied Galeotti, " if you 
 have aught in your purposed commission, which 
 which, in short, may startle a scrupulous conscience 
 intrust it not to this youth at least, not till a 
 few years' exercise in your service has made him as 
 jr\ unscrupulous as others." 
 
 " And is this what you hesitated to speak, my 
 good Galeotti ? and didst thou think thy speaking 
 it would offend me ? " said the King. " Alack, I 
 know that thou art well sensible, that the path of 
 royal policy cannot be always squared (as that of 
 private life ought invariably to be) by the abstract 
 maxims of religion and of morality. Wherefore do 
 we, the Princes of the earth, found churches and 
 monasteries, make pilgrimages, undergo penances, 
 and perform devotions, with which others may dis- 
 pense, unless it be because the benefit of the public, 
 and the welfare of our kingdoms, force us upon mea- 
 sures which grieve our consciences as Christians ? 
 But Heaven has mercy the Church, an unbounded 
 stock of merits, and the intercession of Our Lady 
 of Embrun, and the blessed saints, is urgent, ever- 
 lasting, and omnipotent." He laid his hat on the 
 
QUENT1N DTJRWARD. 227 
 
 table, and devoutly kneeling before the images 
 stuck into the hat- band, repeated, in an earnest tone, 
 "Sancte Huberte, Sancte Juliane, Sancte Martine, 
 Sancta Rosalia, Sancti quotquot adestis, orate pro 
 me peccatore ! " He then smote his breast, arose, 
 re-assumed his hat, and continued ; "Be assured, 
 good father, that whatever there may be in our 
 commission, of the nature at which you have hinted, 
 the execution shall not be intrusted to this youth, * 
 nor shall he be privy to such part of our purpose." 
 
 " In this," said the Astrologer, " you, my royal 
 brother, will walk wisely. Something may be ap- 
 prehended likewise from the rashness of this your 
 young commissioner ; a failing inherent in those of 
 sanguine complexion. But T hold that, by the rules 
 of art, this chance is not to be weighed against the 
 other properties discovered from his horoscope and 
 otherwise." 
 
 " Will this next midnight be a propitious hour 
 in which to commence a perilous journey ? " said the 
 King. " See, here is your Ephemerides you see 
 the position of the moon in regard to Saturn, and 
 the ascendence of Jupiter That should argue, me- 
 thinks, in submission to your better art, success to 
 him who sends forth the expedition at such an 
 hour." 
 
 "To him who sends forth the expedition," said 
 the Astrologer, after a pause, " this conjunction 
 doth indeed promise success ; but, methinks, that 
 Saturn being combust, threatens danger and infor- 
 tune to the party sent ; whence I infer that the 
 errand may be perilous, or even fatal, to those who 
 are to journey. Violence and captivity, methinks, 
 are intimated in that adverse conjunction." 
 
 " Violence and captivity to those who are sent," 
 
228 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 answered the King, " but success to the wishes ot 
 the sender Euns it not thus, my learned father ? " 
 
 " Even so," replied the Astrologer. 
 
 The King paused, without giving any further 
 indication how far this presaging speech (probably 
 hazarded by the Astrologer from his conjecture that 
 the commission related to some dangerous purpose) 
 squared with his real object, which, as the reader 
 is aware, was to betray the Countess Isabelle of. 
 Croye into the hands of William de la Marck, a 
 nobleman indeed of high birth, but degraded by his 
 crimes into a leader of banditti, distinguished for his 
 turbulent disposition and ferocious bravery. 
 
 The King then pulled forth a paper from his 
 pocket, and, ere he gave it to Martivalle, said, in a 
 tone which resembled that of an apology "Learned 
 Galeotti, be not surprised, that, possessing in you 
 an oracular treasure, superior to that lodged in the 
 breast of any now alive, not excepting the great 
 Nostradamus himself, I am desirous frequently to 
 avail myself of your skill in those doubts and 
 difficulties which beset every Prince who hath to 
 contend with rebellion within his land, and with 
 external enemies, both powerful and inveterate." 
 
 " When I was honoured with your request, Sire," 
 said the philosopher, " and abandoned the Court of 
 Buda for that of Plessis, it was with the resolution 
 to place at the command of my royal patron what- 
 ever my art had, that might be of service to him." 
 
 " Enough, good Martivalle I pray thee attend 
 to the import of this question." He proceeded to 
 read from the paper in his hand : r " A person 
 having on hand a weighty controversy, which is 
 like to draw to debate either by law or by force of 
 arms, is desirous, for the present, to seek accommoda- 
 
QUENTIN DURWAED. 229 
 
 tiou by a personal interview with his antagonist. 
 He desires to know what day will be propitious for 
 the execution of such a purpose ; also what is likely 
 to be the success of such a negotiation, and whether 
 his adversary will be moved to answer the confi- 
 dence thus reposed in him, with gratitude and 
 kindness, or may rather be likely to abuse the op- 
 portunity and advantage which such meeting may 
 afford him ? " 
 
 "It is an important question," said Martivalle, 
 when the King had done reading, " and requires 
 that I should set a planetary figure, and give it 
 instant and deep consideration." 
 
 "Let it be so, my good father in the sciences, 
 and thou shalt know what it is to oblige a King of 
 France. We are determined, if the constellations 
 forbid not, and our own humble art leads us to 
 think that they approve our purpose, to hazard 
 something, even in our own person, to stop these 
 anti-Christian wars." 
 
 " May the Saints forward your Majesty's pious 
 intent," said the Astrologer, " and guard your sacred 
 person ! " 
 
 " Thanks, learned father. Here is something, 
 the while, to enlarge your curious library." 
 
 He placed under one of the volumes a small purse 
 of gold ; for, economical even in his superstitions, 
 Louis conceived the Astrologer sufficiently bound 
 to his service by the pensions he had assigned him, 
 and thought himself entitled to the use of his skill 
 at a moderate rate, even upon great exigencies. 
 
 Louis, having thus, in legal phrase, added a 
 refreshing fee to his general retainer, turned from 
 him to address Durward. " Follow me," he said, 
 " my bonny Scot, as one chosen by Destiny and a 
 
23o QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 g Monarch to accomplish a bold adventure. All must 
 be got ready, that thou mayst put foot in stirrup the 
 very instant the bell of Saint Martin's tolls twelve. 
 One minute sooner, one minute later, were to for- 
 feit the favourable aspect of the constellations which 
 smile on your adventure." 
 
 Thus saying, the King left the apartment, fol- 
 lowed by his young guardsman : and no sooner were 
 they gone, than the Astrologer gave way to very 
 different feelings from those which seemed to 
 animate him during the royal presence. 
 
 " The niggardly slave ! " he said, weighing the 
 purse in his hand, for, being a man of unbounded 
 expense, he had almost constant occasion for money, 
 " The base sordid scullion ! A coxswain's wife 
 would give more to know that her husband had 
 crossed the narrow seas in safety. He acquire any 
 tincture of humane letters ! yes, when prowling 
 foxes and yelling wolves become musicians. He 
 read the glorious blazoning of the firmament ! ay, 
 when sordid moles shall become lynxes. Post tot 
 promissa after so many promises made, to entice 
 me from the Court of the magnificent Matthias, 
 where Hun and Turk, Christian and Infidel, the 
 Czar of Muscovia and the Cham of Tartary them- 
 selves, contended to load me with gifts, doth he 
 think I am to abide in this old Castle, like a bul- 
 finch in a cage, fain to sing as oft as he chooses to 
 whistle, and all for seed and water ? Not so aut 
 inveniam viam, aut faciam I will discover or con- 
 trive a remedy. The Cardinal Balue is politic and 
 liberal this query shall to him, and it shall be his 
 Eminence's own fault if the stars speak not as he 
 would have them." 
 
 He again took the despised guerdon, and weighed 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 231 
 
 it in his hand. " It may be," he said, " there u 
 some jewel, or pearl of price, concealed in this paltry 
 case I have heard he can be liberal even to 
 lavishness, when it suits his caprice or interest." 
 
 He emptied the purse, which contained neither 
 more nor less than ten gold pieces. The indigna- 
 tion of the Astrologer was extreme. " Thinks he 
 that for such paltry rate of hire I will practise that 
 celestial science which I have studied with the Ar- 
 menian Abbot of Istrahoff, who had not seen the 
 sun for forty years, with the Greek Dubravius, 
 who is said to have raised the dead, and have 
 even visited the Scheik Ebn Hali in his cave in the 
 deserts of Thebais ? No, by Heaven ! he that 
 contemns art shall perish through his own igno- 
 rance. Ten pieces ! a pittance which I am half 
 ashamed to offer to Toinette, to buy her new breast- 
 laces." 
 
 So saying, the indignant Sage nevertheless 
 plunged the contemned pieces of gold into a large 
 pouch which he wore at his girdle, which Toinette, 
 and other abettors of lavish expense, generally con- 
 trived to empty fully faster than the philosopher, 
 with all his art, could find the means of filling. 1 
 
 1 Note II. Galeotti. 
 
CHAPTEK XIV. 
 
 THE JOURNEY. 
 
 I see thee yet, fair France thou favour'd land 
 Of art and nature thou art still before me ; 
 Thy sons, to whom their labour is a sport, 
 So well thy grateful soil returns its tribute ; 
 Thy sun-burnt daughters, with their laughing eyes 
 And glossy raven-locks. But, favour'd France, 
 Thou hast had many a tale of woe to tell, 
 In ancient times as now. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Avoiding all conversation with any one, (for such 
 was his charge,) Quentin Durward proceeded hastily 
 to array himself in a strong but plain cuirass, with 
 thigh and arm-pieces, and placed on his head a 
 good steel cap without any visor. To these was 
 added a handsome cassock of shamois leather, finely 
 dressed, and laced down the seams with some em- 
 broidery, such as might become a superior officer in 
 a noble household. 
 
 These were brought to his apartment by Oliver, 
 who, with his quiet, insinuating smile and manner, 
 acquainted him that his uncle had been summoned 
 to mount guard, purposely that he might make no 
 enquiries concerning these mysterious movements. 
 
 "Your excuse will be made to your kinsman/ 
 said Oliver, smiling again ; " and, my dearest son, 
 when you return safe from the execution of this 
 pleasing trust, I doubt not you will be found worthy 
 
QTJENTIN DURWARD. 233 
 
 of such promotion as will dispense with your ac- 
 counting for your motions to any one, while it will 
 place you at the head of those who must render an 
 account of theirs to you." 
 
 So spoke Oliver le Diable, calculating, probably, 
 in his own mind, the great chance there was that 
 the poor youth whose hand he squeezed affection- 
 ately as he spoke, must necessarily encounter death 
 or captivity in the commission intrusted to his 
 charge. He added to his fair words a small purse 
 of gold, to defray necessary expenses on the road, 
 as a gratuity on the King's part. 
 
 At a few minutes before twelve at midnight, 
 Quentin, according to his directions, proceeded to 
 the second court-yard, and paused under the Dau- 
 phin's Tower, which, as the reader knows, was as- 
 signed for the temporary residence of the Countesses 
 of Croye. He found, at this place of rendezvous, 
 the men and horses appointed to compose the reti- 
 nue, leading two sumpter mules already loaded 
 with baggage, and holding three palfreys for the 
 two Countesses and a faithful waiting-woman, with 
 a stately war-horse for himself, whose steel-plated 
 saddle glanced in the pale moonlight. Not a word 
 of recognition was spoken on either side. The men 
 sat still in their saddles, as if they were motionless ; 
 and by the same imperfect lighjb Quentin saw with 
 pleasure that they were all armed, and held long 
 lances in their hands. They were only three in 
 number ; but one of them whispered to Quentin, 
 in a strong Gascon accent, that their guide was to 
 join them beyond Tours. 
 
 Meantime, lights glanced to and fro at the lattices 
 of the tower, as if there was bustle and preparation 
 among its inhabitants. At length, a small door, 
 
234 QTJENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 which led from the bottom of the tower to the 
 court, was unclosed, and three females came forth, at- 
 tended by a man wrapped in a cloak. They mounted 
 in silence the palfreys which stood prepared for 
 them, while their attendant on foot led the way, and 
 gave the pass-words and signals to the watchful 
 guards, whose posts they passed in succession. 
 Thus they at length reached the exterior of these 
 formidable barriers. Here the man on foot, who 
 had hitherto acted as their guide, paused, and 
 spoke low and earnestly to the two foremost 
 females. 
 
 " May heaven bless you, Sire," said a voice which 
 thrilled upon Quentin Durward's ear, " and forgive 
 you, even if your purposes be more interested than 
 your words express ! To be placed in safety under 
 the protection of the good Bishop of Liege, k the 
 utmost extent of my desire." 
 
 The person whom she thus addressed, muttered 
 an inaudible answer, and retreated back through 
 the barrier-gate, while Quentin thought, that, by 
 the moon-glimpse, he recognised in him the King 
 himself, whose anxiety for the departure of his 
 guests had probably induced him to give his pre- 
 sence, in case scruples should arise on their part, 
 or difficulties on that of the guards of the Castle. 
 
 When the riders were beyond the Castle, it was 
 necessary for some time to ride with great pre- 
 caution, in order to avoid the pitfalls, snares, and 
 similar contrivances, which were placed for the an- 
 noyance of strangers. The Gascon was, however, 
 completely possessed of the clew, to this labyrinth, 
 and in a quarter of an hour's riding, they found 
 themselves beyond the limits of Plessis le Pare, 
 and not far distant from the city of Tours. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 235 
 
 The moon, which had now extricated herself from 
 the clouds through which she was formerly wading, 
 shed a full sea of glorious light upon a landscape 
 equally glorious. They saw the princely Loire roll- 
 ing his majestic tide through the richest plain in 
 France, and sweeping along between banks orna- 
 mented with towers and terraces, and with olives 
 and vineyards. They saw the walls of the city of 
 Tours, the ancient capital of Touraine, raising their 
 portal towers and embattlements white in the 
 moonlight, while, from within their circle, rose 
 the immense Gothic mass which the devotion of 
 the sainted Bishop Perpetuus erected as early as 
 the fifth century, and which the zeal of Charlemagne 
 and his successors had enlarged with such architec- 
 tural splendour, as rendered it the most magnifi- 
 cent church in France. The towers of the church 
 of Saint Gatien were also visible, and the gloomy 
 strength of the Castle, which was said to have been, 
 in ancient times, the residence of the Emperor 
 Valentinian. 
 
 Even the circumstances in which he was placed, 
 though of a nature so engrossing, did not prevent 
 the wonder and delight with which the young 
 Scottishman, accustomed to the waste though im- 
 pressive landscape of his own mountains, and the 
 poverty even of his country's most stately scenery, 
 looked on a scene, which art and nature seemed to 
 have vied in adorning with their richest splendour. 
 But he was recalled to the business of the moment 
 by the voice of the elder lady, (pitched at least an 
 octave higher than those soft tones which bid adieu 
 to King Louis,) demanding to speak with the leader 
 of the band. Spurring his horse forward, Quentin 
 respectfully presented himself to the ladies in that 
 
'236 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 capacity, and thus underwent the interrogatories of 
 the Lady Hameline. 
 
 " What was his name, and what his degree ? " 
 
 He told both. 
 
 " Was he perfectly acquainted with the road ? " 
 
 " He could not," he replied, " pretend to much 
 knowledge of the route, but he was furnished with 
 full instructions, and he was, at their first resting- 
 place, to be provided with a guide, in all respects 
 competent to the task of directing their farther 
 journey : meanwhile, a horseman who had just 
 joined them, and made the number of their guard 
 four, was to be their guide for the first stage." 
 
 " And wherefore were you selected for such a 
 duty, young gentleman ? " said the lady "I am 
 told you are the same youth who was lately upon 
 guard in the gallery in which we met the Princess 
 of France. You seem young and inexperienced 
 for such a charge a stranger, too, in France, and 
 speaking the language as a foreigner." 
 
 " I am bound to obey the commands of the King, 
 madam, but am not qualified to reason on them," 
 answered the young soldier. 
 
 " Are you of noble birth ? " demanded the same 
 querist. 
 
 " I may safely affirm so, madam," replied Quentin. 
 
 "And are you not," said the younger lady, ad- 
 dressing him in her turn, but with a timorous ac- 
 cent, "the same whom I saw when I was called to 
 wait upon the King at yonder inn ? " 
 
 Lowering his voice, perhaps from similar feelings 
 of timidity, Quentin answered in the affirmative. 
 
 " Then, methinks, my cousin," said the Lady 
 Isabelle, addressing the Lady Hameline, " we must 
 be safe under this young gentleman's safeguard ; he 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 237 
 
 looks not, at least, like one to whom the execution 
 of a plan of treacherous cruelty upon two helpless 
 women could be with safety intrusted." 
 
 " On my honour, madam," said Durward, " by 
 the fame of my House, by the bones of my ancestry, 
 I could not, for France and Scotland laid into one, 
 be guilty of treachery or cruelty towards you ! " 
 
 " You speak well, young man," said the Lady 
 Hameline ; " but we are accustomed to hear fair 
 speeches from the King of France and his agents. 
 It was by these that we were induced, when the 
 protection of the Bishop of Liege might have been 
 attained with less risk than now, or when we might 
 have thrown ourselves on that of Winceslaus of 
 Germany, or of Edward of England, to seek refuge 
 in France. And in what did the promises of the 
 King result ? In an obscure and shameful conceal- 
 ing of us, under plebeian names, as a sort of pro- 
 hibited wares, in yonder paltry hostelry, when we, 
 who, as thou knowest, Marthon," (addressing her 
 domestic,) " never put on our head-tire save under 
 a canopy, and upon a dais of three degrees, were 
 compelled to attire ourselves, standing on the simple 
 floor, as if we had been two milkmaids." 
 
 Marthon admitted that her lady spoke a most 
 melancholy truth. 
 
 "I would that had been the sorest evil, dear 
 kinswoman," said the Lady Isabelle ; " I could 
 gladly have dispensed with state." 
 
 "But not with society," said the elder Countess ; 
 ' that, my sweet cousin, was impossible." 
 
 "I would have dispensed with all, my dearest 
 kinswoman," answered Isabelle, in a voice which 
 penetrated to the very heart of her young conductor 
 and guard, "with all, for a safe and honourable 
 
238 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 retirement. I wish not God knows, I never 
 wished to occasion war betwixt France and my 
 native Burgundy, or that lives should be lost foi 
 such as I am. I only implored permission to retire 
 to the Convent of Marmoutier, or to any . other 
 holy sanctuary." 
 
 " You spoke then like a fool, my cousin," answered 
 the elder lady, " and not like a daughter of my 
 noble brother. It is well there is still one alive, who 
 hath some of the spirit of the noble House of Croye. 
 How should a high-born lady be known from a sun- 
 burnt milkmaid, save that spears are broken for the 
 one, and only hazel-poles shattered for the other ? 
 I tell you, maiden, that while I was in the very 
 earliest bloom, scarcely older than yourself, the 
 famous Passage of Arms at Haflinghem was held 
 in my honour; the challengers were four, the as- 
 sailants so many as twelve. It lasted three days ; 
 and cost the lives of two adventurous knights, the 
 fracture of one back-bone, one collar-bone, three 
 legs and two arms, besides flesh-wounds and bruises 
 beyond the heralds' counting ; and thus have the 
 ladies of our House ever been honoured. Ah ! had 
 you but half the heart of your noble ancestry, you 
 would find means at some Court, where ladies' love 
 and fame in arms are still prized, to maintain a 
 tournament, at which your hand should be the prize, 
 as was that of your great-grandmother of blessed 
 memory, at the spear-running of Strasbourg ; and 
 thus should you gain the best lance in Europe, to 
 maintain the rights of the House of Croye, both 
 against the oppression of Burgundy and the policy 
 of France." 
 
 "But, fair kinswoman," answered the younger 
 Countess, " I have been told by my old nurse, that 
 

 QUENT1N DURWARD. . 239 
 
 although the Khinegrave was the best lance at the 
 great tournament at Strasbourg, and so won the 
 hand of my respected ancestor, yet the match was 
 no happy one, as he used often to scold, and some- 
 times even to beat, my great-grandmother of blessed 
 memory." 
 
 " And wherefore not ? " said the elder Countess, 
 in her romantic enthusiasm for the profession of 
 chivalry; "why should those victorious arms, ac- 
 customed to deal blows when abroad, be bound to 
 restrain their energies at home ? A thousand times 
 rather would I be beaten twice a-day, by a husband 
 whose arm was as much feared by others as by me, 
 than be the wife of a coward, who dared neither to 
 lift hand to his wife, nor to any one else ! " 
 
 " I should wish you joy of such an active mate, 
 fair aunt," replied Isabelle, " without envying you ; 
 for if broken bones be lovely in tourneys, there is 
 nothing less amiable in ladies' bower." 
 
 "Nay, but the beating is no necessary conse- 
 quence of wedding with a knight of fame in arms," 
 said the Lady Hameline ; " though it is true that 
 our ancestor of blessed memory, the Ehinegrave 
 Gottfried, was something rough-tempered, and ad- 
 dicted to the use of Rheinwein. The very perfect 
 knight is a lamb among ladies, and a lion among 
 lances. There was Thibault of Montigni God be 
 with him ! he was the kindest soul alive, and not 
 only was he never so discourteous as to lift hand 
 against his lady, but, by our good dame, he who 
 beat all enemies without doors, found a fair foe 
 who could belabour him within. Well, 'twas his 
 own fault he was one of the challengers at the 
 Passage of Haflinghem, and so well bestirred himself, 
 that, if it had pleased Heaven, and your grandfather, 
 
2 4 o . QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 there might have been a lady of Montigni, who had 
 used his gentle nature more gently." 
 
 The Countess Isabelle, who had some reason to 
 dread this Passage of Haflinghem, it being a topic 
 upon which her aunt was at all times very diffuse, 
 suffered the conversation to drop; and Quentin, 
 with the natural politeness of one who had been 
 gently nurtured, dreading lest his presence might 
 be a restraint on their conversation, rode forward to 
 join the guide, as if to ask him some questions 
 concerning their route. 
 
 Meanwhile, the ladies continued their journey in 
 silence, or in such conversation as is not worth nar- 
 rating, until day began to break ; and as they had 
 then been on horseback for several hours, Quentin, 
 anxious lest they should be fatigued, became impa- 
 tient to know their distance from the nearest 
 resting-place. 
 
 "I will show it you," answered the guide, "in 
 half an hour." 
 
 " And then you leave us to other guidance ? " 
 continued Quentin. 
 
 " Even so, Seignior Archer," replied the man ; 
 " my journeys are always short and straight. 
 When you and others, Seignior Archer, go by the 
 bow, I always go by the cord." 
 
 The moon had by this time long been down, and 
 the lights of dawn were beginning to spread bright 
 and strong in the east, and to gleam on the bosom 
 of a small lake, on the verge of which they had 
 been riding for a short space of time. This lake 
 lay in the midst of a wide plain, scattered over with 
 single trees, groves, and thickets ; but which might 
 be yet termed open, so that objects began to be dis- 
 cerned with sufficient accuracy. Quentin cast his 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 241 
 
 eye on the person whom he rode beside, and, under 
 the shadow of a slouched overspreading hat, which 
 resembled the sombrero of a Spanish peasant, he 
 recognised the facetious features of the same Petit- 
 Andre', whose fingers, not long since, had, in concert 
 with those of his lugubrious brother, Trois-Eschelles , 
 been so unpleasantly active about his throat. Im- 
 pelled by aversion, not altogether unmixed with fear, 
 (for in his own country the executioner is regarded 
 with almost superstitious horror,) which his late 
 narrow escape had not diminished, Durward instinc- 
 tively moved his horse's head to the right, and 
 pressing him at the same time with the spur, made 
 a demi-volte, which separated him eight feet from 
 his hateful companion. 
 
 "Ho, ho, ho, ho!" exclaimed Peti t- Andre* ; "by 
 our Lady of the Gre've, our young soldier remembers 4 
 us of old. What ! comrade, you bear no malice, I 
 trust ? every one wins his bread in this country. 
 No man need be ashamed of having come through 
 my hands, for I will do my work with any that ^ 
 ever tied a living weight to a dead tree. And Grod 
 hath given me grace to be such a merry fellow 
 withal Ha ! ha ! ha ! I could tell you such jests 
 I have cracked between the foot of the ladder and 
 the top of the gallows, that, by my halidome, I have 
 been obliged to do my job rather hastily, for fear 
 the fellows should die with laughing, and so shame 
 my mystery !" 
 
 As he thus spoke, he edged his horse sideways, 
 to regain the interval which the Scot had left be- 
 tween them, saying at the same time, " Come, Seig- 
 nior Archer, let there be no unkindness betwixt 
 us ! For my part, I always do my duty without 
 malice, and with a light heart, and I never love a 
 
 VOL.1. 16 
 
242 QUENTIN DUUWARD. 
 
 man better than when I have put my scant- of -wind 
 collar about his neck, to dub him Knight of the 
 Order .of Saint Patibularius, as the Provost's Chap- 
 lain, the worthy Father Vaconeldiablo, is wont to 
 call the Patron Saint of the Provostry." 
 
 "Keep back, thou wretched object!" exclaimed 
 Quentin, as the finisher of the law again sought to 
 approach him closer, " or I shall be tempted to 
 teach you the distance that should be betwixt men 
 of honour and such an outcast." 
 
 " La you there, how hot you are ! " said the -fel- 
 low ; " had you said men of honesty, there had been 
 some savour of truth in it ; but for. men of honour, 
 good lack, I have to deal with them every day, as 
 nearly and closely as I was about to do business with 
 you. But peace be with you, and keep your com- 
 pany to yourself. I would have bestowed a flagon 
 of Auvernat upon you to wash away every unkind- 
 ness but 'tis like you scorn my courtesy. Well. 
 Be as churlish as you list I never quarrel with 
 my customers my jerry -come-tumbles, my merry 
 dancers, my little playfellows, as Jacques Butcher 
 says to his lambs those, in fine, who, like your 
 seigniorship, have H. E. M. P. written on .their fore- 
 heads No, no, let them use me as they list, they 
 shall have my good service at last and yourself 
 shall see, when you next come under Petit-Andrews 
 hands, that he knows how to forgive an injury." 
 
 So saying, and summing up the whole with a 
 provoking wink, and such an interjectional tchicJc 
 as men quicken a dull horse with, Petit- Andre* drew 
 off to the other side of the path, and left the youth 
 to digest the taunts he had treated him with as his 
 proud Scottish stomach best might. A strong desire 
 had Quentin. to have belaboured him while the staff 
 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 243 
 
 of his lance could hold together ; but he put a re- 
 straint on his passion, recollecting that a brawl with 
 such a character could be creditable at no time or 
 place, and that a quarrel of any kind, on the pre- 
 sent occasion, would be a breach of duty, and might 
 involve the most perilous consequences. He there- 
 fore swallowed his wrath at the ill-timed and pro- 
 fessional jokes of Mons. Petit-Andre', and contented 
 himself with devoutly hoping that they had not 
 reached the ears of his fair charge, on which they 
 could not be supposed to make an impression in 
 favour of himself, as one obnoxious to such sarcasms. 
 But he was speedily aroused from such thoughts by 
 the cry of both the ladies at once, " Look back 
 look back ! For the love of Heaven look to your- 
 self and us we are pursued " 
 
 Quentin hastily looked back, and saw that two 
 armed men were in fact following them, and riding 
 at such a pace as must soon bring them up with 
 their party. "It can," he said, "be only some of 
 the Provostry making their rounds in the Forest. 
 Do thou look," he said to Petit- Andrd, " and see 
 what they may be." 
 
 Petit-Andre' obeyed ; and rolling himself jocosely 
 in the saddle after he had made his observations, 
 replied, " These, fair sir, are neither your comrades 
 nor mine neither Archers nor Marshal-men f or I 
 think they wear helmets, with visors lowered, and 
 gorgets of the same. A plague upon these gorgets, 
 of all other pieces of armour ! I have fumbled 
 with them an hour before I could undo the rivets." 
 
 " Do you, gracious ladies," said Durward, with- 
 out attending to Petit-Andre', " ride forward not 
 so fast as to raise an opinion of your being in flight, 
 and yet fast enough to avail yourself of the impedi- 
 
244 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 merit which I shall presently place between you 
 and these men who follow us." 
 
 The Countess Isabelle looked to their guide, and 
 then whispered to her aunt, who spoke to Quentin 
 thus " We have confidence in your care, fair 
 Archer, and will rather abide the risk of whatever 
 may chance in your company, than we will go on- 
 ward with that man, whose mien is, we think, of 
 no good augury." 
 
 " Be it as you will, ladies," said the youth 
 " There are but two who come after us ; and though 
 they be knights, as their arms seem to show, they 
 shall, if they have any evil purpose, learn how a 
 Scottish gentleman can do his devoir in the pre- 
 sence and for the defence of such as you. Which 
 of you there," he continued, addressing the guards 
 whom he commanded, " is willing to be my com- 
 rade, and to break a lance with these gallants ? " 
 
 Two of the men obviously faltered in resolution ; 
 but the third, Bertrand Guyo t. swore, " that cap de 
 diou, were they Knights of King Arthur's Eound 
 Table, he would try their mettle, for the honour of 
 Gascony." 
 
 While he spoke, the two knights for they 
 seemed of no less rank came up with the rear of 
 the party, in which Quentin, with his sturdy ad- 
 herent, had by this time stationed himself. They 
 were fully accoutred in excellent armour of polished 
 steel, without any device by which they could be 
 distinguished. 
 
 One of them, as they approached, called out to 
 Quentin, " Sir Squire, give place we come to re- 
 lieve you of a charge which is above your rank 
 and condition. You will do well to leave these 
 ladies in our care, who are fitter to wait upon them 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 245 
 
 
 
 especially as we know that in yours they are little 
 
 better than captives." 
 
 "In return to your demand, sirs," replied Dur- 
 ward, " know, in the first place, that I am discharg- 
 ing the duty imposed upon me by my present 
 Sovereign ; and next, that however unworthy 
 I may be, the ladies desire to abide under my 
 protection." 
 
 " Out, sirrah ! " exclaimed one of the champions ; 
 "will you, a wandering beggar, put yourself on 
 terms of resistance against belted knights ? " 
 
 " They are indeed terms of resistance," said 
 Quentin, "since they oppose your insolent and 
 unlawful aggression ; and if there be difference of 
 rank between us, which as yet I know not, your 
 discourtesy has done it away. Draw your sword, 
 or, if you will use the lance, take ground for your 
 career." * 
 
 While the knights turned their horses, and rode 
 back to the distance of about a hundred and fifty 
 yards, Quentin, looking to the ladies, bent low on 
 his saddle-bow, as if desiring their favourable re- 
 gard, and as they streamed towards him their ker- 
 chiefs, in token of encouragement, the two assail- 
 ants had gained the distance necessary for their 
 charge. 
 
 Calling to the Gascon to bear himself like a man, 
 Durward put his steed into motion ; and the four 
 horsemen met in full career in the midst of the 
 ground which at first separated them. The shock 
 was fatal to the poof Gascon; for his adversary, 
 aiming at his face, which was undefended by a visor, 
 ran him through the eye into the brain, so that he 
 fell dead from his horse. 
 
 On the other hand, Quentin, though labouring 
 
246 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 i 
 
 under the same disadvantage, swayed himself in 
 the saddle so dexterously, that the hostile lance, 
 slightly scratching his cheek, passed over his right 
 shoulder ; while his own spear, striking his antag- 
 onist fair upon the breast, hurled him to the ground. 
 Quentin jumped off, to unhelm his fallen opponent ; 
 but the other knight, (who had never yet spoken,) 
 seeing the fortune of his companion, dismounted 
 still more speedily than Durward, and bestriding 
 his friend, who lay senseless, exclaimed, " In the 
 name of God and Saint Martin, mount, good fellow, 
 and get thee gone with thy woman's ware ! 
 Ventre Saint Gris, they have caused mischief 
 enough this morning." 
 
 " By your leave, Sir Knight," said Quentin, who 
 could not brook the menacing tone in which this 
 advice was given, " I will first see whom I have 
 had to do with, and learn who is to answer for the 
 death of my comrade." 
 
 " That shalt thou never live to know or to tell," 
 answered the Knight. "Get thee back in peace, 
 good fellow. If we were fools for interrupting 
 your passage, we have had the worst, for thou hast 
 done more evil than the lives of thou and thy whole 
 band could repay. Nay, if thou wilt have it," (for 
 Quentin now drew his sword, and advanced on 
 him,) " take it with a vengeance ! " 
 
 So saying, he dealt the Scot such a blow on the 
 helmet, as, till that moment, (though bred where 
 good blows were plenty,) he had only read of in 
 romance. It descended like a thunderbolt, beating 
 down the guard which the young soldier had raised 
 to protect his head, and, reaching his helmet of 
 proof, cut it through so far as to touch his hair, 
 but without farther injury; while Durward, dizzy, 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 247 
 
 stunned, and beaten down on one knee, was for an 
 instant at the mercy of the knight, had it pleased 
 him to second his blow. But compassion for Quen- 
 tin's youth, or admiration of his courage, or a gene- 
 rous love of fair play, made him withhold from 
 taking such advantage; while Durward, collecting 
 himself, sprung up and attacked his antagonist with 
 the energy of one determined to conquer or die, and 
 at the same time with the presence of mind neces- 
 sary for fighting the quarrel out to the best advan- 
 tage. Eesolved not again to expose himself to such 
 dreadful blows as he had just sustained, he employed 
 the advantage of superior agility, increased by the 
 comparative lightness of his armour, to harass 
 his antagonist, by traversing on all sides, with a 
 suddenness of motion and rapidity of attack, against 
 which the knight, in his heavy panoply, found it 
 difficult to defend himself without much fatigue. 
 
 It was in vain that this generous antagonist 
 called aloud to Quentin, " that there now remained 
 no cause of fight betwixt them, and that he was 
 loath to be constrained to do him injury," Listen- 
 ing only to the suggestions of a passionate wish to 
 redeem the shame of his temporary defeat, Durward 
 continued to assail him with the rapidity of light- 
 ning now menacing him with the edge, now with 
 the point of his sword and ever keeping such 
 an eye on the motions of his opponent, of whose 
 superior strength he had had terrible proof, that he 
 was ready to spring backward, or aside, from under 
 the blows of his tremendous weapon. 
 
 " Now the devil be with thee for an obstinate and 
 presumptuous fool," muttered the knight, " that can- 
 not be quiet till thou art knocked on the head!" 
 So saying, he changed his mode of fighting, col- 
 
248 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 lected himself as if to stand on the defensive, and 
 seemed contented with parrying, instead of return- 
 ing, the blows which Quentin unceasingly aimed at 
 him, with the internal resolution, that the instant 
 when either loss of breath, or any false or careless 
 pass of the young soldier, should give an opening, 
 he would put an end to the fight by a single blow. 
 It is likely he might have succeeded in this artful 
 policy, but Fate had ordered it otherwise. 
 
 The duel was still at the hottest, when a large 
 party of horse rode up, crying, " Hold, in the King's 
 name ! " Both champions stepped back and Quen- 
 tin saw, with surprise, that his Captain, Lord Craw- 
 ford, was at the head of the party who had thus 
 interrupted their combat. There was also Tristan 
 l'Hermite, with two or three of his followers ; mak- 
 ing, in all, perhaps twenty horse. / 
 
4 
 
 CHAPTEK XV. 
 
 THE GUIDE. 
 
 He was a son of Egypt, as he told me, 
 
 And one descended from those dread magicians, 
 
 Who waged rash war, when Israel dwelt in Goshen, 
 
 With Israel and her Prophet matching rod 
 
 With his the sons of Levi's and encountering 
 
 Jehovah's miracles with incantations, 
 
 Till upon Egypt came the avenging Angel, 
 
 And those proud sages wept for their first-horn, 
 
 As wept the unletter'd peasant. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 The arrival of Lord Crawford and his guard put an 
 immediate end to the engagement which we endeav- 
 oured to describe in the last chapter; and the 
 Knight, throwing off his helmet, hastily gave the old 
 lord his sword, saying, " Crawford, I render myself 
 But hither and lend me your ear a word, 
 for God's sake save the Duke of Orleans ! " 
 
 " How ? what ? the Duke of Orleans ! " ex- 
 claimed the Scottish commander, "How came 
 this, in the name of the foul fiend ? It will ruin 
 the callant with the King, for ever and a day. " 
 
 " Ask no questions," said Dunois for it was no 
 other than he "it was all my fault. See, he 
 stirs. I came forth but to have a snatch at yonder 
 damsel, and make myself a landed and a married 
 man and see what is come on't. Keep back your 
 canaille let no man look upon him." So saying, 
 he opined the visor of Orleans, and threw water 
 
zso QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 on his face, which was afforded by the neighbouring 
 lake. 
 
 Quentin Durward, meanwhile, stood like one 
 planet-struck ; so fast did new adventures pour 
 in upon him. He had now, as the pale features 
 of his first antagonist assured him, borne to the 
 earth the first Prince of the blood in France, and 
 had measured swords with her best champion, the 
 celebrated Dunois ; both of them achievements 
 honourable in themselves ; but whether they might 
 be called good service to the King, or so esteemed 
 by him, was a very different question. 
 
 The Duke had now recovered his breath, and 
 was able to sit up and give attention to what 
 passed betwixt Dunois and Crawford, while the 
 former pleaded eagerly, that there was no occasion 
 to mention in the matter the name of the most 
 noble Orleans, while he was ready to take the 
 whole blame on his own shoulders ; and to avouch 
 that the Duke had only come thither in friendship 
 to him. 
 
 Lord Crawford continued listening, with his eyes 
 fixed on the ground, and from time to time he 
 sighed and shook his head. At length he said, 
 looking up, " Thou knowest, Dunois, that for thy 
 father's sake, as well as thine own, I would full fain 
 do thee a service." 
 
 " It is not for myself I demand any thing," an- 
 swered Dunois. " Thou hast my sword, and I am 
 your prisoner what needs more? But it is for 
 this noble Prince, the only hope of France, if God 
 should call the Dauphin. He only came hither to 
 do me a favour in an effort to make my for- 
 tune in a matter which the King had partly 
 encouraged." 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 251 
 
 " Dunois," replied Crawford, " if another had told 
 me thou hadst brought the noble Prince into this 
 jeopardy to serve any purpose of thine own, I had * 
 told him it was false. And now, that thou dost 
 pretend so thyself, I can hardly believe it is for the 
 sake of speaking the truth." 
 
 "Noble Crawford," said Orleans, who had now 
 entirely recovered from his swoon, "you are too 
 like in character to your friend Dunois, not to do 
 him justice. It was indeed I that dragged him * 
 hither, most unwillingly, upon ah enterprise of 
 harebrained passion, suddenly and rashly under- 
 taken. Look on me all who will," he added, rising 
 up and turning to the soldiery "I am Louis of 
 Orleans, willing to pay the penalty of my own folly. 
 I trust the King will limit his displeasure to me, as 
 is but just. Meanwhile, as a child of France must 
 not give up his sword to any one not even to you, 
 brave Crawford fare thee well, good steel." 
 
 So saying, he drew his sword from its scabbard, 
 and flung it into the lake. It went through the air 
 like a stream of lightning, and sunk in the flashing 
 waters, which speedily closed over it. All remained * 
 standing in irresolution and astonishment, so high 
 was the rank, and so much esteemed was the char- 
 acter, of the culprit ; while, at the same time, all 
 were conscious that the consequences of his rash 
 enterprise, considering the views which the King had 
 upon him, were likely to end in his utter ruin. 
 
 Dunois was the first who spoke, and it was in the 
 chiding tone of an offended, and distrusted friend : 
 " So ! your Highness hath judged it fit to cast away 
 your best sword, in the same morning when it was 
 your pleasure to fling away the King's favour, and 
 to slight the friendship of Dunois ? " 
 
252 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 " My dearest kinsman," said the Duke, " when or 
 how was it in my purpose to slight your friendship, 
 by telling the truth, when it was due to your safety 
 and my honour ? " 
 
 " What had you to do with my safety, my most 
 princely cousin, I would pray to know ? " answered 
 Dunois gruffly ; " What, in God's name, was it to 
 you, if I had a mind to be hanged, or strangled, or 
 flung into the Loire, or poniarded, or broke on the 
 wheel, or hung up alive in an iron cage, or buried 
 alive in a castle-fosse, or disposed of in any other 
 way in which it might please King Louis to get rid 
 of his faithful subject ? (you need not wink and 
 frown, and point to Tristan THermite I see the 
 scoundrel as well as you do.) But it would not 
 have stood so hard with me And so much for my 
 safety. And then for your own honour by the 
 blush of Saint Magdalene, I think the honour would 
 have been to have missed this morning's work, or 
 kept it out of sight. Here has your highness got 
 yourself unhorsed by a wild Scottish boy." 
 
 " Tut, tut ! " said Lord Crawford ; " never shame 
 his Highness for that. It is not the first time a 
 Scottish boy hath broke a good lance I am glad 
 the youth hath borne him well." 
 
 " I will say nothing to the contrary," said Dunois ; 
 " yet, had your Lordship come something later than 
 you did, there might have been a vacancy in your 
 band of Archers." 
 
 " Ay, ay," answered Lord Crawford ; " I can read 
 your handwriting in that cleft morion. Some one 
 take it from the lad, and give him a bonnet, which, 
 with its steel lining, will keep his head better than 
 that broken loom. And let me tell your Lordship, 
 that your own armour of proof is not without some 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 253 
 
 marks of good Scottish handwriting. But, Dunois 
 I must now request the Duke of Orleans and you to 
 take horse and accompany me, as I have power and 
 commission to convey you to a place different from 
 that which my good-will might assign you." 
 
 "May I not speak one word, my Lord of 
 Crawford, to yonder fair ladies?" said the Duke 
 of Orleans. 
 
 " Not one syllable," answered Lord Crawford ; " I 
 am too much a friend of your Highness to permit 
 such an act of folly." Then, addressing Quentin, 
 he added, " You, young man, have done your duty. 
 Go on to obey the charge with which you are 
 intrusted." 
 
 " Under favour, my Lord," said Tristan, with his 
 usual brutality of manner, "the youth must find 
 another guide. I cannot do without Petit-Andre*, 
 when there is so like to be business on hand for 
 him." 
 
 " The young man," said Petit- Andre\ now coming 
 forward, "has only to keep the path which lies 
 straight before him, and it will conduct him to a 
 place where he will find the man who is to act as 
 his guide. I would not for a thousand ducats be 
 absent from my Chief this day ! I have hanged 
 knights and squires many a one, and wealthy 
 Echevins, and burgomasters to boot even counts 
 and marquisses have tasted of my handywork 
 
 but, a-humph " He looked at the Duke, as if to 
 
 intimate that he would have filled up the blank, 
 with "a Prince of the blood!" "Ho, ho, ho! 
 Petit- Andre*, thou wilt be read of in Chronicle ! " 
 
 " Do you permit your ruffians to hold such lan- 
 guage in such a presence ? " said Crawford, looking 
 sternly to Tristan. 
 
254 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 " Why do you not correct him yourself, my Lord ? " 
 said Tristan, sullenly. 
 
 "Because thy hand is the only one in this com- 
 pany that can beat him, without being degraded by 
 such an action." 
 
 . " Then rule your own men, my Lord, and I will be 
 answerable for mine," said the Provost-Marshal. 
 
 Lord Crawford seemed about to give a passionate 
 reply ; but, as if he had thought better of it, turned 
 his back short upon Tristan, and requesting the 
 Duke of Orleans and Dunois to ride one on either 
 hand of him, he made a signal of adieu to the ladies, 
 and said to Quentin, "God bless thee, my child; 
 thou hast begun thy service valiantly, though in 
 an unhappy cause." He was about to go off when 
 Quentin could hear Dunois whisper to Crawford, 
 " Do you carry us to Plessis ? " 
 
 "No, my unhappy and rash friend," answered 
 Crawford, with a sigh ; " to Loches." 
 
 "To Loches!" The name of a castle, or rather 
 prison, yet more dreaded than Plessis itself, fell 
 like a death-toll upon the ear of the young Scotch- 
 man. He had heard it described as a place destined 
 to the workings of those secret acts of cruelty with 
 which even Louis shamed to pollute the interior of 
 his own residence. There were in this place of 
 terror dungeons under dungeons, some of them 
 unknown even to the keepers themselves ; living 
 graves, to which men were consigned, with little 
 hope of farther employment during the rest of their 
 life, than to breathe impure air, and feed on bread 
 and water. At this formidable castle were also 
 those dreadful places of confinement called cages, 
 in which the wretched prisoner could neither stand 
 upright, nor stretch himself at length, an invention, 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 255 
 
 it is said, of the Cardinal Balue. 1 (q) It is no wonder 
 that the name of this place of horrors, and the con- 
 sciousness that he had been partly the means of 
 dispatching thither two such illustrious victims, 
 struck so much sadness into the heart of the young 
 Scot, that he rode for some time with his head de- 
 jected, his eyes fixed on the ground, and his heart 
 filled with the most painful reflections. 
 
 As *he was now again at the head of the little 
 troop, and pursuing the road which had been pointed 
 out to him, the Lady Hameline had an opportunity 
 to say to him, 
 
 " Methinks, fair sir, you regret the victory which 
 your gallantry has attained in our behalf ? " 
 
 There was something in the question which 
 sounded like irony, but Quentin had tact enough to 
 answer simply and with sincerity, 
 
 " I can regret nothing that is done in the ser- 
 vice of such ladies as you are ; but, methinks, had 
 it consisted with your safety, I had rather have 
 fallen by the sword of so good a soldier as Dunois, 
 than have been the means of consigning that re- 
 nowned knight and his unhappy chief, the Duke of 
 Orleans, to yonder fearful dungeons." 
 
 " It was, then, the Duke of Orleans," said the 
 nlder lady, turning to her niece. " I thought so, 
 even at the distance from which we beheld the fray. 
 
 You see, kinswoman, what we might have been, 
 had this sly and avaricious monarch permitted us 
 to be seen at his Court. The first Prince of the 
 blood of France, and the valiant Dunois, whose 
 name is known as wide as that of his heroic father 
 
 This young gentleman did his devoir bravely and 
 
 1 Who himself tenanted one of these dens for more than eleven 
 years 
 
2s6 QUENTIN BURWAKD. 
 
 well ; but methinks 'tis pity that he did not suc- 
 cumb with honour, since his ill-advised gallantry- 
 has stood betwixt us and these princely rescuers." 
 
 The Countess Isabelle replied in a firm and al- 
 most a displeased tone ; with an energy, in short, 
 which Quentin had not yet observed her use. 
 
 " Madam," she said, " but that I know you jest, 
 I would say your speech is ungrateful to our, brave 
 defender, to whom we owe more, perhaps, than 
 you are aware of. Had these gentlemen succeeded 
 so far in their rash enterprise as to have defeated 
 our escort, is it not still evident, that, on the arrival 
 of the Koyal Guard, we must have shared their 
 captivity ? For my own part, I give tears, and will 
 soon bestow masses, on the brave man who has 
 fallen, and I trust," (she continued, more timidly,) 
 " that he who lives will accept my grateful thanks." 
 
 As Quentin turned his face towards her, to re- 
 turn the fitting acknowledgments, she saw the blood 
 which streamed J.own on one side of his face, and 
 exclaimed, in a tone of deep feeling, " Holy Virgin, 
 he is wounded ! he bleeds ! Dismount, sir, and let 
 your wound be bound up." 
 
 In spite of all that Durward could say of the 
 slightness of his hurt, he was compelled to dismount, 
 and to seat himself on a bank, and unhelmet him- 
 self, while the ladies of Croye, who, according to 
 a fashion not as yet antiquated, pretended to some 
 knowledge of leech-craft, washed the wound, 
 stanched the blood, and bound it with the kerchief 
 of the younger Countess, in order to exclude the air, 
 for so their practice prescribed. 
 
 In modern times, gallants seldom or never take 
 wounds for ladies' sake, and damsels on their side 
 never meddle with the cure of wounds. Each has 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 257 
 
 a danger the less. That which the men escape 
 will be generally acknowledged ; but the peril of 
 dressing such a slight wound as that of Quentin's, 
 which involved nothing formidable or dangerous, 
 was perhaps as real in its way as the risk of en- 
 countering it. 
 
 We have already said the patient was eminently 
 handsome ; and the removal of his helmet, or, 
 more properly, of his morion, had suffered his fair 
 locks to escape in profusion, around a countenance 
 in which the hilarity of youth was qualified by a 
 blush of modesty at once and pleasure. And then 
 the feelings of the younger Countess, when com- 
 pelled to hold the kerchief to the wound, while her 
 aunt sought in their baggage for some vulnerary 
 remedy, were mingled at once with a sense of 
 delicacy and embarrassment ; a thrill of pity for the 
 patient, and of gratitude for his services, which 
 exaggerated, in her eyes, his good mien and hand- 
 some features. In short, this incident seemed 
 intended by Fate to complete the mysterious com- 
 munication which she had, by many petty and 
 apparently accidental circumstances, established 
 betwixt two persons, who, though far different in 
 rank and fortune, strongly resembled each other in 
 youth, beauty, and the romantic tenderness of an 
 affectionate disposition. It was no wonder, there- 
 fore, that from this moment the thoughts of the 
 Countess Isabelle, already so familiar to his ima- 
 gination, should become paramount in Quentin's 
 bosom, nor that if the maiden's feelings were of a 
 less decided character, at least so far as known to 
 herself, she should think of her young defender, to 
 whom she had just rendered a service so interest- 
 ing, with more emotion than of any of the whole 
 
 L 17 
 
258 QUENTIN DUE.WARD. 
 
 band of high-born nobles who had for two years 
 past besieged her with their adoration. Above all, 
 when the thought of Campo-Basso, the unworthy 
 favourite of Duke CharleSj with his hypocritical 
 mien, his base, treacherous spirit, his wry neck, 
 and his squint, occurred to her, his portrait was 
 more disgustingly hideous than ever, and deeply 
 did she resolve no tyranny should make her enter 
 into so hateful a union. 
 
 In the meantime, whether the good Lady Ha- 
 meline of Croye understood and admired mascu- 
 line beauty as much as when she was fifteen years 
 younger, (for the good Countess was at least thirty- 
 five, if the records of that noble house speak the 
 truth,) or whether she thought she had done their 
 young protector less justice than she ought, in the 
 first view which she had taken of his services, it is 
 certain that he began to find favour in her eyes. 
 
 "My niece," she said, "has bestowed on you a 
 kerchief for the binding of your wound ; I will give 
 you one to grace your gallantry, and to encourage 
 you in your farther progress in chivalry." 
 
 So saying, she gave him a richly embroidered 
 kerchief of blue and silver, and pointing to the 
 housing of her palfrey, and the plumes in her riding- 
 cap, desired him to observe that the colours were 
 the same. 
 
 The fashion of the time prescribed one absolute 
 mode of receiving such a favour, which Quentin 
 followed accordingly, by tying the napkin round 
 his arm ; yet his manner of acknowledgment had 
 more of awkwardness, and less of gallantry in it, 
 than perhaps it might have had at another time, and 
 in another presence ; for though the wearing of a 
 lady's favour, given in such a manner, was merely 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 259 
 
 matter of general compliment, he would much rather 
 have preferred the right of displaying on his arm 
 that which hound the wound inflicted by the sword 
 of Dunois. 
 
 Meantime they continued their pilgrimage, Quen- 
 tin now riding abreast of the ladies, into whose 
 society he seemed to be tacitly adopted. He did 
 not speak much, however, being filled by the silent 
 consciousness of happiness, which is afraid of giving 
 too strong vent to its feelings. The Countess Isa- 
 belle spoke still less, so that the conversation was 
 chiefly carried on by the Lady Hameline, who 
 showed no inclination to let it drop ; for, to initiate 
 the young Archer, as she said, into the principles 
 and practice of chivalry, she detailed to him, at full 
 length, the Passage of Arms at Haflinghem, where 
 she had distributed the prizes among the victors. 
 
 Not much interested, I am sorry to say, in the 
 description of this splendid scene, or in the her- 
 aldic bearings of the different Flemish and German 
 knights, which the lady blazoned with pitiless accu- 
 racy, Quentin began to entertain some alarm lest 
 he should have passed the place where his guide 
 was to join him a most serious disaster, and from 
 which, should it really have taken place, the very 
 worst consequences were to be apprehended. 
 
 While he hesitated whether it would be better 
 to send back one of his followers, to see whether 
 this might not be the case, he heard the blast of a 
 horn, and looking in the direction from which the 
 sound came, beheld a horseman riding very fast 
 towards them. The low size, and wild, snaggy, 
 untrained state of the animal, reminded Quentin of 
 the mountain breed of horses in his own country ; 
 but this was much more finely limbed, and, with the 
 
2(5o QUENTIN DURWABD. 
 
 same appearance of hardiness, was more rapid in its 
 movements. The head particularly, which, in the 
 Scottish pony, is often lumpish and heavy, was 
 small and well placed in the neck of this animal, 
 with thin jaws, full sparkling eyes, and expanded 
 nostrils. 
 
 The rider was even more singular in his appear- 
 ance than the horse which he rode, though that was 
 extremely unlike the horses of France. Although 
 he managed his palfrey with great dexterity, he sat 
 with his feet in broad stirrups, something resem- 
 bling shovels, so short in the leathers, that his knees 
 were wellnigh as high as the pommel of his saddle. 
 His dress was a red turban of small size, in which 
 he wore a sullied plume, secured by a clasp of sil- 
 ver ; his tunic, which was shaped like those of the 
 Estradiots, (a sort of troops whom the Venetians 
 at that time levied in the provinces, on the eastern 
 side of their gulf,) was green in colour, and taw- 
 drily laced with gold ; he wore very wide drawers 
 or trowsers of white, though none of the cleanest, 
 which gathered beneath the knee, and his swarthy 
 legs were quite bare, unless for the complicated 
 laces which bound a pair of sandals on his feet ; he 
 had no spurs, the edge of his large stirrups being so 
 sharp as to serve to goad the horse in a very severe 
 manner. In a crimson sash this singular horseman 
 wore a dagger on the right side, and on the left a 
 short crooked Moorish sword; and by a tarnished 
 baldric over the shoulder hung the horn which 
 announced his approach. He had a swarthy and 
 sunburnt visage, With a thin beard, and piercing 
 dark eyes, a well-formed mouth and nose, and other 
 features which might have been pronounced hand- 
 some, but for the black elf-locks which hung around 
 
QUENTIN DURWAKD. 261 
 
 his face, and the air of wildness and emaciation, 
 which rather seemed to indicate a savage than a 
 civilized man. 
 
 " He also is a Bohemian ! " said the ladies to 
 each other ; " Holy Mary, will the King again 
 place confidence in these outcasts ? " 
 
 " I will question the man, if it be your pleasure," 
 said Quentin, " and assure myself of his fidelity as 
 I best may." 
 
 Durward, as well as the ladies of Croye, had 
 recognised in this man's dress and appearance, the 
 habit and the manners of those vagrants with whom 
 he had nearly been confounded by the hasty pro- 
 ceedings of Trois-Eschelles and Petit-Andrd, and 
 he, too, entertained very natural apprehensions con- 
 cerning the risk of reposing trust in one of that 
 vagrant race. 
 
 " Art thou come hither to seek us ? " was his 
 first question. 
 
 The stranger nodded. 
 
 " And for what purpose ? " 
 
 " To guide you to the palace of him of Liege." 
 
 " Of the Bishop ? " 
 
 The Bohemian again nodded. 
 
 " What token canst thou, give me, that we should 
 yield credence to thee ? " 
 
 "Even the old rhyme, and no other," answered 
 the Bohemian, 
 
 " The page slew the boar, 
 The peer had the gloire." 
 
 " A true token," said Quentin ; " Lead on, good 
 fellow I will speak further with thee presently." 
 Then falling back to the ladies, he said, " I am con- 
 
262 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 vinced this man is the guide we are to expect, for 
 he hath brought me a pass-word, known, I think, 
 but to the King and me. But I will discourse with 
 him further, and endeavour to ascertain how far he 
 is to be trusted." 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE VAGRANT. 
 
 I am as free as Nature first made man, 
 Ere the base laws of servitude began, 
 When wild in woods the noble savage ran. 
 
 The Conquest of Granada. 
 
 While Quentin held the brief communication 
 with the ladies, necessary to assure them that this 
 extraordinary addition to their party was the guide 
 whom they were to expect on the King's part, he 
 noticed, (for he was as alert in observing the mo- 
 tions of the stranger, as the Bohemian could be on 
 his part,) that the man not only turned his head as 
 far back as he could, to peer at them, but that, with 
 a singular sort of agility, more resembling that of 
 a monkey than of a man, he had screwed his whole 
 person around on the saddle, so as to sit almost 
 sidelong upon the horse, for the convenience, as it 
 seemed, of watching them more attentively. 
 
 Not greatly pleased with this manoeuvre, Quen- 
 tin rode up to the Bohemian, and said to him, as 
 he suddenly assumed his proper position on the 
 horse, "Methinks, friend, you will prove but a 
 blind guide, if you look at the tail of your horse 
 rather than his ears." 
 
 "And if I were actually blind," answered the 
 Bohemian, " I could not the less guide you through 
 any country in this realm of France, or in those ad- 
 joining to it." 
 
264 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 "Yet you are no Frenchman born," said the 
 Scot. 
 
 " I am not," answered the guide. 
 
 "What countryman, then, are you?" demanded 
 Quentin. 
 
 " I am of no country," answered the guide. 
 
 " How ! of no country ? " repeated the Scot. 
 
 " No," answered the Bohemian, " of none. I 
 am a Zingaro, a Bohemian, an Egyptian, or what- 
 ever the Europeans, in their different languages, 
 may choose to call our people ; but I have no 
 country." 
 
 " Are you a Christian ? " asked the Scotchman. 
 
 The Bohemian shook his head. 
 9 " Dog ! " said Quentin, (for there was little tole- 
 ration in the spirit of Catholicism in those days,) 
 " dost thou worship Mahoun ? " 
 
 " No," was the indifferent and concise answer of 
 the guide, who neither seemed offended or surprised 
 at the young man's violence of manner. 
 
 " Are you a Pagan then, or what are you ? " 
 
 " I have no religion," 1 answered the Bohemian. 
 
 Durward started back ; for though he had heard 
 of Saracens and Idolaters, it had never entered into 
 his ideas or belief, that any body of men could exist 
 who practised no mode of worship whatever. He 
 recovered from his astonishment, to ask his guide 
 where he usually dwelt. 
 
 " Wherever I chance to be for the time," replied 
 the Bohemian. " I have no home." 
 
 " How do you guard your property ? " 
 
 "Excepting the clothes which I wear, and the 
 horse I ride on, I have no property." 
 
 1 Note III. Religion of the Bohemians. 
 
^UENTIN DURWARD. 265 
 
 " Yet you dress gaily, and ride gallantly," said 
 Durward. " What are your means of subsistence ? " 
 
 " I eat when I am hungry, drink when I am 
 thirsty, and have no other means of subsistence than 
 chance throws in my way," replied the vagabond. 
 
 " Under whose laws do you live ? " 
 
 " I acknowledge obedience to none, but as it suits 
 my pleasure or my necessities," said the Bohemian. 
 
 " Who is your leader, and commands you ? " 
 
 " The Father of our tribe if I choose to obey 
 him," said the guide "otherwise I have no 
 commander." 
 
 " You are then," said the wondering querist, " des- 
 titute of all that other men are combined by you 
 have no law, no leader, no settled means of subsis- 
 tence, no house or home. You have, may Heaven 
 compassionate you, no country and, may Heaven 
 enlighten and forgive you, you have no God ! What 
 is it that remains to you, deprived of government, 
 domestic happiness, and religion ? " 
 
 " I have liberty," said the Bohemian "I crouch 
 to no one obey no one respect no one. I go 
 where I will live as I can and die when my day 
 comes." 
 
 " But you are subject to instant execution, at the 
 pleasure of the Judge ? " 
 
 " Be it so," returned the Bohemian ; " I can but 
 die so much the sooner." 
 
 "And to imprisonment also," said the Scot; 
 " and where then is your boasted freedom ? " 
 
 * In my thoughts," said the Bohemian, " which 
 no chains can bind ; while yours, even when your 
 limbs are free, remain fettered by your laws and 
 your superstitions, your dreams of local attachment, 
 and your fantastic visions of civil policy. Such as 
 
266 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 I are free in spirit when our limbs are chained 
 You are imprisoned in mind, even when your limbs 
 are most at freedom." 
 
 "Yet the freedom of your thoughts," said the 
 Scot, "relieves not the pressure of the gyves on 
 your limbs." 
 
 " For a brief time that may be endured," an- 
 swered the vagrant ; " and if within that period I 
 cannot extricate myself, and fail of relief from my 
 comrades, I can always die, and death is the most 
 perfect freedom of all." 
 
 There was a deep pause of some duration, which 
 Quentin at length broke by resuming his queries. 
 
 "Yours is a wandering race, unknown to the 
 nations of Europe Whence do they derive their 
 origin ? " 
 
 " I may not tell you," answered the Bohemian. 
 
 "When will they relieve this kingdom from their 
 presence, and return to the land from whence they 
 came ? " said the Scot. 
 
 " When the day of their pilgrimage shall be ac- 
 complished," replied his vagrant guide. 
 
 " Are you not sprung from those tribes of Israel, 
 which were carried into captivity beyond the great 
 river Euphrates ? " said Quentin, who had not for- 
 gotten the lore which had been taught him at 
 Aberbrothick. 
 
 " Had we been so," answered the Bohemian, " we 
 had followed their faith, and practised their rites." 
 
 " What is thine own name ? " said Durward. 
 
 " My proper name is only known to my brethren 
 The men beyond our tents call me Hayraddin 
 Maugrabin, that is, Hayraddin the African Moor." 
 
 " Thou speakest too well for one who hath lived 
 always in thy filthy horde," said the Scot. 
 
QTJENTIN DURWARD. 267 
 
 " I have learned some of the knowledge of this 
 land," said Hayraddin. " When I was. a little boy, 
 our tribe was chased by the hunters after human 
 flesh. An arrow went through my mother's head, 
 and she died. I was entangled in the blanket on 
 her shoulders, and was taken by the pursuers. A 
 priest begged me from the Provost's archers, and 
 trained me up in Frankish learning for two or 
 three years." 
 
 " How came you to part with him ? " demanded 
 Durward. 
 
 " I stole money from him even the God which 
 he worshipped," answered Hayraddin, with perfect 
 composure ; " he detected me, and beat me I 
 stabbed him with my knife, fled to the woods, and 
 was again united to my people." 
 
 " Wretch ! " said Durward, " did you murder 
 your benefactor ? " 
 
 " What had he to do to burden me with his bene- 
 fits ? The Zingaro boy was no house-bred cur, 
 to dog the heels of his master, and crouch beneath 
 his blows, for scraps of food He was the impri- 
 soned wolf-whelp, which at the first opportunity 
 broke his chain, rended his master, and returned 
 to his wilderness." 
 
 There was another pause, when the young Scot, 
 with a view of still farther investigating the cha- 
 racter and purpose of this suspicious guide, asked 
 Hayraddin, "Whether it was not true that his 
 people, amid their ignorance, pretended to a know- 
 ledge of futurity, which was not given to the 
 sages, philosophers, and divines, of more polished 
 society ? " 
 
 " We pretend to it," said Hayraddin, " and it is 
 with justice." 
 
268 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 " How can it be, that so high a gift is bestowed 
 on so abject a race ? " said Quentin. 
 
 " Can I tell you ? " answered Hayraddin " Yes, 
 I may indeed ; but it is when you shall explain to 
 me why the dog can trace the footsteps of a man. 
 while man, the nobler animal, hath not power 
 to trace those bf the dog. These powers, which 
 seem to you so wonderful, are instinctive in our 
 race. From the lines on the face and on the hand, 
 we can tell the future fate of those who consult us, 
 even as surely as you know from the blossom of 
 the tree in spring, what fruit it will bear in the 
 harvest." 
 
 " I doubt of your knowledge, and defy you to the 
 proof." 
 
 "Defy me not, Sir Squire," said Hayraddin 
 Maugrabin " I can tell you, that, say what you 
 will of your religion, the Goddess whom you wor- 
 ship rides in this company." 
 
 " Peace ! " said Quentin, in astonishment ; " on 
 thy life, not a word farther, but in answer to what 
 I ask thee. Canst thou be faithful ? " 
 
 " I can all men can," said the Bohemian. 
 
 " But wilt thou be faithful ? " 
 
 " Wouldst thou believe me the more should I 
 swear it ? " answered Maugrabin, with a sneer. 
 
 " Thy life is in my hand," said the young Scot. 
 
 " Strike, and see whether I fear to die," answered 
 the Bohemian. 
 
 " Will money render thee a trusty guide ? " de- 
 manded Durward. 
 
 "If I be not such without it, No," replied the 
 heathen. 
 
 "Then what will bind thee ?" asked the Scot. 
 
 "Kindness," replied the Bohemian. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 269 
 
 " Shall I swear to show thee such, if thou art 
 true guide to us on this pilgrimage ? " 
 
 " No," replied Hayraddin, " it were extravagant 
 waste of a commodity so rare. To thee I am bound 
 already." 
 
 " How ! " exclaimed Durward, more surprised 
 than ever. 
 
 " Kemember the chestnut-trees on the banks of 
 the Cher ! The victim, whose body thou didst cut 
 down, was my brother, Zamet, the Maugrabin." 
 
 " And yet," said Quentin, " I find you in cor- 
 respondence with those very officers by whom your 
 brother was done to death ; for it was one of them 
 who directed me where to meet with you the 
 same, doubtless, who procured yonder ladies your 
 services as a guide." 
 
 " What can we do ? " answered Hayraddin, 
 gloomily " These men deal with us as the sheep- 
 dogs do with the flock ; they protect us for a while, 
 drive us hither and thither at their pleasure, and 
 always end by guiding us to the shambles." 
 
 Quentin had afterwards occasion to learn that the 
 Bohemian spoke truth in this particular, and that 
 the Provost-guard, employed to suppress the vaga- 
 bond bands by which the kingdom was infested, 
 entertained correspondence among them, and for- 
 bore, for a certain time, the exercise of their duty, 
 which always at last ended in conducting their allies 
 to the gallows. This is a sort of political relation 
 between thief and officer, for the profitable exercise 
 of their mutual professions, which has subsisted in 
 all countries, and is by no means unknown to our 
 own. 
 
 Durward, parting from the guide, fell back to 
 the rest of the retinue, very little satisfied with the 
 
270 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 character of Hayraddin, and entertaining little con 
 fidence in the professions of gratitude which he 
 had personally made to him: He proceeded to 
 sound the other two men who had been assigned 
 him for attendants, and he was concerned to find 
 them stupid, and as unfit to assist him with coun- 
 sel, as in the rencounter they had shown themselves 
 reluctant to use their weapons. 
 
 "It is all the better," said Quentin to himself, 
 his spirit rising with the apprehended difficulties 
 of his situation ; " that lovely young lady shall owe 
 all to me. What one hand ay, and one head 
 can do, methinks I can boldly count upon. I 
 have seen my father's house on fire, and he and 
 my brothers lying dead amongst the flames I 
 gave not an inch back, but fought it out to the last. 
 Now I am two years older, and have the best and 
 fairest cause to bear me well, that ever kindled 
 mettle within a brave man's bosom." 
 
 Acting upon this resolution, the attention and 
 activity which Quentin bestowed during the jour- 
 ney, had in it something that gave him the appear- 
 ance of ubiquity. His principal and most favourite 
 post was of course by the side of the ladies ; who, 
 sensible of his extreme attention to their safety, 
 began to converse with him in almost the tone 
 of familiar friendship, and appeared to take great 
 pleasure in the naivety yet shrewdness, of his con- 
 versation. But Quentin did not suffer the fascina- 
 tion of this intercourse to interfere with the vigilant 
 discharge of his duty. 
 
 If he was often by the side of the Countesses, 
 labouring to describe to the natives of a level coun- 
 try the Grampian mountains, and, above all, the 
 beauties of Glen-houlakin, he was as often riding 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 271 
 
 with Hayraddin, in the front of the cavalcade, 
 questioning him about the road, and the resting- 
 places, and recording his answers in his mind, to 
 ascertain whether upon cross-examination he could 
 discover any thing like meditated treachery. As 
 often again he was in the rear, endeavouring to 
 secure the attachment of the two horsemen, by kind 
 words, gifts, and promises of additional recompense, 
 when their task should be accomplished. 
 
 In this way they travelled for more than a week, 
 through by-paths and unfrequented districts, and 
 by circuitous routes, in order to avoid large towns. 
 Nothing remarkable occurred, though they now 
 and then met strolling gangs of Bohemians, who 
 respected them, as under the conduct of one of 
 their tribe, straggling soldiers, or perhaps ban- 
 ditti, who deemed their party too strong to be at- 
 tacked, or parties of the Marechaussde, as they 
 would now be termed, whom Louis, who searched 
 the wounds of the land with steel and cautery, em- 
 ployed to suppress the disorderly bands which in- 
 fested the interior. These last suffered them to 
 pursue their way unmolested, by virtue of a pass- 
 word, with which Quentin had been furnished for 
 that purpose by the King himself. 
 
 Their resting-places were chiefly the monasteries, 
 most of which were obliged by the rules of their 
 foundation to receive pilgrims, under which charac- 
 ter the ladies travelled, with hospitality, and with- 
 out any troublesome enquiries into their rank and 
 character, which most persons of distinction were 
 desirous of concealing while in the discharge of 
 their vows. The pretence of weariness was usually 
 employed by the Countesses of Groye, as an excuse 
 for instantly retiring to rest, and Quentin, as their 
 
272 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 Major Domo, arranged all that was necessary be- 
 twixt them and their entertainers, with a shrewd- 
 ness which saved them all trouble, and an alacrity 
 that failed not to excite a corresponding degree of 
 good-will on the part of those who were thus 
 sedulously attended to. 
 
 One circumstance gave Quentin peculiar trouble, 
 which was the character and nation of his guide ; 
 who, as a heathen, and an infidel vagabond, addicted 
 besides to occult arts, (the badge of all his tribe,) 
 was often looked upon as a very improper guest 
 for the holy resting-places at which the company 
 usually halted, and was not in consequence admitted 
 within even the outer circuit of their walls, save 
 with extreme reluctance. This was very embar- 
 rassing ; for, on the one hand, it was necessary to 
 keep in good humour a man who was possessed of 
 the secret of their expedition; and on the other, 
 Quentin deemed it indispensable to maintain a 
 vigilant though secret watch on Hayraddin's con- 
 duct, in order that, as far as might be, he should 
 hold no communication with any one without being 
 observed. This of course was impossible, if the 
 Bohemian was lodged without the precincts of the 
 converjt at which they stopped, and Durward could 
 not help thinking that Hayraddin was desirous of 
 bringing about this latter arrangement ; for, instead 
 of keeping himself still and quiet in the quarters 
 allotted to him, his conversation, tricks, and songs, 
 were at the same time so entertaining to the novices 
 and younger brethren, and so unedifying in the opi- 
 nion of the seniors of the fraternity, that, in more 
 cases than one, it required all the authority, sup- 
 ported by threats, .which Quentin could exert over 
 him, to restrain his irreverent and untimeous jocu- 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 273 
 
 larity, and all the interest he could make with the 
 Superiors, to prevent the heathen hound from be- 
 ing thrust out of doors. He succeeded, . however, 
 by the adroit manner in which he apologized for 
 the acts of indecorum committed by their attendant, 
 and the skill with which he hinted the hope of his 
 being brought to a better sense of principles and 
 behaviour, by the neighbourhood of holy relics, 
 consecrated buildings, and, above all, of men dedi- 
 cated to religion. 
 
 But upon the tenth or twelfth day of their jour- 
 ney, after they had entered Flanders, and were 
 approaching the town of Namur, all the efforts of 
 Quentin became inadequate to suppress the conse- 
 quences of the scandal given by his heathen guide. 
 The scene was a Franciscan convent, and of a strict 
 and reformed order, and the Prior a man who after- 
 wards died in the odour of sanctity. After rather 
 more than the usual scruples (which were indeed 
 in such a case to be expected) had been surmounted, 
 the obnoxious Bohemian at length obtained quar- 
 ters in an out-house inhabited by a lay-brother, 
 who acted as gardener. The ladies retired to their 
 apartment, as usual, and the Prior, who chanced to 
 have some distant alliances and friends in Scotland, 
 and who was fond of hearing foreigners tell of their 
 native countries, invited Quentin, with whose mien 
 and conduct he seemed much pleased, to a slight 
 monastic refection in his own cell. Finding the 
 Father a man of intelligence, Quentin did not neg- 
 lect the opportunity of making himself acquainted 
 with the state of affairs in the country of Liege, of 
 which, during the last two days of their journey, 
 he had heard such reports, as made him very ap- 
 prehensive for the security of his charge during the 
 
 VOL. I. 18 
 
274 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 remainder of their route, nay, even of the Bishop s 
 power to protect them, when they should be safely 
 conducted to his residence. The replies of the 
 Prior were not very consolatory. 
 
 He said, that " the people of Liege were wealthy 
 burghers, who, like Jeshurun of old, had waxed 
 fat and kicked that they were uplifted in heart 
 because of their wealth and their privileges that 
 they had divers disputes with the Duke of Bur- 
 gundy, their liege lord, upon the subject of imposts 
 and immunities and that they had repeatedly 
 broken out into open mutiny, whereat the Duke was 
 so much incensed, as being a man of a hot and fiery 
 nature, that he had sworn, by Saint George, on the 
 next provocation, he would make the city of Liege 
 like to the desolation of Babylon, and the downfall 
 of Tyre, a hissing and a reproach to the whole 
 territory of Flanders." 
 
 " And he is a prince, by all report, likely to keep 
 such a vow," said Quentin ; " so the men of Liege 
 will probably beware how they give him occasion." 
 
 " It were to be so hoped," said the Prior ; " and such 
 are the prayers of the godly in the land, who would 
 not that the blood of the citizens were poured 
 forth like water, and that they should perish, even 
 as utter castaways, ere they make their peace with 
 Heaven. Also the good Bishop labours night and 
 day to preserve peace, as well becometh a servant 
 of the altar; for it is written in holy scripture, 
 
 Beati pacifici. But " here the good Prior 
 
 stopped, with a deep sigh. 
 
 Quentin modestly urged the great importance of 
 which it was to the ladies whom he attended, to 
 have some assured information respecting the inter- 
 nal state of the country, and , what an act of Chris- 
 
QUENTIN DURWAKD. 275 
 
 tian charity it would be, if the worthy and reverend 
 Father would enlighten them upon that subject. 
 
 "It is one," said the Prior, "on which no man 
 speaks with willingness ; for those who speak evil 
 of the powerful, etiam in cubiculo, may find that a 
 winged thing shall carry the matter to his ears. 
 Nevertheless, to render you, who seem an ingenu- 
 ous youth, and your ladies, who are devout vota- 
 resses accomplishing a holy pilgrimage, the little 
 service that is in my power, I will be plain with 
 you." 
 
 He then looked cautiously round, and lowered 
 his voice, as if afraid of being overheard. 
 
 " The people of Liege," he said, " are privily in- 
 stigated to their frequent mutinies by men of Belial, 
 who pretend, but, as I hope, falsely, to have com- 
 mission to that effect from our most Christian King; 
 whom, however, I hold to deserve that term better 
 than were consistent with his thus disturbing the 
 peace of a neighbouring state. Yet so it is, that his 
 name is freely used by those who uphold and in- 
 flame the discontents at Liege. There is, moreover, 
 in the land, a nobleman of good descent, and fame in 
 warlike affairs ; but otherwise, so to speak, Lapis 
 offensionis et petra scandali, a stumbling-block of 
 offence to the countries of Burgundy and Flanders. 
 His name is Willia m deja Marck." 
 
 "Called William with the Beard," said the young 
 Scot, "or the Wild Boar. of Ardennes ?" 
 
 "And rightly so called, my son," said the Prior; 
 " because he is as the wild boar of the forest, which 
 treadeth down with his hoofs, and rendeth with his 
 tusks. And he hath formed to himself a band of 
 more than a thousand men, all, like himself, con- 
 temners of civil and ecclesiastical authority, and 
 
276 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 holds himself independent of the Duke of Bur- 
 gundy, and maintains himself and his followers by 
 rapine and wrong, wrought without distinction, upon 
 churchmen and laymen. Imposuit manus in Christos 
 Domini, he hath stretched forth his hand upon the 
 anointed of the Lord, regardless of what is written, 
 ' Touch not mine anointed, and do my prophets 
 no wrong.' Even to our poor house did he send 
 for sums of gold and sums of silver, as a ransom for 
 our lives, and those of our brethren ; to which we 
 returned a Latin supplication, stating our inability to 
 answer his demand, and exhorting him in the words 
 of the preacher, Ne moliaris amico tuo malum, cum 
 habet in tefiduciam. Nevertheless, this Gulielmus 
 Barbatus, this William de la Marck, as completely 
 ignorant of humane letters as of humanity itself, 
 replied, in his ridiculous jargon, 'Si non payatis, 
 brulabo monasterium vestrum.' " 1 
 
 " Of which rude Latin, however, you, my good 
 father," said the youth, " were at no loss to conceive 
 the meaning ? " 
 
 " Alas, my son," said the Prior, " Fear and Neces- 
 sity are shrewd interpreters ; and we were obliged 
 to melt down the silver vessels of our altar to sat- 
 isfy the rapacity of this cruel chief May Heaven 
 requite it to him seven-fold ! Pereat improbus 
 Amen, amen, anathema esto ! " 
 
 " I marvel," said Quentin, " that the Duke of 
 Burgundy, who is so strong and powerful, doth not 
 bait this boar to purpose, of whose ravages I have 
 already heard so much." 
 
 " Alas ! my son," said the Prior, " the Duke Charles 
 
 1 A similar story is told of the Duke of Vendome, who answered 
 in this sort of macaronic Latin the classical expostulations of a 
 German convent agaiust the imposition of a contribution. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 277 
 
 is now at Peronne, assembling his captains of hun- 
 dreds and his captains of thousands, to make war 
 against France; and thus, while Heaven hath set 
 discord between the hearts of those great princes, 
 the country is misused by such subordinate op- 
 pressors. But it is in evil time that the Duke 
 neglects the cure of these internal gangrenes; for 
 this William de la Marck hath of late entertained 
 open communication with Kouslaer and Pavilion, 
 the chiefs of the discontented at Liege, and it is 
 to be feared he will soon stir them up to some 
 desperate enterprise." 
 
 "But the Bishop of Liege," said Quentin, "he hath 
 ' still power enough to subdue this disquieted and tur- 
 bulent spirit hath he not, good father ? Your 
 answer to this question concerns me much." 
 
 " The Bishop, my child," replied the Prior, " hath 
 the sword of Saint Peter, as well as the keys. He 
 hath power as a secular prince, and he hath the 
 protection of the mighty House of Burgundy; he 
 hath also spiritual authority as a prelate, and he 
 supports both with a reasonable force of good soldiers 
 and men-at-arms. This William de la Marck was 
 bred in his household, and bound to him by many 
 benefits. But he gave vent, even in the court of the 
 Bishop, to his fierce and bloodthirsty temper, and 
 was expelled thence for a homicide, committed on 
 one of the Bishop's chief domestics. From thence- 
 forward, being banished from the good Prelate's 
 presence, he hath been his constant and unrelent- 
 ing foe ; and now, I grieve to say, he hath girded 
 his loins, and strengthened his horn against him." 
 
 " You consider, then, the situation of the worthy 
 Prelate as being dangerous?" said Quentin, very 
 anxiously. 
 
278 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 " Alas ! my son," said the good Franciscan, " what 
 or who is there in this weary wilderness, whom we 
 may not hold as in danger ? But Heaven forefend, 
 I should speak of the reverend Prelate as one whose 
 peril is imminent. He has much treasure, true coun- 
 sellors, and brave soldiers ; and, moreover, a messen- 
 ger who passed hither to the eastward yesterday, 
 saith that the Duke of Burgundy hath dispatched, 
 upon the Bishop's request, an hundred men-at-arms 
 to his assistance. This reinforcement, with the reti- 
 nue belonging to each lance, are enough to deal 
 with William de la Marck, on whose name be 
 sorrow ! Amen." 
 
 At this crisis their conversation was interrupted 
 by the Sacristan, who, in a voice almost inarticu- 
 late with anger, accused the Bohemian of having 
 practised the most abominable arts of delusion 
 among the younger brethren. He had added to 
 their nightly meal cups of a heady and intoxicating 
 cordial, of ten times the strength of the most power- 
 ful wine, under which several of the fraternity had 
 succumbed, and indeed, although the Sacristan 
 had been strong to resist its influence, they might 
 yet see, from his inflamed countenance and thick 
 speech, that even he, the accuser himself, was in 
 some degree affected by this unhallowed potation. 
 Moreover, the Bohemian had sung songs of worldly 
 vanity and impure pleasures; he had derided the 
 cord of Saint Francis, made jest of his miracles, and 
 termed his votaries fools and lazy knaves. Lastly, 
 he had practised palmistry, and foretold to the 
 young Father Cherubin, that he was beloved by a 
 beautiful lady, who should make him father to a 
 thriving boy. 
 
 The Father Prior listened to these complaints for 
 
QUENTIN DURWAKD. 279 
 
 some time in silence, as struck with mute horror 
 by their enormous atrocity. When the Sacristan 
 had concluded, he rose up, descended to the court of 
 the convent, and ordered the lay brethren, on pain 
 of the worst consequences of spiritual disobedience, 
 to beat Hayraddin out of the sacred precincts, with 
 their broom-staves and cart-whips. 
 
 This sentence was executed accordingly, in the 
 presence of Quentin Durward, who, however vexed 
 at the occurrence, easily saw that his interference 
 would be of no avail. 
 
 The discipline inflicted upon the delinquent, not- 
 withstanding the exhortations of the Superior, was 
 more ludicrous than formidable. The Bohemian 
 ran hither and thither through the court, amongst 
 the clamour of voices, and noise of blows, some of 
 which reached him not, because purposely mis- 
 aimed ; others, sincerely designed for his person, 
 were eluded by his activity ; and the few that fell 
 upon his back and shoulders, he took without either 
 complaint or reply. The noise and riot was the 
 greater, that the inexperienced cudgel-players, 
 among whom Hayraddin ran the gauntlet, hit each 
 other more frequently than they did him ; till at 
 length, desirous of ending a scene which was more 
 scandalous than edifying, the Prior commanded the 
 wicket to be flung open, and the Bohemian) darting 
 through it with the speed of lightning, fled forth 
 into the moonlight. 
 
 During this scene, a suspicion which Durward 
 had formerly entertained, recurred with additional 
 strength. Hayraddin had, that very morning, pro- 
 mised to him more modest and discreet behaviour 
 than he was wont to exhibit, when they rested in 
 a convent on their journey ; yet he had broken his 
 
280 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 engagement, and had been even more offensively 
 obstreperous than usual. Something probably lurked 
 under this ; for whatever were the Bohemian's 
 deficiencies, he lacked neither sense, nor, when he 
 pleased, self-command; and might it not be pro- 
 bable that he wished to hold some communication, 
 either with his own horde or some one else, from 
 which he was debarred in the course of the day, 
 by the vigilance with which he was watched by 
 Quentin, and had recourse to this stratagem in order 
 to get himself turned out of the convent ? 
 
 No sooner did this suspicion dart once more 
 through Durward's mind, than, alert as he always 
 was in his motions, he resolved to follow his cud- 
 gelled guide, and observe (secretly if possible) how 
 he disposed of himself. Accordingly, when the 
 Bohemian fled, as already mentioned, out at the 
 gate of the convent, Quentin, hastily explaining to 
 the Prior the necessity of keeping sight of his guide, 
 followed in pursuit of him. 
 
CHAPTER XVIL 
 
 THE ESPIED SPY. 
 
 What, the rude ranger ? and spied spy I hands off 
 You are for no such rustics. 
 
 Ben Jonson's Tale of Robin Hood. 
 
 When Quentin sallied from the convent, he could 
 mark the precipitate retreat of the Bohemian, whose 
 dark figure was seen in the far moonlight, flying 
 with the speed of a flogged hound quite through 
 the street of the little village, and across the level . 
 meadow that lay beyond. 
 
 "My friend runs fast," said Quentin to himself; 
 ff but he must run faster yet, to escape the fleetest # 
 foot that ever pressed the heather of Glen-houlakin." 
 
 Being fortunately without his cloak and armour, 
 the Scottish mountaineer was at liberty to put forth 
 a speed which was unrivalled in his own glens, and 
 which, notwithstanding the rate at which the 
 Bohemian ran, was likely soon to bring his pursuer 
 up with him. This was not, however, Quentin's 
 object ; for he considered it more essential to watch 
 Hayraddin's motions, than to interrupt them. He 
 was the rather led to this, by the steadiness with 
 which the Bohemian directed his course ; and which 
 continuing, even after the impulse of the violent 
 expulsion had subsided, seemed to indicate that his 
 career had some more certain goal for its object 
 
282 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 than could have suggested itself to a person unex- 
 pectedly turned out of good quarters when mid- 
 night was approaching, to seek a new place of 
 repose. He never even looked behind him; and 
 consequently Durward was enabled to follow him 
 unobserved. At length the Bohemian having tra- 
 versed the meadow, and attained the side of a little 
 stream, the banks of which were clothed with alders 
 and willows, Quentin observed that he stood still, 
 and blew a low note on his horn, which was 
 answered by a whistle at some little distance. 
 
 " This is a rendezvous," thought Quentin ; " but 
 how shall I come near enough to overhear the im- 
 port of what passes ? the sound of my steps, and 
 the rustling of the boughs through which I must 
 force my passage, will betray me, unless I am cau- 
 tious I will stalk them, by Saint Andrew, as if 
 they were Glen-isla deer they shall learn that I 
 have not conned woodcraft for nought. Yonder 
 they meet, the two shadows and two of them there 
 are odds against me if I am discovered, and if 
 their purpose be unfriendly, as is much to be 
 doubted. And then the Countess Isabelle loses 
 her poor friend ! Well and he were not worthy 
 to be called such, if he were not ready to meet a 
 dozen in her behalf. Have I not crossed swords 
 with Dunois, the best knight in France, and shall I 
 fear a tribe of yonder vagabonds ? Pshaw God 
 and Saint Andrew to friend, they will find me both 
 stout and wary." 
 
 Thus resolving, and with a degree of caution 
 taught him by his silvan habits, our friend de- 
 scended into the channel of the little stream, which 
 varied in depth, sometimes scarce covering his shoes, 
 sometimes coming up to his knees, and so crept 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 283 
 
 along, his form concealed by the boughs overhang- 
 ing the bank, and his steps unheard amid the ripple 
 of the water. (We have ourselves, in the days of 
 yore, thus approached the nest of the wakeful raven.) 
 In this manner, the Scot drew near unperceived, 
 until he distinctly heard the voices of those who 
 were the subject of his observation, though he could 
 not distinguish the words. Being at this time under 
 the drooping branches of a magnificent weeping 
 willow, which almost swept the surface of the 
 water, he caught hold of one of its boughs, by the. 
 assistance of which, exerting at once much agility, 
 dexterity, and strength, he raised himself up into 
 the body of the tree, and sat, secure from discov- 
 ery, among the central branches. 
 
 From this situation he could discover that the 
 person with whom Hayraddin was now conversing 
 was one of his own tribe, and, at the same time, 
 he perceived, to his great disappointment, that no 
 approximation could enable him to comprehend 
 their language, which was totally unknown to him. 
 They laughed much ; and as Hayraddin made a 
 sign of skipping about, and ended by rubbing his 
 shoulder with his hand, Durward had no doubt 
 that he was relating the story of the bastinading 
 which he had sustained previous to his escape from 
 the convent. 
 
 On a sudden, a whistle was again heard in the 
 distance, which was once more answered by a low 
 tone or two of Hayraddin's horn. Presently after- 
 wards, a tall, stout, soldierly-looking man, a strong 
 contrast in point of thews and sinews to the small 
 and slender-limbed Bohemians, made his appear- 
 ance. He had a broad baldric over his shoulder, 
 which sustained a sword that hung almost across 
 
284 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 his person ; his hose were much slashed, through 
 which slashes was drawn silk or tiffany, of various 
 colours ; they were tied by at least five hundred 
 points or strings, made of ribbon, to the tight buff- 
 jacket which he wore, and the right sleeve of which 
 displayed a silver boar's head, the crest of his Cap-' 
 tain. A very small hat sat jauntily on one * side of 
 his head, from which descended a quantity of curled 
 hair, which fell on each side of a broad face, and 
 mingled with as broad a beard, about four inches 
 long. He held a long lance in his hand ; and his 
 whole equipment was that of one of the German 
 adventurers, who were known by the name of 
 lanzknechts, in English, spearmen, who constituted 
 a formidable part of the infantry of the period. 
 These mercenaries were, of course, a fierce and 
 rapacious soldiery, and having an idle tale current 
 among themselves, that a lanzknecht was refused 
 admittance into heaven on account of his vices, and 
 into hell on the score of his tumultuous, mutinous, 
 and insubordinate disposition, they manfully acted 
 as if they neither sought the one, nor eschewed the 
 other. 
 
 " Donner and blitz ! " was his first salutation, in 
 a sort of German-French, which we can only im- 
 perfectly imitate, " Why have you kept me dancing 
 in attendance dis dree nights ? " 
 
 " I could not see you sooner, v Meinherr," said 
 Hayraddin, very submissively; "there is a young 
 Scot, with as quick an eye as the wild-cat, who 
 watches my least motions. He suspects me already, 
 and, should he find his suspicion confirmed, I were 
 a dead man on the spot, and he would carry back 
 the women into France again." 
 
 " Was henker ! " said the lanzknecht ; " we are 
 
QUENTIN DURWAKD. 285 
 
 three we will attack them to-morrow, and carry 
 the women off without sroing farther. You said 
 the two valets were cowards you and your com- 
 rade may manage them, and the Teufel sail hold 
 me, but I match your Scots wild-cat." 
 
 " You will find that foolhardy," said Hayraddin ; 
 " for, besides that we ourselves count not much in 
 fighting, this spark hath matched himself with the 
 best knight in France, and come off with honour 
 I have seen those who saw him press Dunois hard 
 enough." 
 
 " Hagel and sturm wetter ! It is but your cow- 
 ardice that speaks," said the German soldier. 
 
 " I am no more a coward than yourself," said 
 Hayraddin ; " but my trade is not fighting. If you 
 keep the appointment where it was laid, it is well 
 if not, I guide them safely to the Bishop's Palace, 
 and William de la Marck may easily possess him- 
 self of them there, provided he is half as strong as 
 he pretended a week since." 
 
 " Poz tausend ! " said the soldier, " we are as 
 strong and stronger ; but we hear of a hundreds of 
 the lances of Burgund, das ist, see you, five 
 men to a lance do make five hundreds, and then 
 hold me the devil, they will be fainer to seek for 
 us, than we to seek for them ; for der Bischoff hath 
 a goot force on footing ay, indeed ! " 
 
 "You must then hold to the ambuscade at the 
 Cross of the Three Kings, or give up the adventure," 
 said the Bohemian. 
 
 " Geb up geb up the adventure of the rich bride 
 for our noble hauptman Teufel ! I will charge 
 through hell first. Mein soul, we will be all princes 
 and hertzogs, whom they call dukes, and we will 
 hab a snab at the wein-kellar, and at the mouldy 
 
286 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 French crowns, and it may be at the pretty garces 
 too, when He with de beard is weary on them." 
 
 " The ambuscade at the Cross of the Three 
 Kings then still holds ? " said the Bohemian. 
 
 " Mein Got, ay, you will swear to bring them 
 there ; and when they are on their knees before the 
 cross, and down from off their horses, which all men 
 do, except such black heathens as thou, we will 
 make in on them, and they are ours." 
 
 "Ay; but I promised this piece of necessary 
 villainy only on one condition," said Hayraddin. 
 " I will not have a hair of the young man's head 
 touched. If you swear this to me, by your Three 
 dead Men of Cologne, I will swear to you, by the 
 Seven Night Walkers, that I will serve you truly 
 as to the rest. And if you break your oath, the 
 Night Walkers shall wake you seven nights from 
 your sleep, between night and morning, and, on 
 the eighth, they shall strangle and devour you." 
 
 " But, donner and hagel, what need you be so 
 curious about the life of this boy, who is neither 
 your bloot nor kin ? " said the German. 
 
 " No matter for that, honest Heinrick; some men 
 have pleasure m cutting throats, some in keeping 
 them whole So swear to me, that you will spare 
 him life and limb, or, by the bright star Aldeboran, 
 this matter shall go no further Swear, and by the 
 Three Kings, as you call them, of Cologne I know 
 you care for no other oath." 
 
 " Du bist ein comische man," said the lanzknecht, 
 " I swear " 
 
 " Not yet," said the Bohemian " Faces about, 
 brave lanzknecht, and look to the east, else the 
 Kings may not hear you." 
 
 The soldier took the oath in the manner pre- 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 28? 
 
 scribed, and then declared that he would be in 
 readiness, observing the place was quite convenient, 
 being scarce five miles from their present leaguer. 
 
 " But, were it not making sure work to have a 
 fahnlein of riders on the other road, by the left 
 side of the inn, which might trap them if they go 
 that way ? " 
 
 The Bohemian considered a moment, and then 
 answered, " No the appearance of their troops in 
 that direction might alarm the garrison of Namur, 
 and then they would have a doubtful fight, instead 
 of assured success. Besides, they shall travel on 
 the right bank of the Maes, for I can guide them 
 which way I will ; for, sharp as this same Scottish 
 mountaineer is, he hath never asked any one's 
 advice, save mine, upon the direction of their route. 
 Undoubtedly, I was assigned to him by an as- 
 sured friend, whose word no man mistrusts till they 
 come to know him a little." 
 
 " Hark ye, friend Hayraddin," said the soldier, 
 " I would ask you somewhat. You and your 
 bruder were, as you say yourself, gross sternen- 
 deuter, that is, star-lookers and geister-seers Now, 
 what henker was it made you not foresee him, your 
 bruder Zamet, to be hanged ? " 
 
 "I will tell you, Heinrick," said Hayraddin; 
 "if I could have known my brother was such a 
 fool as to tell the counsel of King Louis to Duke 
 Charles of Burgundy, I could have foretold his 
 death as sure as I can foretell fair weather in July, 
 Louis hath both ears and hands at the Court of 
 Burgundy, and Charles's counsellors love the chink 
 of French gold as well as thou dost the clatter of 
 a wine-pot. But fare thee well, and keep appoint- 
 ment I must await my early Scot a bow-shot 
 
288 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 without the gate of the den of the lazy swine 
 yonder, else will he think me about some ex- 
 cursion which bodes no good to the success of his 
 journey." 
 
 " Take a draught of comfort first," said the lanz- 
 knecht, tendering him a flask, " but I forget ; 
 thou art beast enough to drink nothing but water, 
 like a vile vassal of Mahound and Termagund." 
 
 "Thou art thyself a vassal of the wine-measure 
 and the flagon," said the Bohemian, "I marvel not 
 that thou art only trusted with the bloodthirsty 
 and violent part of executing what better heads 
 have devised. He must drink no wine, who would 
 know the thoughts of others, or hide his own. But 
 why preach to thee, who hast a thirst as eternal as 
 a sand-bank in Arabia ? Fare thee well. Take 
 my comrade Tuisco with thee his appearance 
 about the monastery may breed suspicion." 
 
 The two worthies parted, after each had again 
 pledged himself to keep the rendezvous at the Cross 
 of the Three Kings. 
 
 Quentin Durward watched until they were out 
 of sight, and then descended from his place of con- 
 cealment, his heart throbbing at the narrow escape 
 which he and his fair charge had made if, indeed, 
 it could yet be achieved from a deep-laid plan of 
 villainy. Afraid, on his return to the monastery, 
 of stumbling upon Hayraddin, he made a long de- 
 tour, at the expense of traversing some very rough 
 ground, and was thus enabled to return to his 
 asylum on a different point from that by which he 
 left it. 
 
 On the route, he communed earnestly with him- 
 self concerning the safest plan to be pursued. He 
 had formed the resolution, wken he first heard 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 289 
 
 Hayraddin avow his treachery, to put him to death 
 so soon as the conference broke up, and his compan- 
 ions were at a sufficient distance ; but when he 
 heard the Bohemian express so much interest in 
 saving his own life, he felt it would be ungrateful 
 to execute upon him, in its rigour, the punishment 
 his treachery had deserved. He therefore resolved 
 to spare his life, and even, if possible, still to use 
 his services as a guide, under such precautions as 
 should ensure the security of the precious charge, to 
 the preservation of which his own life was internally 
 devoted. 
 
 But whither were they to turn the Countesses 
 of Croye could neither obtain shelter in Burgundy, 
 from which they had fled, nor in France, from which 
 they had been in a manner expelled. The violence 
 of Duke Charles in the one country, was scarcely 
 more to be feared than the cold and tyrannical, 
 policy of King Louis in the other. After deep 
 thought, Durward could form no better or safer plan 
 for their security, than that, evading the ambuscade, 
 they should take the road to Liege by the left hand 
 of the Maes, and throw themselves, as the ladies 
 originally designed, upon the protection of the ex- 
 cellent Bishop. That Prelate's will to protect them 
 could not be doubted, and, if reinforced by this 
 Burgundian party of men-at-arms, he might be con- 
 sidered as having the power. At any rate, if the 
 dangers to which he was exposed from the hostility 
 of William de la Marck, and from the troubles in 
 the city of Liege, appeared imminent, he would still 
 be able to protect the unfortunate ladies until they 
 could be dispatched to Germany with a suitable 
 escort. 
 
 To sum up this reasoning for when is a men- 
 
 VOL. I. 19 
 
290 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 tal argument conducted without some reference to 
 selfish considerations ? Quentin imagined that the 
 death or captivity to which King Louis had, in cold 
 blood, consigned him, set him at liberty from his 
 engagements to the Crown of France ; which, there- 
 fore, it was his determined purpose to renounce. 
 The Bishop of Liege was likely, he concluded, to 
 need soldiers, and he thought that, by the interpo- 
 sition of his fair friends, who now, especially the 
 elder Countess, treated him with much familiarity, 
 he might get some command, and perhaps might 
 have the charge of conducting the Ladies of Croye 
 to some place more safe than the neighbourhood of 
 Liege. And, to conclude, the ladies had talked, 
 although almost in a sort of jest, of raising the 
 Countess's own vassals, and, as others did in those 
 stormy times, fortifying her strong castle against 
 all assailants whatever; they had jestingly asked 
 Quentin, whether he would accept the perilous office 
 of their Seneschal ; and, on his embracing the office 
 with ready glee and devotion, they had, in the same 
 spirit, permitted him to kiss both their hands on 
 that confidential and honourable appointment. Nay, 
 he thought that the hand of the Countess Isabelle, 
 one of the best formed and most beautiful to- which 
 true vassal ever did such homage, trembled when 
 his lips rested on it a moment longer than ceremony 
 required, and that some confusion appeared on her 
 cheek and in her eye as she withdrew it. Some- 
 thing might come of all this ; and what brave man, 
 at Quentin Durward's age, but would gladly have 
 taken the thoughts which it awakened, into the con-, 
 siderations which were to determine his conduct ? 
 
 This point settled, he had next to consider in 
 what degree he was to use the further guidance of 
 
 
I 
 
 QUENTIN DURWARD. 29: 
 
 the faithless Bohemian. He had renounced his first 
 thought of killing him in the wood, and if he took 
 another guide, and dismissed him alive, it would 
 be sending the traitor to the camp of William de 
 la Marck, with intelligence of their motions. He 
 thought of taking the Prior into his counsels, and 
 requesting him to detain the Bohemian by force, 
 until they should have time to reach the Bishop's 
 castle ; but, on reflection, he dared not hazard such 
 a proposition to one who was timid both as an old 
 man and a friar, who held the safety of his con- 
 vent the most important object of his duty, and 
 who trembled at the mention of the Wild Boar of 
 Ardennes. 
 
 At length Durward settled a plan of operation, 
 en which he could the better reckon, as the execu- 
 tion rested entirely upon himself ; and, in the cause 
 in which he was engaged, he felt himself capable 
 of every thing. With a firm and bold heart, though 
 conscious of the dangers of his situation, Quentin 
 might be compared to one walking under a load, of 
 the weight of which he is conscious, but which yet 
 is not beyond his strength and power of endurance. 
 Just as his plan was determined, he reached the 
 convent. 
 
 Upon knocking gently at the gate, a brother, con- 
 siderately stationed for that purpose by the Prior, 
 opened it, and acquainted him that the brethren 
 were to be engaged in the choir till daybreak, pray- 
 ing Heaven to forgive to the community the various 
 scandals which had that evening taken place among 
 them. 
 
 The worthy friar offered Quentin permission to 
 attend their devotions ; but his clothes were in such 
 a wet condition, that the young Scot was obliged 
 
292 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 to decline the opportunity, and request permission, 
 instead, to sit by the kitchen fire, in order to his 
 attire being dried before morning ; as he was par- 
 ticularly desirous that the Bohemian, when they 
 should next meet, should observe no traces of his 
 having been abroad during the night. The friar 
 not only granted his request, but afforded him his 
 own company, which fell in very happily with the 
 desire which Durward had to obtain information 
 concerning the two routes which he had heard men- 
 tioned by the Bohemian in his conversation with 
 the lanzknecht. The friar, intrusted upon many 
 occasions with the business of the convent abroad, 
 was the person in the fraternity best qualified to 
 afford him the information he requested, but ob- 
 served, that, as true pilgrims, it became the duty 
 of the ladies whom Quentin escorted, to take the 
 road on the right side of the Maes, by the Cross of 
 the Kings, where the blessed relics of Caspar, Mel- 
 chior, and Balthasar, (as the Catholic Church has 
 named the eastern Magi who came to Bethlehem 
 with their offerings,) had rested as they were trans- 
 ported to Cologne, and on which spot they had 
 wrought many miracles. 
 
 Quentin replied, that the ladies were determined 
 to observe all the holy stations with the utmost 
 punctuality, and would certainly visit that of the 
 Cross, either in going to or returning from Cologne, 
 but they had heard reports that the road by the 
 right side of the river was at present rendered un- 
 safe by the soldiers of the ferocious William de la 
 Marck. 
 
 " Now may Heaven forbid," said Father Francis, 
 "that the Wild Boar of Ardennes should again 
 make his lair so near us ! Nevertheless, the 
 
.* 
 
 QUENTIN DURWARD. 293 
 
 broad Maes will be a good barrier betwixt us, even 
 should it -so chance." 
 
 "But it will be no barrier between my ladies 
 and the marauder, should we cross the river, and 
 travel on the right bank," answered the Scot. 
 
 " Heaven will rotect its own, young man," said 
 the friar ; u for it were hard to think that the Kings 
 of yonder blessed city of Cologne, who will not 
 endure that a Jew or Infidel should even enter 
 within the walls of their town, could be oblivi- 
 ous enough to permit their worshippers, coming to 
 their shrine as true pilgrims, to be plundered and 
 misused by such a miscreant dog as this Boar of 
 Ardennes, who is worse than a whole desert of 
 Saracen heathens, and all the ten tribes of Israel 
 to boot." 
 
 Whatever reliance Quentin, as a sincere Catholic, 
 was bound to rest upon the special protection of 
 Melchior, Caspar, and Balthasar, he could not but 
 recollect, that the pilgrim habits of the ladies being 
 assumed out of mere earthly policy, he and his 
 charge could scarcely expect their countenance on 
 the present occasion ; and therefore resolved, as 
 far as possible, to avoid placing the ladies in any 
 predicament where miraculous interposition might 
 be necessary ; whilst, in the simplicity of his good 
 faith, he himself vowed a pilgrimage to the Three 
 Kings of Cologne in his own proper person, pro- 
 vided the simulate design of those over whose 
 safety he was now watching, should be permitted 
 by those reasonable and royal, as well as sainted 
 personages, to attain the desired effect. 
 
 That he might enter into this obligation with all 
 solemnity, he requested the friar to show him into 
 one of the various chapels which opened from the 
 
294 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 main body of the church of the convent, where, 
 upon his knees, and with sincere devotion, he rati- 
 fied the vow which he had made internally. The dis- 
 tant sound of the choir, the solemnity of the deep 
 and dead hour which he had chosen for this act of 
 devotion, the effect of the glimmering lamp with 
 which the little Gothic building was illuminated 
 all contributed to throw Quentin's mind into 
 the state when it most readily acknowledges its 
 human frailty, and seeks that supernatural aid and 
 protection, which, in every worship, must be con- 
 nected with repentance for past sins, and resolu- 
 tions of future amendment. That the object of his 
 devotion was misplaced, was not the fault of 
 Quentin ; and, its purpose being sincere, we can 
 scarce suppose it unacceptable to the only true 
 Deity, who regards the motives, and not the forms 
 of prayer, and in whose eyes the sincere devotion 
 of a heathen is more estimable than the specious 
 hypocrisy of a Pharisee. 
 
 Having commended himself and his helpless 
 companions to the Saints, and to the keeping of 
 Providence, Quentin at length retired to rest, leav- 
 ing the friar much edified by the depth and sin- 
 cerity of his devotion. 
 
AUTHOR'S NOTES. 
 
 Note I., p. 103. Gipsies or Bohemians, 
 
 In a former volume of this edition of the Waverley Novels, 
 (Guy Mannering,) the reader will find some remarks on the 
 gipsies as they are found in Scotland. But it is well known 
 that this extraordinary variety of the human race exists in nearly 
 the same primitive state, speaking the same language, in almost 
 all the kingdoms of Europe, and conforming in certain respects 
 to the manners of the people around them, but yet remaining 
 separated from them by certain material distinctions, in which 
 they correspond with each other, and thus maintain their preten- 
 sions to be considered as a distinct race. Their first appearance 
 in Europe took place in the beginning of the fifteenth cen- 
 tury, when various bands of this singular people appeared in 
 the different countries of Europe. They claimed an Egyptian 
 descent, and their features attested that they were of Eastern 
 origin. The account given by these singular people was, that 
 it was appointed to them, as a penance, to travel for a certain 
 number of years. This apology was probably selected as being 
 most congenial to the superstitions of the countries which they 
 visited. Their appearance, however, and manners, strongly 
 contradicted the allegation that they travelled from any 
 religious motive. 
 
 Their dress and accoutrements were at once showy and squalid; 
 those who acted as captains and leaders of any horde, and such 
 always appeared as their commanders, were arrayed in dresses 
 of the most showy colours, such as scarlet or light green ; were 
 well mounted ; assumed the title of dukes and counts, and 
 affected considerable consequence. The rest of the tribe were 
 most miserable in their diet and apparel, fed without hesitation 
 on animals which had died of disease, and were clad in filthy 
 and scanty rags, which hardly sufficed for the ordinary pur- 
 poses of common decency. Their complexion was positively 
 Eastern, approaching to that of the Hindoos. 
 
 Their manners were as depraved as their appearance was poor 
 and beggarly. The men were in general thieves, and the women 
 
296 AUTHOR'S NOTES. 
 
 of the most abandoned character. The few arts which they 
 studied with success, were of a slight and idle, though ingenious 
 description. They practised working in iron, but never upon 
 any great scale. Many were good sportsmen, good musicians, 
 and masters, in a word, of all those trivial arts, the practice of 
 which is little better than mere idleness. But their ingenuity 
 never ascended into industry. Two or three other peculiarities 
 seem to have distinguished them in all countries. Their pre- 
 tensions to read fortunes, by palmistry and by astrology, 
 acquired them sometimes respect, but oftener drew them under 
 suspicion as sorcerers ; and lastly, the universal accusation that 
 they augmented their horde by stealing children, subjected them 
 to doubt and execration. From this it happened, that the pre- 
 tension set up by these wanderers, of being pilgrims in the act of 
 penance, although it was at first admitted, and in many instances 
 obtained them protection from the governments of the coun- 
 tries through which they travelled, was afterwards totally 
 disbelieved, and they were considered as incorrigible rogues and 
 vagrants ; they incurred almost everywhere sentence of banish- 
 ment, and, where suffered to remain, were rather objects of 
 persecution than of protection from the law. 
 
 There is a curious and accurate account of their arrival in 
 France in the Journal of a Doctor of Theology, which is pre- 
 served and published by the learned Pasquier. The following 
 is an extract : 
 
 " On August 27th, 1427, came to Paris twelve penitents, Penan- 
 ciers, (penance doers,) as they called themselves, viz. a duke, an earl, 
 and ten men, all on horseback, and calling themselves good Chris- 
 tians. They were of Lower Egypt, and gave out that, not long before, 
 the Christians had subdued their country, and obliged them to 
 embrace Christianity on pain of being put to death. Those who were 
 baptized were great lords in their own country, and had a king and 
 queen there. Soon after their conversion, the Saracens overran the 
 country, and obliged them to renounce Christianity. "When the 
 Emperor of Germany, the King of Poland, and other Christian 
 princes, heard of this, they fell upon them, and obliged the whole 
 of them, both great and small, to quit the country, and go to the 
 Pope at Rome, who enjoined them seven years' penance to wander 
 over the world, without lying in a bed. 
 
 "They had been wandering five years when they came to Paris 
 first ; the principal people, and soon after the commonalty, about 
 100 or 120, reduced (according to their own account) from 1000 or 
 1200, when they went from home, the rest being dead, with their 
 
AUTHOR'S NOTES. 29; 
 
 king and queen. They were lodged by the police at some distance 
 from the city, at Chapel St. Denis. 
 
 "Nearly all of them had their ears bored, and wore two silver 
 rings in each, which they said were esteemed ornaments in their 
 country. The men were black, their hair curled ; the women 
 remarkably black, their only clothes a large old duffle garment, tied 
 over the shoulders with a cloth or cord, and under it a miserable 
 rocket. In short, they were the most poor miserable creatures that 
 had ever been seen in France ; and, notwithstanding their poverty, 
 there were among them women who, by looking into people's hands, 
 told their fortunes, and what was worse, they picked people's poc- 
 kets of their money, and got it into their own, by telling these things 
 through airy magic, et cfetera." 
 
 Notwithstanding the ingenious account of themselves ren- 
 dered by these gipsies, the Bishop of Paris ordered a friar, 
 called Le Petit Jacobin, to preach a sermon, excommunicating 
 all the men and women who had had recourse to these Bohe- 
 mians on the subject of the future, and shown their hands for 
 that purpose. They departed from Paris for Pontoise in the 
 month of September. 
 
 Pasquier remarks upon this singular journal, that however 
 the story of a penance savours of a trick, these people wandered 
 ap and down France, under the eye, and with the knowledge, 
 of the magistrates, for more than a hundred years ; and it was 
 not till 1561, that a sentence of banishment was passed against 
 them in that kingdom. 
 
 The arrival of the Egyptians (as these singular people were 
 called) in various parts of Europe, corresponds with the period 
 in which Timur or Tamerlane invaded Hindostan, affording its 
 natives the choice between the Koran and death. There can 
 be little doubt that these wanderers consisted originally of the 
 Hindostanee tribes, who, displaced, and flying from the sabres 
 of the Mahornmedans, undertook this species of wandering life, 
 without well knowing whither they were going. It is natural 
 to suppose the band, as it now exists, is much mingled with 
 Europeans, but most of these have been brought up from child- 
 hood among them, and learned all their practices. 
 
 It is strong evidence of this, that when they are in closest 
 contact with the ordinary peasants around them, they still keep 
 their language a mystery. There is little doubt, however, that 
 it is a dialect of the Hindostanee, from the specimens produced 
 by Grellman, Hoyland, and others, who have written on the 
 

 298 AUTHOR'S NOTES. 
 
 subject. But the author has, besides their authority, personal 
 occasion to know that an individual, out of mere curiosity, and 
 availing himself with patience and assiduity of such opportu- 
 nities as offered, has made himself capable of conversing with 
 any gipsy whom he meets, or can, like the royal Hal, drink 
 with any tinker in his own language. The astonishment 
 excited among these vagrants on finding a stranger participant 
 of their mystery, occasions very ludicrous scenes. It is to be 
 hoped this gentleman will publish the knowledge he possesses 
 on so singular a topic. 
 
 There are prudential reasons for postponing this disclosure at 
 present ; for although much more reconciled to society since 
 they have been less the objects of legal persecution, the gipsies 
 are still a ferocious and vindictive people. 
 
 But notwithstanding this is certainly the case, I cannot but 
 add, from my own observation of nearly fifty years, that the 
 manners of these vagrant tribes are much ameliorated ; that 
 I have known individuals amongst them who have united them- 
 selves to civilized society, and maintain respectable characters, 
 and that great alteration has been wrought in their cleanliness 
 and general mode of life. 
 
 Note II., p. 231. Galeotti. 
 
 Martius Galeotti was a native of Narni, in Umbria. He was 
 secretary to Matthias Corvinus, King of Hungary, and tutor to 
 his son, John Corvinus. While at his court, he composed a 
 work, De jocose dictis et factis Regis Matthice Gorvini. He left 
 Hungary in 1477, and was made prisoner at Venice on a charge 
 of having propagated heterodox opinions in a treatise entitled, 
 De homine interior e et corpore ejus. He was obliged to recant 
 some of these doctrines, and might have suffered seriously but 
 for the protection of Sextus IV., then Pope, who had been one 
 of his scholars. He went to France, attached himself to Louis 
 XL, and died in his service. 
 
 Note III., p. 264. Religion of the Bohemians. 
 
 It was a remarkable feature of the character of these wan- 
 derers, that they did not, like the Jews, whom they otherwise 
 resembled in some particulars, possess or profess any particu- 
 lar religion, whether in form or principle. They readily 
 
AUTHOR'S NOTES. 299 
 
 conformed, as far as might be required, with the religion of any 
 country in which they happened to sojourn, nor did they ever 
 practise it more than was demanded of them. It is certain that 
 in India they embraced neither the tenets of the religion of 
 Bramah nor of Mahomet. They have hence been considered as 
 belonging to the outcast East Indian tribes of Nuts or Parias. 
 Their want of religion is supplied by a good deal of superstition. 
 Such of their ritual as can be discovered, for example that 
 belonging to marriage, is savage in the extreme, and resembles 
 the customs of the Hottentots more than of any civilized people. 
 They adopt various observances, picked up from the religion of 
 the country in which they live. It is, or rather was, the custom 
 of the tribes on the Borders of England and Scotland, to attri- 
 bute success to those journeys which are commenced by passing 
 through the parish church ; and they usually try to obtain per- 
 mission from the beadle to do so when the church is empty, for 
 the performance of divine service is not considered as essential 
 to the omen. They are, therefore, totally devoid of any effectual 
 sense of religion ; and the higher, or more instructed class, may 
 be considered as acknowledging no deity save those of Epicurus, 
 and such is described as being the faith, or no faith, of Hay- 
 raddin Maugrabin. 
 
 I may here take notice, that nothing is more disagreeable to 
 this indolent and voluptuous people, then being forced to follow 
 any regular profession. When Paris was garrisoned by the 
 Allied troops in the year 1815, the author was walking with 
 a British officer, near a post held by the Prussian troops. He 
 happened at the time to smoke a cigar, and was about, while 
 passing the sentinel, to take it out of his mouth, in compliance 
 with a general regulation to that effect, when, greatly to the 
 astonishment of the passengers, the soldier addressed them in 
 these words : " Rauchen sie immerfort; verdamt sey der Preussiche 
 dienst !" that is, " Smoke away ; may the Prussian service be 
 d d ! " Upon looking closely at the man, he seemed plainly 
 to be a Zigeuner, or gipsy, who took this method of expressing 
 his detestation of the duty imposed on him. When the risk he 
 ran by doing so is considered, it will be found to argue a deep 
 degree of dislike which could make him commit himself so 
 unwarily. If he had been overheard by a sergeant or corporal, 
 the prugel would have been the slightest instrument of punish- 
 ment employed. 
 
EDITOR'S NOTES. 
 
 (a) p. xxiii. " One or two peculiar forms of oath." Louie 
 XI. was not alone in his view of the oath. The Church, or 
 popular superstition not subdued by the Church, made the 
 virtue of the oath depend on a kind of magical sanction. 
 Thus Harold swore on concealed relics of whose presence he 
 was unaware till after his oath to William of Normandy was 
 done. The cross-hilts of swords were enriched with relics, and 
 used for swearing on. As, on one hand, the taker of an oath 
 might be pledging himself on more than he was aware of, when 
 relics were concealed, so he tried to defend himself by only 
 admitting one or two oaths as really binding. The more 
 obscure the saint or the relic which he chose, the better chance 
 he had of not being pinned down to the oath which he revered. 
 It, is only fair to suppose that William Lamberton, Bishop of 
 St. Andrews, in the reign of Edward I., had some oath which 
 he respected. On great obvious oaths, however, like the Gos- 
 pels, the Sacrament, the Holy Cross, the Black Rood of 
 Scotland, the cross called Gnayth, and so forth, the Bishop 
 perjured himself three or four deep, and, apparently, was 
 none the worse. The oath which he did respect was never 
 discovered by the English. 
 
 (b) p. xxviii. " An ignorant crack-brained peasant." Com- 
 mines says (vi. 8) : " The king sent to seek from Calabria a 
 man called Robert, The Holy Man,' so styled on account of 
 the sanctity of his life. From the age of twelve to that of 
 forty-three he had lived under a rock. Never had he eaten, 
 nor has now, since he adopted this strictness, flesh, nor fish, 
 nor eggs nor milk, and methinks I never saw a man of such 
 sanctity, nor one in whom the Holy Spirit more manifestly 
 spoke, for he was no clerk, nor had no skill of letters." The 
 Pope and Cardinals treated the hermit with great honour ; 
 Louis kneeled before him as if he had been the Pope, " to the 
 end that he might lengthen his life. He answered as became 
 a man of wisdom." 
 
 ^ 
 * 
 
3Q2 EDITOR'S NOTES. 
 
 (c) p. xlii. " The fickleness of fashion " in gardening. In 
 the proof-sheets of " Redgauntlet " we find Scott repeating the 
 sense of this passage, and James Ballantyne remarking that it 
 had occurred already in this place. 
 
 (d) p. lvii. " Dr. Dibdin." The work referred to is in Dr. 
 Dibdin's " Bibliographical, Antiquarian, and Picturesque Tour 
 in France and Germany " (1821, three vols, royal 8vo). 
 
 (e) p. 6. " Les Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles." Scott's own 
 edition was not " the right edition " here described, but that of 
 Cologne 1736. 
 
 (/) p. 7. " The battle of Montl'hery." See Commines, 
 i. 3. The date was July 27, 1465. 
 
 (g) p. 10. " About the year 1468." Scott elsewhere ex- 
 plains the slight anachronism as to the murder of the Bishop 
 of Liege, which took place some fourteen years later. The 
 extraordinary defences, too, of Plessis-les-Tours are assigned by 
 Commines to the suspiciousness of the King's latest years 
 (vi. 7) : " Tout a l'environ de la place dudit Plessis il feit faire 
 un treillis de gros barreaux de fer etc." 
 
 (h) p. 19. " His cap, in particular." " Our king wore a 
 very short habit, so shabby that nought could be worse, and a 
 bad enough cloth he always wore, and a bad hat (un mauvais 
 chapeau) he had unlike others, and a leaden image in it." 
 (Commines, ii. 8.) 
 
 (i) p. 35. " The covin-tree." There is a large oak-tree of 
 this kind outside the ruined tower of Earlston, on the Ken, in 
 Galloway, once a seat of the Covenanting Gordons. A similar 
 tree, an ash, " the hanging tree," at Tushielaw, on the Ettrick, 
 was lately burned down. At Branxholme only a stump of the 
 Hanging Tree, an ash, now remains. These trees have as fatal 
 a reputation as those "dans le verger du Roi Louis." 
 
 (k) p. 77. " Oliver Dain." Commines calls Maitre Olivier 
 " a native of a village near Ghent." Louis sent him to reduce 
 that town to his obedience, and Commines ventured to say that 
 he expected little good from the mission. Oliver, when he 
 met the daughter of Charles the Bold, was " vesti trop mieulx 
 qu'il ne luy appartenoit M (" better dressed than became him "). 
 He was informed that he had better depart, before he was 
 thrown into the river. He styled himself Comte Meullanc. 
 He managed to seize Tournay for the King, and Commines 
 admits, like Balafre in the novel, that a person of more conse- 
 quence might have been less successful. (Commines, v. 13. 1 
 
w 
 
 EDITOR'S NOTES. 303 
 
 (J) p. 177. Murder of John of Burgundy. (See Commines, 
 iv. 9.) The Duke and the King met on the Bridge of Monte- 
 reau, with a barrier between them. The Duke opened the door 
 on his side and crossed : " incontinent il fut tu6 " instantly 
 he was slain, and those with him, whence came many evils. The 
 murder was done to avenge the Duke of Orleans. " Grande 
 folie est a deux grands Princes, qui sont comine esgaulx en puis- 
 sance, de s'entrevoir," says Commines. It will be remembered 
 that Henry VIII. constantly desired a personal interview with 
 James V., which Cardinal Beaton always opposed. Perhaps 
 the Cardinal was of the same mind as Commines. 
 
 (m) p. 183. "His remarks, always shrewd and caustic." 
 See Commines, iv. 10, where the King, having broken a jest 
 against the English in presence of a Gascon residing usually in 
 England, felt obliged to buy the man's silence. M Et ainsi se 
 condemnat le Roy en ceste amende, cognoissant qu'il avoit trop 
 parle." 
 
 (??) p. 194. " I am Joan of France." " La Royne s'estoit 
 delivree d'une belle Jille," says the Chronique of Jean de Troyes 
 (1464). On May 19, 1464, Louis d'Orleans, afterwards Louis 
 XII., at this time scarcely two years old, was betrothed in a 
 manner, " il y eut des accords signes pour le manage," to 
 Jeanne de France. 
 
 (0) p. 203. " A manuscript copy of the Chronique Scandal- 
 euse of Jean de Troyes." The chronicle, as it exists, is not 
 " scandalous " at all, though Brantome calls it sanglante. 
 (" Oeuvres," La Haye 1740, vi. 38.) 
 
 (p) p. 222. M His Jacob's staff." This is merely the divining- 
 rod usually made of a hazel fork, as described in the Editor's 
 Notes to " The Fortunes of Nigel." 
 
 (q) p. 255. " An invention ... of Cardinal Balue." Com- 
 mines himself occupied one of these cages of Little Ease for 
 eight months, " soubs le Roy de present." He describes the 
 cage as eight feet wide, and a foot higher than a man. 
 ^Commines, 13.) He says that Balue's captivity lasted for 
 fourteen years. 
 
 Andrew Lang. 
 
 November 1893. 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 Abye, to pay the penalty for, to 
 
 suffer. 
 Ain, own. 
 Aught, possessions. 
 Auld, old. 
 
 Bairn, a child. 
 
 Beauffet, a sideboard. 
 
 "Bifteck de mouton," a beef- 
 steak of mutton. 
 
 Brae, a hill. 
 
 Braeman, one who lives on the 
 southern slope of the Gram- 
 pians. 
 
 Brantwein, brandy. 
 
 Brogue, the Highland shoe. 
 
 Browst, a brewing , as much as 
 is brewed at one time. 
 
 Callant, a boy, a stripling. 
 Caserne, barracks. 
 Chouse, to swindle. 
 Craig, the neck. 
 
 Deas, the seat of honour. 
 Demi-volte, a half-turn made by 
 a horse with the forelegs raised. 
 
 Eblis, in Mohammedan mythol- 
 ogy, the chief of the fallen 
 angels. 
 
 Gaed, went 
 Gear, affair, goods. 
 Gillie, a Highland servant- 
 
 Gramercy, many thanks. 
 Grub Street once famous for 
 its literary hacks. 
 
 Hali^ome, honour. 
 Hunting-mass, the prayers with- 
 out the consecration. 
 
 Jackmen, men retained for fight- 
 ing purposes. 
 
 Iiiard, a small silver coin. 
 
 " Lie leaguer," to remain sta- 
 tionary, fixed. 
 
 " Linea vitee," in palmistry, a 
 line on the hand. 
 
 Tjat. to please. 
 
 M Mahomet's coffin," said to be 
 
 hung in mid-air between two 
 
 magnets. 
 Mahound, a contemptuous name 
 
 for Mahomet. 
 Maigre, applied to soup made 
 
 without meat. 
 Malapert, impertinent. 
 Marechauss6e, a company of 
 
 horse-patrols. 
 Meikle, much. 
 
 Partisan, a pike. 
 Pasques-Dieu, the favourite oath 
 
 of Louis XI. 
 Pirn, the yarn wound on a reel; 
 
3o6 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 lit. a reel round which thread 
 
 is wound. 
 Polk, Pulk, or body of Cossacks. 
 Prime, midnight service. 
 
 Rebec, a three-stringed violin. 
 Romaunt, a poetical romance. 
 Rouse, a draught. 
 Ruffle, a riot, a disturbance; to 
 
 swagger. 
 Runlet, a small barrel. 
 
 Schelm, a rogue. 
 
 Skaith, harm, hurt. 
 
 Spreagh^ prey, booty. 
 
 Springald, a youth. 
 
 Straick, grain stroked off the 
 top of the bushel in measur- 
 ing. 
 
 Tasker, a labourer. 
 
 To-name. A name added, for 
 
 the sake of distinction, to one's 
 
 surname. 
 
 Weel, welL 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PALMISTRY. 
 
 When many a merry tale and many a song 
 
 Cheer'd the rough road, we wish'd the rough road long. 
 
 The rough road, then, returning in a round, 
 
 Mock'd our enchanted steps, for all was fairy ground. 
 
 Samuel Johnson. 
 
 By peep of day Quentin Durward had forsaken 
 his little cell, had roused the sleepy grooms, and, 
 with more than his wonted care, seen that every 
 thing was prepared for the day's journey. Girths 
 and bridles, the horse-furniture, and the shoes of 
 the horses themselves, were carefully inspected with 
 his own eyes, that there might be as little chance 
 as possible of the occurrence of any of those casual- 
 ties, which, petty as they seem, often interrupt or 
 disconcert travelling. The horses were also, under 
 his own inspection, carefully fed, so as to render 
 them fit for a long day's journey, or, if that should 
 be necessary, for a hasty flight. 
 
 Quentin then betook himself to his own cham- 
 ber, armed himself with unusual care, and belted on 
 his sword with the feeling at once of approaching 
 
 YOL. II. l 
 
2 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 danger, and of stern determination to dare it to the 
 uttermost. 
 
 These generous feelings gave him a loftiness of 
 step, and a dignity of manner, which the Ladies 
 of Croye had not yet observed in him, though they 
 had been highly pleased and interested by the grace, 
 yet naivete, of his general behaviour and conversa- 
 tion, and the mixture of shrewd intelligence which 
 naturally belonged to him, with the simplicity 
 arising from his secluded education and distant 
 country. He let them understand, that it would be 
 necessary that they should prepare for their journey 
 this morning rather earlier than usual ; and, accord- 
 ingly, they left the convent immediately after a 
 morning repast, for which, as well as the other hos- 
 pitalities of the House, the ladies made acknow- 
 ledgment by a donation to the altar, befitting rather 
 their rank than their appearance. But this excited 
 no suspicion, as they were supposed to be English- 
 women ; and the attribute of superior wealth 
 attached at that time to the insular character as 
 strongly as in our own day. 
 
 The Prior blessed them as they mounted to de- 
 part, and congratulated Quentin on the absence of 
 his heathen guide; "for," said the venerable man, 
 " better stumble in the path, than be upheld by the 
 arm of a thief or robber." 
 
 Quentin was not quite of his opinion ; for, dan- 
 gerous as he knew the Bohemian to be, he thought 
 he could use his services, and, at the same time, 
 baffle his treasonable purpose, now that he saw 
 clearly to what it tended. But his anxiety upon 
 this subject was soon at an end, for the little caval- 
 cade was not an hundred yards from the monastery 
 and the village before Maugrabin joined it, riding 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 3 
 
 as usual on his little active and wild-looking jennet. 
 Their road led them along the side of the same 
 brook where Quentin had overheard the mysterious 
 conference of the preceding evening, and Hayraddin 
 had not long rejoined them, ere they passed under 
 the very willow-tree which had afforded Durward 
 the means of concealment, when he became an un- 
 suspected hearer of what then passed betwixt that 
 false guide and the lanzknecht. 
 
 The recollections which the spot brought back 
 stirred Quentin to enter abruptly into conversation 
 with his guide, whom hitherto he had scarce spoken 
 to. 
 
 " Where hast thou found night-quarter, thou pro- 
 fane knave ? " said the Scot. 
 
 " Your wisdom may guess, by looking on my 
 gaberdine," answered the Bohemian, pointing to his 
 dress, which was covered with the seeds of hay. 
 
 " A good hay-stack," said Quentin, " is a conve- 
 nient bed for an astrologer, and a much better than 
 a heathen scoffer at our blessed religion, and its 
 ministers, ever deserves." 
 
 " It suited my Klepper better than me, though;" 
 said Hayraddin, patting his horse on the neck ; " for 
 he had food and shelter at the same time. The old 
 bald fools turned him loose, as if a wise man's horse 
 could have infected with wit or sagacity a whole 
 convent of asses. Lucky that Klepper knows my 
 whistle, and follows me as truly as a hound, or we 
 had never met again, and you in your turn might 
 have whistled for a guide." 
 
 " I have told thee more than once," said Dur- 
 ward, sternly, " to restrain thy ribaldry when thou 
 chancest to be in worthy men's company, a thing 
 which, T believe, hath rarely happened to thee in 
 
4 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 thy life before now ; and I promise thee, that, did I 
 hold thee as faithless a guide as I esteem thee a 
 blasphemous and worthless caitiff, my Scottish dirk 
 and thy heathenish heart had ere now been ac- 
 quainted, although the doing such a deed were as 
 ignoble as the sticking of swine." 
 
 " A wild boar is near akin to a sow," said the 
 Bohemian, without flinching from the sharp look 
 with which Quentin regarded him, or altering, in 
 the slightest degree, the caustic indifference which 
 he affected in his language; "and many men," he 
 subjoined, " find both pride, pleasure, and profit, in 
 sticking them." 
 
 Astonished at the man's ready confidence, and 
 uncertain whether he did not know more of his own 
 history and feelings than was pleasant for him to 
 converse upon, Quentin broke off a conversation in 
 which he had gained no advantage over Maugra- 
 bin, and fell back to his accustomed post beside the 
 ladies. 
 
 We have already observed, that a considerable 
 degree of familiarity had begun to establish itself 
 between them. The elder Countess treated him 
 (being once well assured of the nobility of his birth) 
 like a favoured equal ; and though her niece showed 
 her regard to their protector less freely, yet, under 
 every disadvantage of bashfulness and timidity, 
 Quentin thought he could plainly perceive, that his 
 company and conversation were not by any means 
 indifferent to her. 
 
 Nothing gives such life and soul to youthful 
 gaiety as the consciousness that it is successfully 
 received ; and Quentin had accordingly, during the 
 former period of their journey, amused his fair 
 charge with the liveliness of his conversation, and 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 5 
 
 the songs and tales of his country, the former of 
 which he sung in his native language, while his 
 efforts to render the latter into his foreign and 
 imperfect French, gave rise to a hundred little 
 mistakes and errors of speech, as diverting as the 
 narratives themselves. But on this anxious morn- 
 ing, he rode beside the ladies of Croye without any 
 of his usual attempts to amuse them, and they 
 could not help observing his silence as something 
 remarkable. 
 
 " Our young companion has seen a wolf," said the 
 Lady Hameline, alluding to an ancient superstition, 
 " and he has lost his tongue in consequence." 1 
 
 " To say I had tracked a fox were nearer the 
 mark," thought Quentin, but gave the reply no 
 utterance. 
 
 " Are you well, Seignior Quentin ? " said the 
 Countess Isabelle, in a tone of interest at which 
 she herself blushed, while she felt that it was 
 something more than the distance between them 
 warranted. 
 
 " He hath sat up carousing with the jolly friars," 
 said the Lady Hameline ; " the Scots are like the 
 Germans, who spend all their mirth over the Khein- 
 wein, ana bring only their staggering steps to the 
 dance in the evening, and their aching heads to the 
 ladies' bower in the morning." 
 
 " Nay, gentle ladies," said Quentin, " I deserve 
 not your reproach. The good friars were at their 
 
 1 Vox quoque Moerim 
 
 Jam f ugit ipsa ; lupi Moerim videre priores. 
 
 Virgilii, ix. ecloga. 
 
 The commentators add, in explanation of this passage, the opi- 
 nion of Pliny : " The being beheld by a wolf in Italy is accounted 
 noxious, and is supposed to take away the speech of a man, if these 
 animals behold him ere he sees them." 
 
6 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 devotions almost all night ; and for myself, my drink 
 was barely a cup of their thinnest and most ordinary 
 wine." 
 
 " It is the badness of his fare that has put him 
 out of humour," said the Countess Isabelle. " Cheer 
 up, Seignior Quentin; and should we ever visit 
 my ancient Castle of Bracquemont together, if I 
 myself should stand your cup-bearer, and hand it 
 to you, you shall have a generous cup of wine, that 
 the like never grew upon the vines of Hochheim or 
 Johannisberg." 
 
 " A glass of water, noble lady, from your hand " 
 Thus far did Quentin begin, but his voice trembled ; 
 and Isabelle continued, as if she had been insen- 
 sible of the tenderness of the accentuation upon 
 the personal pronoun. 
 
 "The wine was stocked in the deep vaults of 
 Bracquemont, by my great-grandfather the Khine- 
 grave Godfrey," said the Countess Isabelle. 
 
 " Who won the hand of her great-grandmother," 
 interjected the Lady Hameline, interrupting her 
 niece, " by proving himself the best son of chivalry, 
 at the great tournament of Strasbourg ten knights 
 were slain in the lists. But those days are over, 
 and no one now thinks of encountering peril for the 
 sake of honour, or to relieve distressed beauty." 
 
 To this speech, which was made in the tone in 
 which a modern beauty, whose charms are rather 
 on the wane, may be heard to condemn the rude- 
 ness of the present age, Quentin took upon him 
 to reply, " that there was no lack of that chivalry 
 which the Lady Hameline seemed to consider as 
 extinct, and that, were it eclipsed everywhere else, 
 it would still glow in the bosoms of the Scottish 
 gentlemen." 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 7 
 
 * Hear him ! " said the Lady Hameline ; " he 
 would have us believe, that in his cold and bleak 
 country still lives the noble fire which has decayed 
 in France and Germany ! The poor youth is like 
 a Swiss mountaineer, mad with partiality to his 
 native land he will next tell us of the vines and 
 olives of Scotland." 
 
 " No, madam," said Durward ; " of the wine and 
 the oil of our mountains I can say little, more than 
 that our swords can compel these rich productions, 
 as tribute from our wealthier neighbours. But for 
 the unblemished faith and unfaded honour of Scot- 
 land, I must now put to the proof how far you can 
 repose trust in them, however' mean the individual 
 who can offer nothing more as a pledge of your 
 safety." 
 
 " You speak mysteriously you know of some 
 pressing and present danger," said the Lady 
 Hameline. 
 
 " I have read it in his eye for this hour past ! " 
 exclaimed the Lady Isabelle, clasping her hands. 
 " Sacred Virgin, what will become of us ? " 
 
 " Nothing, I hope, but what you would desire," 
 answered Durward. " And now I am compelled to 
 ask Gentle ladies, can you trust me ? " 
 
 " Trust you ? " answered the Countess Hameline 
 " certainly But why the question ? Or how 
 far do you ask our confidence ? " 
 
 " I, on my part," said the Countess Isabelle, " trust 
 you implicitly, and without condition. If you can 
 deceive us, Quentin, I will no more look for truth, 
 save in Heaven." 
 
 "Gentle lady," replied Durward, highly grati- 
 fied, " you do me but justice. My object is to alter 
 our route, by proceeding directly by the left bank 
 
 ( 
 
 ;ty 
 
 
8 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 of the Maes to Liege, instead of crossing at Namur. 
 This differs from the order assigned by King Louis, 
 and the instructions given to the guide. But I 
 heard news in the monastery of marauders on the 
 right bank of the Maes, and of the march of Bur- 
 gundian soldiers to suppress them. Both circum- 
 stances alarm me for your safety. Have I your 
 permission so far to deviate from the route of your 
 journey ? " 
 
 "My ample and full permission," answered the 
 younger lady. 
 
 "Cousin," said the Lady Hameline, "I believe 
 with you, that the youth means us well ; but be- 
 think you we transgress the instructions of King 
 Louis, so positively iterated." 
 
 " And why should we regard his instructions ? " 
 said the Lady Tsabelle. "I am, I thank Heaven 
 for it, no subject of his ; and, as a suppliant, he has 
 abused the confidence he induced me to repose in 
 him. I would not dishonour this young gentleman 
 by weighing his word for an instant against the 
 injunctions of yonder crafty and selfish despot." 
 
 " Now, may God bless you for that very word, 
 lady," said Quentin, joyously;, "and if I deserve 
 not the trust it expresses, tearing with wild horses 
 in this life, and eternal tortures in the next, were 
 e'en too good for my deserts." 
 
 So saying, he spurred his horse, and rejoined the 
 Bohemian. This worthy seemed of a remarkably 
 passive, if not a forgiving temper. Injury or threat 
 never dwelt, or at least seemed not to dwell, on his 
 recollection; and he entered into the conversation 
 which Durward presently commenced, just as if 
 there had been no unkindly word betwixt them in 
 the course of the morning. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 9 
 
 "The dog," thought the Scot, "snarls not now, be- 
 cause he intends to clear scores with me at once and 
 for ever, when he can snatch me by the very throat ; 
 but we will try for once whether we cannot foil a 
 traitor at his own weapons. Honest Hayraddin," 
 he said, " thou hast travelled with us for ten days, 
 yet hast never shown us a specimen of your skill 
 in fortune- telling ; which you are, nevertheless, so 
 fond of practising, that you must needs display your 
 gifts in every convent at which we stop, at the 
 risk of being repaid by a night's lodging under a 
 haystack." 
 
 "You have never asked me for a specimen of 
 my skill," said the gipsy. " You are like the rest 
 of the world, contented to ridicule those mysteries 
 which they do not understand." 
 
 "Give me then a present proof of your skill," 
 said Quentin ; and, ungloving his hand, he held it 
 out to the Zingaro. 
 
 Hayraddin carefully regarded all the lines which 
 crossed each other on the Scotchman's palm, and 
 noted, with equally scrupulous attention, the little 
 risings or swellings at the roots of the fingers, 
 which were then believed as intimately connected 
 with the disposition, habits, and fortunes of the indi- 
 vidual, as the organs of the brain are pretended to 
 be in our own time. 
 
 "Here is a hand," said Hayraddin, "which 
 speaks of toils endured, and dangers encountered. 
 I read in it an early acquaintance with the hilt of 
 the sword; and yet some acquaintance also with 
 the clasps of the mass-book." 
 
 "This of my past life you may have learned 
 elsewhere," said Quentin ; " tell me something of 
 the future." 
 
io QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 " This line from the hill of Venus," said the Bo- 
 hemian, " not broken off abruptly, but attending 
 and accompanying the line of life, argues a certain 
 and large fortune by marriage, whereby the party 
 shall be raised among the wealthy and the noble by 
 the influence of successful love." 
 
 "Such promises you make to all who ask your 
 advice," said Quentin ; " they are part of your art." 
 
 " What I tell you is as certain," said Hayraddin, 
 " as that you shall in a brief space be menaced with 
 mighty danger ; which I infer from this bright 
 blood-red line cutting the table-line transversely, 
 and intimating stroke of sword, or other violence, 
 from which you shall only be saved by the attach- 
 ment of a faithful friend." 
 
 " Thyself, ha ? " said Quentin, somewhat indignant 
 that the chiromantist should thus practise on his 
 credulity, and endeavour to found a reputation by 
 predicting the consequences of his own treachery. 
 
 " My art," replied the Zingaro, " tells me nought 
 that concerns myself." 
 
 " In this, then, the seers of my land," said Quen- 
 tin, " excel your boasted knowledge ; for their skill 
 teaches them the dangers by which they are them- 
 selves beset. I left not my hills without having 
 felt a portion of the double vision with which their 
 inhabitants are gifted ; and I will give thee a proof 
 of it, in exchange for thy specimen of palmistry. 
 Hayraddin, the danger which threatens me lies on 
 the right bank of the river I will avoid it by 
 travelling to Liege on the left bank." 
 
 The guide listened with an apathy, which, know- 
 ing the circumstances in which Maugrabin stood, 
 Quentin could not by any means comprehend. " If 
 you accomplish your purpose," was the Bohemian's 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. ir 
 
 reply, "the dangerous crisis will be transferred 
 from your lot to mine." 
 
 " I thought," said Quentin, " that you said but 
 now, that you could not presage your own fortune ? " 
 
 "Not in the manner in which I have but now 
 told you yours," answered Hayraddin ; " but it re- 
 quires little knowledge of Louis of Valois, to pre- 
 sage that he will hang your guide, because your 
 pleasure was to deviate from the road which he 
 recommended." 
 
 " The attaining with safety the purpose of the 
 journey, and ensuring its happy termination," said 
 Quentin, "must atone for a deviation from the 
 exact line of the prescribed route." 
 
 " Ay," replied the Bohemian, " if you are sure that 
 the King had in his own eye the same termination 
 of the pilgrimage which he insinuated to you." 
 
 " And of what other termination is it possible that 
 he could have been meditating ? or why should you 
 suppose he had any purpose in his thought, other than 
 was avowed in his direction ? " enquired Quentin. 
 
 " Simply," replied the Zingaro, " that those who 
 know aught of the Most Christian King, are aware, 
 that the purpose about which he is most anxious, 
 is always that which he is least willing to declare. 
 Let our gracious Louis send twelve embassies, and 
 I will forfeit my.neck to the gallows a year before 
 it is due, if in eleven of them there is not some- 
 thing at the bottom of the ink-horn more than the 
 pen has written in the letters of credence." 
 
 "I regard not your foul suspicions," answered 
 Quentin ; " my duty is plain and peremptory to 
 convey these ladies in safety to Liege ; and I take 
 it on me to think that I best discharge that duty 
 in changing our prescribed route, and keeping the 
 
12 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 left side of the river Maes. It is likewise the 
 direct road to Liege. By crossing the river, we 
 should lose time, and incur fatigue, to no purpose 
 Wherefore should we do so ? " 
 
 " Only because pilgrims, as they call themselves, 
 destined for Cologne," said Hayraddin, " do not 
 usually descend the Maes so low as Liege ; and that 
 the route of the ladies will be accounted contradic- 
 tory of their professed destination." 
 
 "If we are challenged on that account," said 
 Quentin, " we will say that alarms of the wicked 
 Duke of Gueldres, or of William de la Marck, or 
 of the Ecorcheurs and lanzknechts, on the right side of 
 the river, justify our holding by the left, instead of 
 our intended route." 
 
 " As you will, my good seignior," replied the 
 Bohemian "I am, for my part, equally ready to 
 guide you down the left as down the right side of 
 the Maes Your excuse to your master you must 
 make out for yourself." 
 
 Quentin, although rather surprised, was at the 
 same time pleased with the ready, or at least the 
 unrepugnant acquiescence of Hayraddin in their 
 change of route, for he needed his assistance as a 
 guide, and yet had feared that the disconcerting of 
 his intended act of treachery would have driven 
 him to extremity. Besides, to expel the Bohemian 
 from their society, would have been the ready mode 
 to bring down William de la Marck, with whom he 
 was in correspondence, upon their intended route ; 
 whereas if Hayraddin remained with them, Quentin 
 thought he could manage to prevent the Moor from 
 having any communication with strangers, unless 
 he was himself aware of it. 
 
 Abandoning, therefore, all thoughts of their orig- 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 13 
 
 inal route, the little party followed that by the left 
 bank of the broad Maes, so speedily and success- 
 fully, that the next day early brought them to the 
 purposed end of their journey. They found that 
 the Bishop of Liege, for the sake of his health, as 
 he himself alleged, but rather, perhaps, to avoid 
 being surprised by the numerous and mutinous 
 population of the city, had established his residence 
 in his beautiful Castle of Schonwaldt, about a mile 
 without Liege. 
 
 Just as they approached the Castle, they saw the 
 Prelate returning in long procession from the neigh- 
 bouring city, in which he had been officiating at the 
 performance of High Mass. He was at the head 
 of a splendid train of religious, civil, and military 
 men, mingled together, or, as the old ballad-maker 
 expresses it, 
 
 " With many a cross-bearer before, 
 And many a spear behind." 
 
 The procession made a noble appearance, as, wind- 
 ing along the verdant banks of the broad Maes, it 
 wheeled into, and was as it were devoured by, the 
 huge Gothic portal of the Episcopal residence. 
 
 But when the party came more near, they found 
 that circumstances around the Castle argued a doubt 
 and sense of insecurity, which contradicted that dis- 
 play of pomp and power which they had just wit- 
 nessed. Strong guards of the Bishop's soldiers were 
 needfully maintained all around the mansion and 
 its immediate vicinity ; and the prevailing appear- 
 ances in an ecclesiastical residence, seemed to argue 
 a sense of danger in the reverend Prelate, who found 
 it necessary thus to surround himself with all the 
 defensive precautions of war. The ladies of Croye, 
 
14 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 when announced by Quentin, were reverently ush- 
 ered into the great Hall, where they met with the 
 most cordial reception from the Bishop, who met 
 them there at the head of his little Court. He 
 would not permit them to kiss his hand, but wel- 
 comed them with a salute, which had something in 
 it of gallantry on the part of a prince to fine women., 
 and something also of the holy affection of a pas to j 
 to the sisters of his flock. 
 
 Louis of Bourbon, the reigning Bishop of Liege 
 was in truth a generous and kind-hearted prince ; 
 whose life had not indeed been always confined, 
 with precise strictness, within the bounds of his 
 clerical profession ; but who, notwithstanding, had 
 uniformly maintained the frank and honourable 
 character of the House of Bourbon, from which he 
 was descended. 
 
 In later times, as age advanced, the Prelate had 
 adopted habits more beseeming a member of the 
 hierarchy than his early reign had exhibited, and 
 was loved among the neighbouring princes, as a 
 noble ecclesiastic, generous and magnificent in his 
 ordinary mode of life, though preserving no very 
 ascetic severity of character, and governing with 
 an easy indifference, which, amid his wealthy and 
 mutinous subjects, rather encouraged than subdued 
 rebellious purposes. 
 
 The Bishop was so fast an ally of the Duke of 
 Burgundy, that the latter claimed almost a joint 
 sovereignty in his bishopric, and repaid the good- 
 natured ease with which the Prelate admitted claims 
 which he might easily have disputed, by taking his 
 part on all occasions, with the determined and 
 furious zeal which was a part of his character. He 
 used to say, he considered Liege as his own, the 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 15 
 
 Bishop as his brother, (indeed they might be ac- 
 counted such, in consequence of the Duke having 
 married for his first wife, the Bishop's sister,) and 
 that he who annoyed Louis of Bourbon, had to do 
 with Charles of Burgundy ; a threat which, con- 
 sidering the character and the power of the prince 
 who used it, would have been powerful with any 
 but the rich and discontented city of Liege, where 
 much wealth had. according to the ancient proverb, 
 made wit waver. 
 
 The Prelate, as we have said, assured the Ladies 
 of Croye of such intercession as his interest at the 
 Court of Burgundy, used to the uttermost, might 
 gain for them, and which, he hoped, might be the 
 more effectual, as Campo-Basso, from some late dis- 
 coveries, stood rather lower than formerly in the 
 Duke's personal favour. He promised them also 
 such protection as it was in his power to afford ; 
 but the sigh with which he gave the warrant, seemed 
 to allow that his power was more precarious than 
 in words he was willing to admit. 
 
 "At every event, my dearest daughters," said 
 the Bishop, with an air in which, as in his previous 
 salute, a mixture of spiritual unction qualified the 
 hereditary gallantry of the House of Bourbon, 
 " Heaven forbid I should abandon the lamb to the 
 wicked wolf, or noble ladies to the oppression of 
 faitours. I am a man of peace, though my abode 
 now rings with arms ; but be assured I will care 
 for your safety as for my own ; and should matters 
 become yet more distracted here, which, with our 
 Lady's grace, we trust will be rather pacified than 
 inflamed, we will provide for your safe-conduct to 
 Germany ; for not even the will of our brother and 
 protector, Charles of Burgundy, shall prevail with 
 
16 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 us to dispose of you in any respect contrary to your 
 own inclinations. We cannot comply with your 
 request of sending you to a convent ; for, alas ! such 
 is the influence of the sons of Belial among the 
 inhabitants of Liege, that we know no retreat to 
 which our authority extends, beyond the bounds of 
 our own castle, and the protection of our soldiery. 
 But here you are most welcome, and your train shall 
 have all honourable entertainment ; especially this 
 youth, whom you recommend so particularly to our 
 countenance, and on whom in especial we bestow 
 our blessing." 
 
 Quentin kneeled, as in duty bound, to receive 
 the Episcopal benediction. 
 
 " For yourselves," proceeded the good Prelate, 
 " you shall reside here with m y sister Isabelle, a. 
 Canoness of Triers, and with whom you may dwell 
 in all honour, even under the roof of so gay a 
 bachelor as the Bishop of Liege." 
 
 He gallantly conducted the ladies to his sister's 
 apartment, as he concluded the harangue of wel- 
 come ; and his Master of the Household, an officer, 
 who, having taken Deacon's orders, held something 
 between a secular and ecclesiastical character, en- 
 tertained Quentin with the hospitality which his 
 master enjoined, while the other personages of the 
 retinue of the Ladies of Croye were committed to 
 the inferior departments. 
 
 In this arrangement Quentin could not help re- 
 marking, that the presence of the Bohemian, so 
 much objected to in country convents, seemed, in 
 the household of this wealthy, and perhaps we 
 might say worldly prelate, to attract neither ob- 
 jection nor remark. 
 
CHAPTER IL 
 
 THE CITY. 
 
 Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up 
 To any sudden act of mutiny ! 
 
 Julius Ccesar. 
 
 Separated from the Lady Isabelle, whose looks 
 had been for so many days his load-star, Quentin 
 felt a strange vacancy and dullness of the heart, 
 which he had not yet experienced in any of the 
 vicissitudes to which his life had subjected him. 
 No doubt the cessation of the close and unavoid- 
 able intercourse and intimacy betwixt them was 
 the necessary consequence of the Countess having 
 obtained a place of settled residence ; for, under 
 what pretext could she, had she meditated such an 
 impropriety, have had a gallant young squire, such 
 as Quentin, in constant attendance upon her ? 
 
 But the shock of the separation was not the more 
 welcome that it seemed unavoidable, and the proud 
 heart of Quentin swelled at finding he was parted 
 with like an ordinary postilion, or an escort whose 
 duty is discharged ; while his eyes sympathized so 
 far as to drop a secret tear or two over the ruins 
 of all those airy castles, so many of which he had 
 employed himself in constructing during their too 
 interesting journey. He made a manly, but, at first* 
 a vain effort, to throw off this mental dejection ; and 
 
 VOL. II. 2 
 
18 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 so, yielding to the feelings he could not suppress, 
 he sat him down in one of the deep recesses formed 
 hy a window which lighted the great Gothic hall 
 of Schonwaldt, and there mused upon his hard 
 fortune, which had not assigned him rank or wealth 
 sufficient to prosecute his daring suit. 
 
 Quentin tried to dispel the sadness which over- 
 hung him by dispatching Charlet, one of the valets, 
 with letters to the court of Louis, announcing the 
 arrival of the Ladies of Croye at Liege. At length 
 his natural buoyancy of temper returned, much 
 excited by the title of an old romaunt which had 
 been just printed at Strasbourg, and which lay 
 beside him in the window, the title of which set 
 forth, 
 
 How the Squire of lowe degree, 
 
 Loved the King's daughter of Hongarie. 
 
 While he was tracing the " letters blake " of the 
 ditty so congenial to his own situation, Quentin 
 was interrupted by a touch on the shoulder, and, 
 looking up, beheld the Bohemian standing by him. 
 
 Hayraddin, never a welcome sight, was odious 
 from his late treachery, and Quentin sternly asked 
 him, why he dared take the freedom to touch a 
 Christian and a gentleman ? 
 
 " Simply," answered the Bohemian, " because 
 I wished to know if the Christian gentleman had 
 lost his feeling as well as his eyes and ears. I have 
 stood speaking to you these five minutes, and you 
 have stared on that scrap of yellow paper, as if it 
 were a spell to turn you into a statue, and had al- 
 ready wrought half its purpose." 
 
 "Well, what dost thou want? Speak, and 
 begone ! " 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 19 
 
 " I want what all men want, though few are sat- 
 isfied with it," said Hayraddin ; "I want my due ; my 
 ten crowns of gold for guiding the ladies hither." 
 
 " With what face dares t thou ask any guerdon be- 
 yond my sparing thy worthless life ? " said Durward, 
 fiercely ; " thou knowest that it was thy purpose to 
 have betrayed them on the road." 
 
 "But I did not betray them," said Hayraddin; 
 " if I had, I would have asked no guerdon from you 
 or from them, but from him whom their keeping 
 upon the right-hand side of the river might have 
 benefited. The party that I have served is the 
 party who must pay me." 
 
 "Thy guerdon perish with thee, then, traitor!" 
 said Quentin, telling out the money. "Get thee 
 to the Boar of Ardennes, or to the devil ! but keep 
 hereafter out of my sight, lest I send thee thither 
 before thy time." 
 
 " The Boar of Ardennes ! " repeated the Bohemian, 
 with a stronger emotion of surprise than his features 
 usually expressed ; " it was then no vague guess 
 no general suspicion which made you insist on 
 changing the road ? Can it be are there really 
 in other lands arts of prophecy more sure than those 
 of our wandering tribes ? The willow-tree under 
 which we spoke could tell no tales. But no no 
 
 no Dolt that I was ! I have it I have it ! 
 
 The willow by the brook near yonder convent 
 I saw you look towards it as you passed it, about 
 half a mile from yon hive of drones that could 
 not indeed speak, but it might hide one who could 
 hear ! I will hold my councils in an open plain 
 henceforth ; not a bunch of thistles shall be near 
 me for a Scot to shroud amongst Ha ! ha ! the 
 Scot hath beat the Zingaro at his own subtle 
 
20 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 weapons. But know, Quentin Durward, that you 
 have foiled me to the marring of thine own fortune 
 Yes ! the fortune I told thee of, from the lines 
 on thy hand, had been richly accomplished but for 
 thine own obstinacy." 
 
 "By Saint Andrew," said Quentin, "thy impu- 
 dence makes me laugh in spite of myself How, 
 or in what, should thy successful villainy have been 
 of service to me ? I heard, indeed, that you did 
 stipulate to save my life, which condition your 
 worthy allies would speedily have forgotten, had 
 we once come to blows but in what thy betrayal 
 of these ladies could have served me, but by expos- 
 ing me to death or captivity, is a matter beyond 
 human brains to conjecture." 
 
 " No matter thinking of it, then," said Hayraddin, 
 " for I mean still to surprise you with my gratitude. 
 Had you kept back my hire, I should have held that 
 we were quit, and had left you to your own foolish 
 guidance. As it is, I remain your debtor for yonder 
 matter on the banks of the Cher." 
 
 " Methinks I have already taken out the payment 
 in cursing and abusing thee," said Quentin. 
 
 "Hard words, or kind ones," said the Zingaro, 
 "are but wind, which make no weight in the 
 balance. Had you struck me, indeed, instead of 
 threatening " 
 
 " I am likely enough to take out payment in that 
 way, if you provoke me longer." 
 
 " I would not advise it," said the Zingaro ; " such 
 payment, made by a rash hand, might exceed the 
 debt, and unhappily leave a balance on your side, 
 which I am not one to forget or forgive. And now 
 farewell, but not for a long space I go to bid adieu 
 to the Ladies of Croye." 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 21 
 
 "Thou?" said Quentin in astonishment "thou 
 be admitted to the presence of the ladies, and here, 
 where they are in a manner recluses under the pro- 
 tection of the Bishop's sister, a noble canoness ? It 
 is impossible." 
 
 " Marthon, however, waits to conduct me to their 
 presence," said the Zingaro, with a sneer ; " and I 
 must pray your forgiveness if I leave you something 
 abruptly." 
 
 He turned as if to depart, but instantly coming 
 back, said, with a tone of deep and serious emphasis, 
 " I know your hopes they are daring, yet not vain 
 if I aid them. I know your fears they should teach 
 prudence, not timidity. Every woman may be won. 
 A count is but a nickname, which will befit Quentin 
 as well as the other nickname of duke befits Charles, 
 or that of king befits Louis." 
 
 Ere Durward could reply, the Bohemian had left 
 the hall. Quentin instantly followed; but, better 
 acquainted than the Scot with the passages of the 
 house, Hayraddin kept the advantage which he had 
 gotten ; and the pursuer lost sight of him as he 
 descended a small back staircase. Still Durward 
 followed, though without exact consciousness of his 
 own purpose in doing so. The staircase terminated 
 by a door opening into the alley of a garden, in 
 which he again beheld the Zingaro hastening down 
 a pleached walk. 
 
 On two sides, the garden was surrounded by the 
 buildings of the castle a huge old pile, partly 
 castellated, and partly resembling an ecclesiastical 
 building ; on the other two sides, the enclosure was 
 a high embattled wall. Crossing the alleys of the 
 garden to another part of the building, where a 
 postern-door opened behind a large massive buttress 
 
22 'QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 overgrown with ivy, Hayraddin looked back, and 
 waved his hand in signal of an exulting farewell to 
 his follower, who saw that in effect the postern-door 
 was opened by Marthon, and that the vile Bohemian 
 was admitted into the precincts, as he naturally con- 
 cluded, of the apartment of the Countesses of Croye. 
 Quentin bit his lips with indignation, and blamed 
 himself severely that he had not made the ladies 
 sensible of the full infamy of Hayraddin's character, 
 and acquainted with his machinations against their 
 safety. The arrogating manner in which the Bohe- 
 mian had promised to back his suit, added to his 
 anger and his disgust ; and he felt as if even the hand 
 of the Countess Isabelle would be profaned, were it 
 possible to attain it by such patronage. " But it 
 is all a deception," he said "a turn of his base 
 juggling artifice. He has procured access to these 
 ladies upon some false pretence, and with some mis- 
 chievous intention. It is well I have learned where 
 they lodge. I will watch Marthon, and solicit an 
 interview with them, were it but to place them on 
 their guard. It is hard that I must use artifice and 
 brook delay, when such as he have admittance openly 
 and without scruple. They shall find, however, that 
 though I am excluded from their presence, Isabelle's 
 safety is still the chief subject of my vigilance." 
 
 While the young lover was thus meditating, an 
 aged gentleman of the Bishop's household ap- 
 proached him from the same door by which he had 
 himself entered the garden, and made him aware, 
 though with the greatest civility of manner, that the 
 garden was private, and reserved only for the use 
 of the Bishop, and guests of the very highest 
 distinction. 
 
 Quentin heard him repeat this information twice 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 23 
 
 ere he put the proper construction upon it ; and 
 then starting as from a reverie, he bowed and hur- 
 ried out of the garden, the official person following 
 him all the way, and overwhelming him with formal 
 apologies for the necessary discharge of his duty. 
 Nay, so pertinacious was he in his attempts to re* 
 move the offence which he conceived Durward to 
 have taken, that he offered to bestow his own com- 
 pany upon him, to contribute to his entertainment ; 
 until Quentin, internally cursing his formal foppery, 
 found no better way of escape, than pretending a 
 desire of visiting the neighbouring city, and setting 
 oft thither at such a round pace as speedily subdued 
 all desire in the gentle man -usher to accompany him 
 farther than the drawbridge. In a few minutes, 
 Quentin was within the walls of the city of Liege, 
 then one of the richest in Flanders, and of course 
 in the world. 
 
 Melancholy, even love-melancholy, is not so 
 deeply seated, at least in minds of a manly and 
 elastic character, as the soft enthusiasts who surfer 
 under it are fond of believing. It yields to unex- 
 pected and striking impressions upon the senses, to 
 change of place, to such scenes as create new trains 
 of association, and to the influence of the busy hum 
 of mankind. In a few minutes, Quen tin's attention 
 was as much engrossed by the variety of objects 
 presented in rapid succession by the busy streets 
 of Liege, as if there had neither been a Countess 
 Isabelle, nor a Bohemian, in the world. 
 
 The lofty houses, the stately, though narrow 
 and gloomy streets, the splendid display of the 
 richest goods and most gorgeous armour in the 
 warehouses and shops around, the walks crowded 
 by busy citizens of every description, passing and 
 
24 QUENTIN DURWAKD.' 
 
 repassing with faces of careful importance or eager 
 bustle, the huge wains, which transported to and 
 fro the subjects of export and import, the former 
 consisting of broad cloths and serge, arms of all 
 kinds, nails and iron work, while the latter com- 
 prehended every article of use or luxury, intended 
 either for the consumption of an opulent city, or 
 received in barter, and destined to be transported 
 elsewhere, all these objects combined to form an 
 engrossing picture of wealth, bustle, and splendour, 
 to which Quentin had been hitherto a stranger. He 
 admired also the various streams and canals, drawn 
 from and communicating with the Maes, which, 
 traversing the city in various directions, offered to 
 every quarter the commercial facilities of water- 
 carriage, and he failed not to hear a mass in the 
 venerable old Church of Saint Lambert, said to 
 have been founded in the eighth century. 
 
 It was upon leaving this place of worship that 
 Quentin began to observe, that he, who had been 
 hitherto gazing on all around him with the eager- 
 ness of unrestrained curiosity, was himself the object 
 of attention to several groups of substantial looking 
 burghers, who seemed assembled to look upon him 
 as he left the church, and amongst whom arose a 
 buzz and whisper, which spread from one party to 
 another; while the number of gazers continued to 
 augment rapidly, and the eyes of each who added 
 to it were eagerly directed to Quentin, with a 
 stare which expressed much interest and curiosity, 
 mingled with a certain degree of respect. 
 
 At length he now formed the centre of a con- 
 siderable crowd, which yet yielded before him while 
 he continued to move forward; while those who 
 followed or kept pace with him, studiously avoided 
 
QUENTIN DURWAE-D 25 
 
 pressing on him, or impeding his motions. Yet his 
 situation was too embarrassing to be long endured, 
 without making some attempt to extricate himself, 
 and to obtain some explanation. 
 
 Quentin looked around him, and fixing upon a 
 jolly, stout-made, respectable man, whom, by his 
 velvet cloak and gold chain, he concluded to be a 
 burgher of eminence, and perhaps a magistrate, he 
 asked him, " Whether he saw any thing particular 
 in his appearance, to attract public attention in a 
 degree so unusual ? or whether it was the ordinary 
 custom of the people of Liege thus to throng around 
 strangers who chanced to visit their city ? " 
 
 "Surely not, good seignior," answered the 
 burgher ; " the Liegeois are neither so idly curious 
 as to practise such a custom, nor is there any thing 
 in your dress or appearance, saving that which is 
 most welcome to this city, and which our townsmen 
 are both delighted to see, and desirous to honour." 
 
 " This sounds very polite, worthy sir," said 
 Quentin ; " but by the Cross of Saint Andrew, I 
 cannot even guess at your meaning." 
 
 "Your oath, sir," answered the merchant of 
 Liege, " as well as your accent, convinces me that 
 we are right in our conjecture." 
 
 " By my patron Saint Quentin 1 " said Durward, 
 " I am farther off from your meaning than ever." 
 
 "There again now," rejoined the Liegeois, look- 
 ing, as he spoke, most provokingly, yet most civilly, 
 politic and intelligent. " It is surely not for us 
 to see that which you, worthy seignior, deem it 
 proper to conceal. But why swear by Saint Quentin, 
 if you would not have me construe your meaning ? 
 We know the good Count of Saint Paul, who 
 lies there at present, wishes well to our cause." 
 
26 QUENTIN DUKWARD. 
 
 " On my life," said Quentin, " you are undei 
 some delusion I know nothing of Saint Paul." 
 
 " Nay, we question you not," said the burgher ; 
 * although, hark ye I say, hark in your ear my 
 name is Pavilion." 
 
 " And what is my business with that, Seignior 
 Pavilion ? " said Quentin. 
 
 " Nay, nothing only methinks it might satisfy 
 you that I am trustworthy Here is my colleague 
 Rouslaer, too." 
 
 Rouslaer advanced, a corpulent dignitary, whose 
 fair round belly, like a battering-ram, "did shake 
 the press before him," and who, whispering caution 
 to his neighbour, said, in a tone of rebuke " You 
 forget, good colleague, the place is too open the 
 seignior will retire to your house or mine, and drink 
 a glass of Rhenish and sugar, and then we shall 
 hear more of our good friend and ally, whom we 
 love with all our honest Flemish hearts." 
 
 " I have no news for any of you," said Quentin, 
 impatiently ; " I will drink no Rhenish ; and I only 
 desire of you, as men of account and respectability, 
 to disperse this idle crowd, and allow a stranger to 
 leave your town as quietly as he came into it." 
 
 " Nay, then, sir," said Rouslaer, " since you stand 
 so much on your incognito, and with us, too, who 
 are men of confidence, let me ask you roundly, 
 wherefore wear you the badge of your company if 
 you would remain unknown in Liege ? " 
 
 " What badge, and what order ? " said Quentin ; 
 " you look like reverend men and grave citizens, 
 yet, on my soul, you are either mad yourselves, or 
 desire to drive me so." 
 
 " Sapperment I " said the other burgher, " this 
 youth would make Saint Lambert swear' Why ; . 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 27 
 
 who wear bonnets with the Saint Andrew's cross 
 and fleur-de-lys, save the Scottish Archers of King 
 Louis's Guards ? " 
 
 " And supposing I am an Archer of the Scottish 
 Guard, why should you make a wonder of my 
 wearing the badge of my company ? " said Quentin, 
 impatiently. 
 
 " He has avowed it, he has avowed it ! " said 
 Kouslaer and Pavilion, turning to the assembled 
 burghers in attitudes of congratulation, with wav- 
 ing arms, extended palms, and large round faces 
 radiating with glee. " He hath avowed himself an 
 Archer of Louis's Guard of Louis, the guardian 
 of the liberties of Liege ! " 
 
 A general shout and cry now arose from the mul- 
 titude, in which were mingled the various sounds of 
 " Long live Louis of France ! Long live the Scot- 
 tish Guard ! Long live the valiant Archer ! Our 
 liberties, our privileges, or death ! No imposts ! 
 Long live the valiant Boar of Ardennes ! Down 
 with Charles of Burgundy ! and confusion to Bour- 
 bon and his bishopric ! " 
 
 Half-stunned by the noise, which began anew in 
 one quarter so soon as it ceased in another, rising 
 and falling like the billows of the sea, and aug- 
 mented by thousands of voices which roared in 
 chorus from distant streets and market-places, 
 Quentin had yet time to form a conjecture con- 
 cerning the meaning of the tumult, and a plan for 
 regulating his own conduct. 
 
 He had forgotten that, after his skirmish with 
 Orleans and Dunois, one of his comrades had, at 
 Lord Crawford's ccmmand, replaced the morion, 
 cloven by the sword of the latter, with one of the 
 steel-lined bonnets, which formed a part of the 
 
28 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 proper and well-known equipment of the Scotch 
 Guards. That an individual of this body, which 
 was always kept very close to Louis's person, should 
 have appeared in the streets of a city, whose civil 
 discontents had been aggravated by the agents of 
 that King, was naturally enough interpreted by the 
 burghers of Liege into a determination on the part 
 of Louis openly to assist their cause ; and the appa- 
 rition of an individual archer was magnified into a 
 pledge of immediate and active support from Louis 
 nay, into an assurance that his auxiliary forces 
 were actually entering the town at one or other, 
 though no one could distinctly tell which, of the 
 city-gates. 
 
 To remove a conviction so generally adopted, 
 Quentin easily saw was impossible nay, that any 
 attempt to undeceive men so obstinately prepos- 
 sessed in their belief, would be attended with per- 
 sonal risk, which, in this case, he saw little use of 
 incurring. He therefore hastily resolved to tem- 
 porize, and to get free the best way he could ; and 
 this resolution he formed while they were in the 
 act of conducting him to the Stadthouse, where the 
 notables of the town were fast assembling, in order 
 to hear the tidings which he was presumed to have 
 brought, and to regale him with a splendid banquet. 
 
 In spite of all his opposition, which was set down 
 to modesty, he was on every side surrounded by the 
 donors of popularity, the unsavoury tide of which 
 now floated around him. His two burgomaster 
 friends, who were Schoppen, or Syndics of the city, 
 had made fast both his arms. Before him, Nikkei 
 Blok, the chief of the butcher's incorporation, has- 
 tily summoned from his office in the shambles, bran- 
 dished his death-doing axe, yet smeared with blood 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 29 
 
 and brains, with a courage and grace which brant- 
 wein alone could inspire. Behind him came the 
 tall, lean, raw-boned, very drunk, and very patri- 
 otic figure of Claus Hammerlein, president of the 
 mystery of the workers in iron, and followed by at 
 least a thousand unwashed artificers of his class. 
 Weavers, nailers, ropemakers, artisans of every de- 
 gree and calling, thronged forward to join the 
 procession from every gloomy and narrow street. 
 Escape seemed a desperate and impossible adventure. 
 
 In this dilemma, Quentin appealed to Eouslaer, 
 who held one arm, and to Pavilion, who had secured 
 the other, and who were conducting him forward 
 at the head of the ovation, of which he had so unex- 
 pectedly become the principal object. He hastily 
 acquainted them " with his having thoughtlessly 
 adopted the bonnet of the Scottish Guard, on an 
 accident having occurred to the head-piece in which 
 he had proposed to travel ; he regretted that, owing 
 to this circumstance, and the sharp wit with which 
 the Liegeois drew the natural inference of his qual- 
 ity and the purpose of his visit, these things had 
 been publicly discovered ; and he intimated, that, 
 if just now conducted to the Stadthouse, he might 
 unhappily feel himself under the necessity of com- 
 municating to the assembled notables certain mat- 
 ters, which he was directed by the King to reserve 
 for the private ears of his excellent gossips, Mein- 
 heers Eouslaer and Pavilion of Liege." 
 
 This last hint operated like magic on the two 
 citizens, who were the most distinguished leaders of 
 the insurgent burghers, and were, like all dema- 
 gogues of their kind, desirous to keep every thing 
 within their own management, so far as possible 
 They therefore hastily agreed that Quentin should 
 
30 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 leave the town for the time, and return by night to 
 Liege, and converse with them privately in the 
 house of Eouslaer, near the gate opposite to Schon- 
 waldt. Quentin hesitated not to tell them, that he 
 was at present residing in the Bishop's palace, un- 
 der pretence of bearing dispatches from the French 
 Court, although his real errand was, as they had 
 well conjectured, designed to the citizens of Liege ; 
 and this tortuous mode of conducting a communi- 
 cation, as well as the character and rank of the per- 
 son to whom it was supposed to be intrusted, was 
 so consonant to the character of Louis, as neither to 
 excite doubt nor surprise. 
 
 Almost immediately after this eclaircissem,ent was 
 completed, the progress of the multitude brought 
 them opposite to the door of Pavilion's house, in 
 one of the principal streets, but which communi- 
 cated from behind with the Maes, by means of a 
 garden, as well as an extensive manufactory of tan- 
 pits and other conveniences for dressing hides ; for 
 the patriotic burgher was a felt-dresser, or currier. 
 
 It was natural that Pavilion should desire to do 
 the honours of his dwelling to the supposed envoy 
 of Louis, and a halt before his house excited no 
 surprise on the part of the multitude ; who, on the 
 contrary, greeted Meinheer Pavilion with a loud 
 vivat, as he ushered in his distinguished guest. 
 Quentin speedily laid aside his remarkable bonnet, 
 for the cap of a felt-maker, and flung a cloak over 
 his other apparel. Pavilion then furnished him 
 with a passport to pass the gates of the city, and to 
 return by night or day as should suit his conve- 
 nience ; and, lastly, committed him to the charge of 
 his daughter, a fair and smiling Flemish lass, with 
 instructions how he was to be disposed of, while he 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 31 
 
 himself hastened back to his colleague, to amuse 
 their friends at the Stadthouse, with the best ex- 
 cuses which they could invent for the disappearance 
 of King Louis's envoy. We cannot, as the footman 
 says in the play, recollect the exact nature of the 
 lie which the belwethers told the flock ; but no task 
 is so easy as that of imposing upon a multitude 
 whose eager prejudices have more than half done 
 the business, ere the impostor has spoken a word. 
 
 The Worthy burgess was no sooner gone, than his 
 plump daughter, Trudchen, with many a blush, and 
 many a wreathed smile, which suited very prettily 
 with lips like cherries, laughing blue eyes, and a 
 skin transparently pure, escorted the handsome 
 stranger through the pleached alleys of the Sieur 
 Pavilion's garden, down to the water-side, and there 
 saw him fairly embarked in a boat, which two stout 
 Flemings, in their trunk-hose, fur caps, and many- 
 buttoned jerkins, had got in readiness with as much 
 haste as their low-country nature would permit. 
 
 As the pretty Trudchen spoke nothing but Ger- 
 man, Quentin, no disparagement to his loyal 
 affection to the Countess of Croye, could only 
 express his thanks by a kiss on those same cherry 
 lips, which was very gallantly bestowed, and ac- 
 cepted with all modest gratitude ; for gallants with 
 a form and face like our Scottish Archer, were not 
 of every-day occurrence among the bourgeoisie of 
 Liege. 1 
 
 1 The adventure of Quentin at Liege may be thought over- 
 strained, yet it is extraordinary what slight circumstances will 
 influence the public mind in a moment of doubt and uncertainty. 
 Most readers must remember, that, when the Dutch were on the 
 point of rising against the French yoke, their zeal for liberation 
 received a strong impulse from the landing of a person in a Brit 
 ish volunteer-uniform, whose presence, though that of a private 
 individual, was received as a guarantee of succours from England 
 
32 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 While the boat was rowed up the sluggish wa 
 ters of the Maes, and passed the defences of the 
 town, Quentin had time enough to reflect what 
 account he ought to give of his adventure in 
 Liege, when he returned to the Bishop's palace 
 of Schonwaldt ; and disdaining alike to betray 
 any person who had reposed confidence in him, 
 although by misapprehension, or to conceal from 
 the hospitable Prelate the mutinous state of his 
 capital, he resolved to confine himself to so gen- 
 eral an account as might put the Bishop upon his 
 guard, while it should point out no individual to 
 his vengeance. 
 
 He was landed from the boat, within half a mile 
 of the castle, and rewarded his rowers with a guil- 
 der, to their great satisfaction. Yet, short as was 
 the space which divided him from Schonwaldt, the 
 castle-bell had tolled for dinner, and Quentin found, 
 moreover, that he had approached the castle on a 
 different side from that of the principal entrance, 
 and that to go round would throw his arrival consi- 
 derably later. He, therefore, made straight towards 
 the side that was nearest him, as he discerned that 
 it presented an embattled wall, probably that of 
 the little garden already noticed, with a postern 
 opening upon the moat, and a skiff moored by the 
 postern, which might serve, he thought, upon sum- 
 mons, to pass him over. As $ he approached, in 
 hopes to make his entrance this way, the postern 
 opened, a man came out, and, jumping into the 
 boat, made his way to the farther side of the moat, 
 and then with a long pole, pushed the skiff back 
 towards the place where he had embarked. As he 
 came near, Quentin discerned that this person was 
 the Bohemian, who, avoiding him, as was not dim- 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 33 
 
 cult, held a different path towards Liege, and was 
 presently out of his ken. 
 
 Here was new subject for meditation. Had this 
 vagabond heathen been all this while with the 
 Ladies of Croye, and for what purpose should they 
 so far have graced him with their presence ? Tor- 
 mented with this thought, Durward became doubly 
 determined to seek an explanation with them, for 
 the purpose at once of laying bare the treachery of 
 Hayraddin, and announcing to them the perilous 
 state in which their protector, the Bishop, was 
 placed, by the mutinous state of his town of Liege. 
 
 As Quentin thus resolved, he entered the castle 
 by the principal gate, and found that part of the 
 family who assembled for dinner in the great hall, 
 including the Bishop's attendant clergy, officers of 
 the household, and strangers below the rank of 
 the very first nobility, were already placed at their 
 meal. A seat at the upper end of the board, had, 
 however, been reserved beside the Bishop's do- 
 mestic chaplain, who welcomed the stranger with 
 the old college jest of, Sero venientibus ossa, while 
 he took care so to load his plate with dainties, as 
 to take away all appearance of that tendency to 
 reality, which, in Quentin's country, is said to 
 render a joke either no joke, or at best an un- 
 palatable one. 1 
 
 In vindicating liimself from the suspicion of 
 ill-breeding, Quentin briefly described the tumult 
 which had been occasioned in the city by his being 
 discovered to belong to the Scottish Archer-guard 
 of Louis, and endeavoured to give a ludicrous turn 
 to the narrative by saying, that he had been with 
 
 1 f A sooth boord [true joke] is no boord," says the Scot. 
 vol. 11. 3 
 
34 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 difficulty extricated by a fat burgher of Liege and 
 his pretty daughter. 
 
 But the company were too much interested in 
 the story to taste the jest. All operations of the 
 table were suspended while Quentin told his tale; 
 and when he had ceased, there was a solemn pause, 
 which was only broken by the Major-Domo saying, 
 in a low and. melancholy tone, "I would to God 
 that we saw those hundred lances of Burgundy ! " 
 
 " Why should you think so deeply on it ? " said 
 Quentin f You have many soldiers here, whose 
 trade is arms ; and your antagonists are only the 
 rabble of a disorderly city, who will fly before the 
 first flutter of a banner with men-at-arms arrayed 
 beneath it." 
 
 " You do not know the men of Liege," said the 
 Chaplain, " of whom it may be said, that, not even 
 excepting those of Ghent, they are at once the 
 fiercest and the most untamable in Europe. Twice 
 has the Duke of Burgundy chastised them for their 
 repeated revolts against their Bishop, and twice 
 hath he suppressed them with much severity, 
 abridged their privileges, taken away their banners, 
 and established rights and claims to himself, which 
 .were not before competent over a free city of the 
 Empire Nay, ' the last time he defeated them 
 with much slaughter near Saint Tron, where Liege 
 lost nearly six thousand men, what with the sword, 
 what with those drowned in the flight ; and, there- 
 after, to disable them from farther mutiny, Duke 
 Charles refused to enter at any of the gates which 
 they had surrendered, but, beating to the ground 
 forty cubits breadth of their city wall, marched 
 into Liege as a conqueror, with visor closed, and 
 lance in rest, at the head of his chivalry, by the 
 
QUENTTN DUR WARD. 3$ 
 
 breach which he had made. Nay, well were the 
 Liegeois then assured, that, but for the intercession 
 of his father, Duke Philip the Good, this Charles, 
 then called Count of Charalois, would have given 
 their town up to spoil. And yet, with all these 
 fresh recollections, with their breaches unrepaired, 
 and their arsenals scarcely supplied, the sight of 
 an Archer's bonnet is sufficient again to stir them 
 to uproar. May God amend all ! but I fear there 
 will be bloody work between so fierce a population 
 and so fiery a Sovereign ; and I would my excellent 
 and kind master had a see of lesser dignity and 
 more safety, for his mitre is lined with thorns 
 instead of ermine. This much I say to you, Seignior 
 stranger, to make you aware, that, if your affairs 
 detain you not at Schonwaldt, it is a place from 
 which each man of sense should depart as speedily 
 as possible. I apprehend that your ladies are of 
 the same opinion ; for one of the grooms who 
 attended them on the route, has been sent back by 
 them to the Court of France with letters, which, 
 doubtless, are intended to announce their going in 
 search of a safer asylum." 
 
CHAPTEE IIL 
 
 THE BILLET. 
 
 Go to thou art made, if thou desirest to be so If not, let 
 me see thee still the fellow of servants, and not fit to touch For- 
 tune's fingers. 
 
 Twetflh Night. 
 
 When the tables were drawn, the Chaplain, who 
 seemed to have taken a sort of attachment to 
 Quentin Durward's society, Or who perhaps desired 
 to extract from him farther information concern- 
 ing the meeting of the morning, led him into a 
 withdrawing apartment, the windows of which, on 
 one side, projected into the garden ; and as he saw 
 his companion's eye gaze rather eagerly upon the 
 spot, he proposed to Quentin to go down and take 
 a view of the curious foreign shrubs with which 
 the Bishop had enriched its parterres. 
 
 Quentin excused himself, as unwilling to intrude, 
 and therewithal communicated the check which he 
 had received in the morning. The Chaplain smiled, 
 and said, " That there was indeed some ancient pro- 
 hibition respecting the Bishop's private garden ; 
 but this," he added, with a smile, " was when our 
 reverend father was a princely young prelate of not 
 more than thirty years of age, and when many fair 
 ladies frequented the Castle for ghostly consolation. 
 Need there was," he said, with a downcast look, and 
 a smile, half simple and half intelligent, " that 
 
QUENTIN DURWARB. 37 
 
 these ladies, pained in conscience, who were ever 
 lodged in the apartments now occupied by the noble 
 Canoness, should have some space for taking the 
 air, secure from the intrusion of the profane. But 
 of late years," he added, " this prohibition, although 
 not formally removed, has fallen entirely out of 
 observance, and remains but as the superstition 
 which lingers in the brain of a superannuated gen- 
 tleman-usher. If you please," he added, " we will 
 presently descend, and try whether the place be 
 haunted or no." 
 
 Nothing could have been more agreeable to Quen- 
 tin than the prospect of a free entrance into the 
 garden, through means of which, according to a 
 chance which had hitherto attended his passion, he 
 hoped to communicate with, or at least obtain sight 
 of, the object of his affections, from some such turret 
 or balcony-window, or similar " coign of vantage," 
 as at the hostelry of the Fleur-de-Lys, near Plessis, 
 or the Dauphin's Tower, within that Castle itself. 
 Isabelle seemed still destined, wherever she made 
 her abode, to be the Lady of the Turret. 
 
 When Durward descended with his new friend 
 into the garden, the latter seemed a terrestrial phi- 
 losopher, entirely busied with the things of the 
 earth ; while the eyes of Quentin, if they did not 
 seek the heavens, like those of an astrologer, ranged 
 at least all around the windows, balconies, and espe- 
 cially the turrets, which projected on every part 
 from the inner front of the old building, in order to 
 discover that which was to be his cynosure. 
 
 While thus employed, the young lover heard with 
 total neglect, if indeed he heard at all, the enume- 
 ration of plants, herbs, and shrubs, which . his reve- 
 rend conductor pointed out to him , of which this 
 
38 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 was choice, because of prime use in medicine , and 
 that more choice for yielding a rare flavour to pot- 
 tage ; and a third, choicest of all, because possessed 
 of no merit but its extreme scarcity. Still it was 
 necessary to preserve some semblance at least of 
 attention ; which the youth found so difficult, that 
 he fairly wished at the devil the officious naturalist 
 and the whole vegetable kingdom. He was relieved 
 at length by the striking of a clock, which sum- 
 moned the Chaplain to some official duty. 
 
 The reverend man made many unnecessary apo- 
 logies for leaving his new friend, and concluded by 
 giving him the agreeable assurance, that he might 
 walk in the garden till supper, without much risk 
 of being disturbed. 
 
 " It is," said he, " the place where I always study 
 my own homilies, as being most sequestered from 
 the resort of strangers. I am now about to deliver 
 one of them in the chapel, if you please to favour 
 me with your audience. I have been thought to 
 have some gift But the glory be where it is due ! " 
 
 Quentin excused himself for this evening, under 
 pretence of a severe headache, which the open air 
 was likely to prove the best cure for ; and at length 
 the well-meaning priest left him to himself. 
 
 It may be well imagined, that in the curious 
 inspection which he now made, at more leisure, of 
 every window or aperture which looked into the 
 garden, those did not escape which were in the 
 immediate neighbourhood of the small door by which 
 he had seen Marthon admit Hayraddin, as he 
 pretended, to the apartment of the Countesses. But 
 nothing stirred or showed itself, which could either 
 confute or confirm the tale which the Bohemian had 
 told, until it was becoming dusky ; and Quentin 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 39 
 
 began to be sensible, he scarce knew why, that his 
 sauntering so long in the garden might be subject 
 of displeasure or suspicion. 
 
 Just as he had resolved to depart, and was taking 
 what he had destined for his last turn under the 
 windows which had such attraction for him, he heard 
 above him a slight and cautious sound, like that of 
 a cough, as intended to call his attention, and to 
 avoid the observation of others. As he looked up in 
 joyful surprise, a casement opened a female hand 
 was seen to drop a billet, which fell into a rosemary 
 bush that grew at the foot of the wall. The pre- 
 caution used in dropping this letter, prescribed equal 
 prudence and secrecy in reading it. The garden, 
 surrounded, as we have said, upon two sides, by the 
 buildings of the palace, was commanded, of course, 
 by the windows of many apartments ; but there was 
 a sort of grotto of rock-work, which the Chaplain 
 had shown Durward with much complacency. To 
 snatch up the billet, thrust it into his bosom, and hie 
 to this place of secrecy, was the work of a single 
 minute. He there opened the precious scroll, and 
 blessed, at the same time, the memory of the Monks 
 of Aberbrothick, whose nurture had rendered him 
 capable of deciphering its contents. 
 
 The first line contained the injunction, " Kead 
 this in secret," and the contents were as follows: 
 
 "What your eyes have too boldly said, mine have 
 perhaps too rashly understood. But, unjust persecu- 
 tion makes it s victims bold, and it were better to throw 
 myself on tue gratitude of one, than to remain the 
 object of pursr : t to many. Fortune has her throne 
 upon a rock ; h t t brave men fear not to climb. If you 
 dare do aught for one that hazards much, you need but 
 pass into this garden at prime to-morrow, wearing in 
 
40 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 your cap ablue-and-white feather ; but expect no farther 
 communication. Your stars have, they say, destined 
 you for greatness, and disposed you to gratitude. 
 Farewell be faithful, prompt, and resolute, and doubt 
 not thy fortune." 
 
 "Within this letter was enclosed a ring with a table 
 diamond, on which were cut, in form of a lozenge, 
 the ancient arms of the House of Croye. 
 
 The first feeling of Quentin upon this occasion 
 was unmingled ecstasy a pride and joy which 
 seemed to raise him to the stars, a determination 
 to do or die, influenced by which he treated with 
 scorn the thousand obstacles that placed themselves 
 betwixt him and the goal of his wishes. 
 
 In this mood of rapture, and unable to endure 
 any interruption which might withdraw his mind, 
 were it but for a moment, from so ecstatic a subject 
 of contemplation, Durward, retiring to the interior 
 of the castle, hastily assigned his former pretext of 
 a headache for not joining the household of the 
 Bishop at the supper-meal, and, lighting his lamp, 
 betook himself to the chamber which had been 
 assigned him, to read, and to read again and again, 
 the precious billet, and to kiss a thousand times the 
 no less precious ring. 
 
 But such high-wrought feelings could not remain 
 long in the same ecstatic tone. A thought pressed 
 upon him, though he repelled it as ungrateful as 
 even blasphemous that the frankness of the con- 
 fession implied less delicacy, on the part of her who 
 made it, than was consistent with the high romantic 
 feeling of adoration with which he had hitherto 
 worshipped the Lady Isabelle. No sooner did this 
 ungracious thought intrude itself, than he hastened 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 41 
 
 fco stifle it, as he would have stifled a hissing and 
 hateful adder, that had intruded itself into his 
 couch. Was it for him him the Favoured on 
 whose account she had stooped from her sphere, to 
 ascribe blame to her for the very act of condescen- 
 sion, without which he dared not have raised his 
 eyes towards her? Did not her very dignity of 
 birth and of condition, reverse, in her case, the 
 usual rules which impose silence on the lady until 
 her lover shall have first spoken ? To these argu- 
 ments, which he boldly formed into syllogisms, and 
 avowed to himself, his vanity might possibly suggest 
 one which he cared not to embody even mentally 
 with the same frankness that the merit of the 
 party beloved might perhaps warrant, on the part 
 of the lady, some little departure from common 
 rules ; and, after all, as in the case of Malvolio, 
 there was example for it in chronicle. The Squire 
 of low degree, of whom he had just been reading, 
 was, like himself, a gentleman void of land and 
 living, and yet the generous Princess of Hungary 
 bestowed on him, without scruple, more substantial 
 marks of her affection, than the billet he had just 
 received : 
 
 " Welcome," she said, " my swete Squyre, 
 My heartis roote, my soule's desire ; 
 I will give thee kisses three, 
 And als five hundrid poundis in fee." 
 
 And again the same faithful history made the 
 King of Hongrie himself avouch, 
 
 " I have yknown many a page 
 Come to be Prince by marriage." 
 
 So that, upon the whole, Quentin generously and 
 magnanimously reconciled himself to a line of con- 
 
42 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 duct on the Countess's part, by which he was likely 
 to be so highly benefited. 
 
 But this scruple was succeeded by another doubt, 
 harder of digestion. The traitor Hayraddin had 
 been in the apartments of the ladies, for aught 
 Quentin knew, for the space of four hours, and, 
 considering the hints which he had thrown out, of 
 possessing an influence of the most interesting kind 
 over the fortunes of Quentin Durward, what should 
 assure him that this train was not of his laying ? 
 and if so, was it not probable that such a dissem- 
 bling villain had set it on foot to conceal some new 
 plan of treachery perhaps to seduce Isabelle out 
 of the protection of the worthy Bishop ? This was 
 a matter to be closely looked into, for Quentin felt 
 a repugnance to this individual proportioned to the 
 unabashed impudence with which he had avowed 
 his profligacy, and could not bring himself to hope, 
 that any thing in which he was concerned could ever 
 come to an honourable or happy conclusion. 
 
 These various thoughts rolled over Quentin'a 
 mind like misty clouds, to dash and obscure the fair 
 landscape which his fancy had at first drawn, and 
 his couch was that night a sleepless one. At the 
 hour of prime ay, and an hour before it, was he 
 in the castle-garden, where no one now opposed 
 either his entrance or his abode, with a feather of 
 the assigned colour, as distinguished as he could by 
 any means procure in such haste. No notice was 
 taken of his appearance for nearly two hours; at 
 length he heard a few notes of the lute, and pre- 
 sently the lattice opened right above the little 
 postern-door at which Marthon had admitted Hay- 
 raddin, and Isabelle, in maidenly beauty, appeared 
 at the opening, greeted him half-kindly half-shyly, 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 43 
 
 coloured extremely at the deep and significant reve- 
 rence with which he returned her courtesy shut 
 the casement, and disappeared. 
 
 Daylight and champaign could discover no more ! 
 The authenticity of the billet was ascertained it 
 only remained what was to follow ; and of this the 
 fair writer had given him no hint. But no imme- 
 diate danger impended The Countess was in a 
 strong castle, under the protection of a Prince, at 
 once respectable for his secular, and venerable for 
 his ecclesiastical authority. There was neither 
 immediate room nor occasion for the exulting 
 Squire interfering in the adventure ; and it was 
 sufficient if he kept himself prompt to execute her 
 commands whenever they should be communicated 
 to him. But Fate purposed to call him into action 
 sooner than he was aware of. 
 
 It was the fourth night after his arrival at Schon- 
 waldt, when Quentin had taken measures for send- 
 ing back on the morrow, to the Court of Louis, the 
 remaining groom who had accompanied him on his 
 journey, with letters from himself to his uncle and 
 Lord Crawford, renouncing the service of France, 
 for which the treachery to which he had been 
 exposed by the private instructions of Hayraddin 
 gave him an excuse, both in honour and prudence ; 
 and he betook himself to his bed with all the rosy- 
 coloured ideas around him which flutter about the 
 couch of a youth when he loves dearly, and thinks 
 his love as sincerely repaid. 
 
 But Quentin's dreams, which at first partook of 
 the nature of those happy influences under which 
 he had fallen asleep, began by degrees to assume 
 a more terrific character. 
 
 He walked with the Countess Isabelle beside a 
 
44 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 smooth and inland lake, such as formed the prin- 
 cipal characteristic of his native glen ; and he spoke 
 to her of his love, without any consciousness of the 
 impediments which lay between them. She blushed 
 and smiled when she listened even as he might 
 have expected from the tenor of the letter, which, 
 sleeping or waking, lay nearest to his heart. But 
 the scene suddenly changed from summer to winter 
 from calm to tempest ; the winds and the waves 
 rose with such a contest of surge and whirlwind, as 
 if the demons of the water and of the air had been 
 contending for their roaring empires in rival strife. 
 The rising waters seemed to cut off their advance 
 and their retreat the increasing tempest, which 
 dasned them against each other, seemed to render 
 their remaining on the spot impossible ; and the 
 tumultuous sensations produced by the apparent 
 danger awoke the dreamer. 
 
 He awoke ; but although the circumstances of the 
 vision had disappeared, and given place to reality, 
 the noise, which had probably suggested them, still 
 continued to sound in his ears. 
 
 Quentin's first impulse was to sit erect in bed, and 
 listen with astonishment to sounds, which, if they 
 had announced a tempest, might have shamed the 
 wildest that ever burst down from the Grampians ; 
 and again in a minute he became sensible, that the 
 tumult was not excited by the fury of the elements, 
 but by the wrath of men. 
 
 He sprung from bed, and looked from the win- 
 dow of his apartment ; but it opened into the garden, 
 and on that side all was quiet, though the opening 
 of the casement made him still more sensible, from 
 ijhe shouts which reached his ears, that the outside 
 of the castle was beleaguered and assaulted, and that 
 
QTJENTIN DURWARD. 45 
 
 by a numerous and determined enemy. Hastily 
 collecting his dress and arms, and putting them on 
 with such celerity as darkness and surprise permitted, 
 his attention was solicited by a knocking at the 
 door of his chamber. As Quentin did not immedi- 
 ately answer, the door, which was a slight one, was 
 forced open from without, and the intruder, an- 
 nounced by his peculiar dialect to be the Bohemian, 
 Hayraddin Maugrabin, entered the apartment. A 
 phial, which he held in his hand, touched by a match, 
 produced a dark flash of ruddy fire, by means of which 
 he kindled a lamp, which he took from his bosom. 
 
 "The horoscope of your destinies," he said 
 energetically to Durward, without any farther 
 greeting, "now turns upon the determination of 
 a minute." 
 
 " Caitiff ! " said Quentin, in reply, " there is 
 treachery around us ; and where there is treachery, 
 thou must have a share in it." 
 
 " You are mad," answered Maugrabin "I never 
 betrayed any one but to gain by it and where- 
 fore should I betray you, by whose safety I can 
 take more advantage than by your destruction ? 
 Hearken for a moment, if it be possible for you, to 
 one note of reason, ere it is sounded into your ear 
 by the death -shot of ruin. The Liegeois are up 
 William de la Marck with his band leads them 
 Were there means of resistance, their numbers, and 
 his fury, would overcome them ; but there are next 
 to none. If you would save the Countess and your 
 own hopes, follow me, in the name of her who sent 
 you a table-diamond, with three leopards engraved 
 on it!" 
 
 " Lead the way," said Quentin, hastily " In that 
 name I dare every danger ! " 
 
46 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 "As I shall manage it," said the Bohemiaa 
 " there is no danger, if you can but withhold your 
 hand from strife which does not concern you ; for, 
 after all, what is it to you whether the Bishop, as 
 they call him, slaughters his flock, or the flock 
 slaughters the shepherd ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! Follow 
 me, but with caution and patience ; subdue your 
 own courage, and confide in my prudence and 
 my debt of thankfulness is paid, and you have a 
 Countess for your spouse. Follow me." 
 
 " I follow," said Quentin, drawing his sword ; 
 " but the moment in which I detect the least sign 
 of treachery, thy head and body are three yards 
 separate ! " 
 
 Without more conversation, the Bohemian, see- 
 ing that Quentin was now fully armed and ready, 
 ran down the stairs before trim, and winded hastily 
 through various side-passages, until they gained 
 the little garden. Scarce a light was to be seen 
 on that side, scarce any bustle was to be heard ; 
 but no sooner had Quentin entered the open space, 
 than the noise on the opposite side of the castle 
 became ten times more stunningly audible, and he 
 could hear the various war-cries of " Liege ! Liege ! 
 Sanglier ! Sanglier ! " shouted by the assailants, 
 while the feebler cry of " Our Lady for the Prince 
 Bishop ! " was raised in a faint and faltering tone, 
 by those of the prelate's soldiers who had hastened, 
 though surprised and at disadvantage, to the defence 
 of the walls. 
 
 But the interest of the fight, notwithstanding 
 the martial character of Quentin Durward, was in- 
 different to him in comparison of the fate of Isabelle 
 of Croye, which, he had reason to fear, would be 
 a dreadful one, unless rescued from the power of 
 
QUENTIN DUftWARD. 47 
 
 the dissolute and cruel freebooter, who was now, 
 as it seemed, bursting the gates of the castle. He 
 reconciled himself to the aid of the Bohemian, as 
 men in a desperate illness refuse not the remedy 
 prescribed by quacks and mountebanks, and fol- 
 lowed across the garden, with the intention of 
 being guided by him until he should discover symp- 
 toms of treachery, and then piercing him through 
 the heart, or striking his head from his body. Hay- 
 raddin seemed himself conscious that his safety 
 turned on a feather-weight, for he forbore, from 
 the moment they entered the open air, all his 
 wonted gibes and quirks, and seemed to have made 
 a vow to act at once with modesty, courage, and 
 activity. 
 
 At the opposite door, which led to the ladies' 
 apartments, upon a low signal made by Hayraddin, 
 appeared two women, muffled in the black silk veils 
 which were then, as now, worn by the women in 
 the Netherlands. Quentin offered his arm to one 
 of them, who clung to it with trembling eagerness, 
 and indeed hung upon him so much, that had her 
 weight been greater, she must have much impeded 
 their retreat. The Bohemian, who conducted the 
 other female, took the road straight for the postern 
 which opened upon the moat, through the garden 
 wall, close to which the little skiff was drawn up, 
 by means of which Quentin had formerly observed 
 Hayraddin himself retreating from the castle. 
 
 As they crossed, the shouts of storm and success- 
 ful violence seemed to announce that the castle 
 was in the act of being taken ; and so dismal was 
 the sound in Quentin's ears, that he could not help 
 swearing aloud, "But that my blood is irretriev- 
 ably devoted to the fulfilment of my present duty, 
 
48 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 I would back to the wall, take faithful part with 
 the hospitable Bishop, and silence some of those 
 knaves whose throats are full of mutiny and 
 robbery ! " 
 
 The lady, whose arm was still folded in his, 
 pressed it lightly as he spoke, as if to make him 
 understand that there was a nearer claim on his 
 chivalry than the defence of Schonwaldt; while 
 the Bohemian exclaimed, loud enough to be heard, 
 "Now, that I call right Christian frenzy, which 
 would turn back to fight, when love and fortune 
 both demand that we should fly. On, on with 
 all the haste you can make Horses wait us in 
 yonder thicket of willows." 
 
 "There are but two horses," said Quentin, who 
 saw them in the moonlight. 
 
 " All that I could procure without exciting sus- 
 picion and enough, besides," replied the Bohe- 
 mian. " You two must ride for Tongres ere the 
 way becomes unsafe Marthon will abide with the 
 women of our horde, with whom she is an old ac- 
 quaintance. Know, she is a daughter of our tribe, 
 and only dwelt among you to serve our purpose as 
 occasion should fall." 
 
 " Marthon ! " exclaimed the Countess, looking at 
 the veiled female with a shriek of surprise; "is 
 not this my kinswoman ? " 
 
 " Only Marthon," said Hayraddin " Excuse 
 me that little piece of deceit. I dared not carry 
 off both the Ladies of Croye from the Wild Boar 
 of Ardennes." 
 
 " Wretch ! " said Quentin, emphatically " but 
 it is not shall not be too late I will back to res- 
 cue the Lady Hameline." 
 
 "Hameline," whispered the lady, in a disturbed 
 
QUENTIN DURWAKD. 49 
 
 voice, "hangs on thy arm, to thank thee for her 
 rescue." 
 
 " Ha ! what ! How is this ? " said Quentin, 
 extricating himself from her hold, and with less 
 gentleness than he would at any other time have 
 used towards a female of any rank " Is the Lady 
 Isabelle then left behind ! Farewell farewell." 
 
 As he turned to hasten back to the castle, Hay- 
 raddin laid hold of him " Nay, hear you hear 
 you you run upon your death ! What the foul 
 fiend did you wear the colours of the old one for ? 
 I will never trust blue and white silk again. But 
 she has almost as large a dower has jewels and 
 gold hath pretensions, too, upon the earldom." 
 
 While he spoke thus, panting on in broken sen- 
 tences, the Bohemian struggled to detain Quentin, 
 who at length laid his hand on his dagger, in order 
 to extricate himself. 
 
 "Nay, if that be the case," said Hayraddin, 
 unloosing his hold, " go and the devil, if there be 
 one, go along with you ! " And, soon as freed 
 from his hold, the Scot shot back to the castle with 
 the speed of the wind. 
 
 Hayraddin then turned round to the Countess 
 Hameline, who had sunk down on the ground, be- 
 tween shame, fear, and disappointment. 
 
 " Here has been a mistake," he said ; " up, lady, 
 and come with me I will provide you, ere morn- 
 ing comes, a gallanter husband than this smock- 
 faced boy ; and if one will not serve, you shall have 
 twenty." 
 
 The Lady Hameline was as violent in her pas- 
 sions, as she was vain and weak in her understand- 
 ing. Like many other persons, she went tolerably 
 well through the ordinary duties of life ; but in a 
 
 VOL. II. 4 
 
50 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 crisis like the present, she was entirely incapable of 
 doing aught, save pouring forth unavailing lamen- 
 tations, and accusing Hayraddin of being a thief, a 
 base slave, an impostor, a murderer. 
 
 " Call me Zingaro," returned he, composedly, 
 "and you have said all at once." 
 
 " Monster ! you said the stars had decreed our 
 union, and caused me to write wretch that I 
 was ! " exclaimed the unhappy lady. 
 
 "And so they had decreed your union," said 
 Hayraddin, " had both parties been willing but 
 think you the blessed constellations can make any 
 one wed against his will ? I was led into error 
 with your accursed Christian gallantries, and fop- 
 peries of ribbons and favours and the youth 
 prefers veal to beef, I think that's all. Up and 
 follow me ; and take notice, I endure neither weep- 
 ing nor swooning." 
 
 " I will not stir a foot," said the Countess, 
 obstinately. 
 
 " By the bright welkin, but you shall, though ! " 
 exclaimed Hayraddin. "I swear to you, by all 
 that ever fools believed in, that you have to do with 
 one, who would care little to strip you naked, bind 
 you to a tree, and leave you to your fortune ! " 
 
 " Nay," said Marthon, interfering, " by your fav- 
 our, she shall not be misused. I wear a knife as 
 well as you, and can use it She is a kind woman, 
 though a fool. And you, madam, rise up and follow 
 us Here has been a mistake ; but it is something 
 to have saved life and limb. There are many in 
 yonder castle would give all the wealth in the world 
 to stand where we do now." 
 
 As Marthon spoke, a clamour, in which the 
 shouts of victory were mingled with screams of 
 
QUENTIN DTJRWARD. 51 
 
 terror and despair, was wafted to them from the 
 Castle of Schonwaldt. 
 
 "Hear that, lady I " said Hayraddin, "and be 
 thankful you are not adding your treble pipe to 
 yonder concert. Believe me, I will care for you 
 honestly, and the stars shall keep their words, and 
 find you a good husband." . 
 
 Like some wild animal, exhausted and subdued 
 by terror and fatigue, the Countess Hameline yielded 
 herself up to the conduct of her guides, and 
 suffered herself to be passively led whichever way 
 they would. Nay, such was the confusion of her 
 spirits and the exhaustion of her strength, that the 
 worthy couple, who half bore, half led her, carried 
 on their discourse in her presence without her even 
 understanding it. 
 
 "I ever thought your plan was folly," said 
 Marthon. "Could you have brought the young 
 people together, indeed, we might have had a. hold 
 on their gratitude, and a footing in their castle. 
 But what chance of so handsome a youth wedding 
 this old fool?" 
 
 " Kizpah," said Hayraddin, " you have borne 
 the name of a Christian, and dwelt in the tents of 
 those besotted people, till thou hast become a par- 
 taker in their follies. How could I dream that he 
 would have made scruples about a few years, youth 
 or age, when the advantages of the match were so 
 evident ? And thou knowest, there would have 
 been no moving yonder coy wench to be so frank 
 as this coming Countess here, who hangs on our 
 arms as dead a weight as a wool-pack. I loved the 
 lad too, and would have done him a kindness : to 
 wed him to this old woman, was to make his for- 
 tune : to unite him to Tsabelle, were to have brought 
 
52 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 on him De la Marck, Burgundy, France, every 
 one that challenges an interest in disposing of her 
 hand. And this silly woman's wealth being chiefly 
 in gold and jewels, we should have had our share. 
 But the bow-string has burst, and the arrow failed. 
 Away with her we will bring her to William with 
 the Beard. By the time he has gorged himself 
 with wassail, as is his wont, he will not know an 
 old Countess from a young one. Away, Bizpah 
 bear a gallant heart. The bright Aldeboran 
 still influences the destinies of fife Children of the 
 Desert ! " 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE SACK. 
 
 The gates of mercy shall be all shut up, 
 And the flesh'd soldier, rough and hard of heart, 
 In liberty of bloody hand shall range, 
 With conscience wide as hell. 
 
 Henry V. 
 
 The surprised and affrighted garrison of the Castle 
 of Schonwaldt had, nevertheless, for some time, 
 made good the defence of the place against the 
 assailants ; but the immense crowds which, issuing 
 from the city of Liege, thronged to the assault like 
 bees, distracted their attention, and abated their 
 courage. 
 
 There was also disaffection at least, if not treach- 
 ery, among the defenders ; for some called out to 
 surrender, and others, deserting their posts, tried 
 to escape from the castle. Many threw themselves 
 from the walls into the moat, and such as escaped 
 drowning, flung aside their distinguishing badges, 
 and saved themselves by mingling among the motley 
 crowd of assailants. Some few, indeed, from attach- 
 ment to the Bishop's person, drew around him, and 
 continued to defend the great keep, to which he 
 had fled ; and others, doubtful of receiving quarter, 
 or from an impulse of desperate courage, held out 
 other detached bulwarks and towers of the exten- 
 sive building. But the assailants had got possession 
 
54 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 of the courts and lower parts of the edifice, and 
 were busy pursuing the vanquished, and searching 
 for spoil, while one individual, as if he sought for 
 that death from which all others were flying, en- 
 deavoured to force his way into the scene of tumult 
 and horror, under apprehensions still more horrible 
 to his imagination, than the realities around were to 
 his sight and senses. Whoever had seen Quentin 
 Durward that fatal night, not knowing the meaning 
 of his conduct, had accounted him a raging mad- 
 man ; whoever had appreciated his motives, had 
 ranked him nothing beneath a hero of romance. 
 
 Approaching Schonwaldt on the same side from 
 which he had left it, the youth met several fugitives 
 making for the wood, who naturally avoided him as 
 an enemy, because he came in an opposite direction 
 from that which they had adopted. When he came 
 nearer, he could hear, and partly see, men dropping 
 from the garden-wall into the castle fosse, and others 
 who seemed precipitated from the battlements by 
 the assailants. His courage was not staggered, even 
 for an instant. There was not time to look for the 
 boat, even had it been practicable to use it, and it 
 was in vain to approach the postern of the garden, 
 which was crowded with fugitives, who ever and 
 anon, as they were thrust through it by the pres- 
 sure behind, fell into the moat which they had no 
 means of crossing. 
 
 Avoiding that point, Quentin threw himself into 
 the moat, near what was called the little gate of 
 the castle, and where there was a drawbridge, which 
 was still elevated. He avoided with difficulty the 
 fatal grasp of more than one sinking wretch, and, 
 swimming to the drawbridge, caught hold of one 
 of the chains which was hanging down, and, by a 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. w 55 
 
 great exertion of strength and activity, swayed 
 himself out of the water, and attained the platform 
 from which the bridge was suspended. As with 
 hands and knees he struggled to make good his 
 footing, a lanzknecht, with his bloody sword in his 
 hand, made towards him, and raised his weapon for 
 a blow, which must have been fatal. 
 
 How now, fellow ! " said Quentin, in a tone of 
 authority " Is that the way in which you assist a 
 comrade ? Give me your hand." 
 
 The soldier in silence, and not without hesita- 
 tion, reached him his arm, and helped him upon 
 the platform, when without allowing him time for 
 reflection, the Scot continued in the same tone of 
 command "To the western tower, if you would 
 be rich the Priest's treasury is in the western 
 tower/' 
 
 These words were echoed on every hand: "To 
 the western tower the treasure is in the western 
 tower !" And the stragglers who were within hear- 
 ing of the cry, took, like a herd of raging wolves, 
 the direction opposite to that which Quentin, come 
 life, come death, was determined to pursue. 
 
 Bearing himself as if he were one, not of the 
 conquered, but of the victors, he made a way into 
 the garden, and pushed across it, with less inter- 
 ruption than he could have expected; for the cry 
 of " To the western tower ! " had carried off one 
 body of the assailants, and another was summoned 
 together, by war-cry and trumpet sound, to assist 
 in repelling a desperate sally, attempted by the 
 defenders of the Keep, who had hoped to cut their 
 way out of the castle, bearing the Bishop along with 
 them. Quentin, therefore, crossed the garden with 
 an eager step and throbbing heart, commending 
 
56 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 himself to those heavenly powers which had pro- 
 tected him through the numberless perils of his life, 
 and bold in his determination to succeed, or leave 
 his life in this desperate undertaking. Ere he 
 reached the garden, three men rushed on him with 
 leveled lances, crying, " Liege, Liege ! " 
 
 Putting himself in defence, but without striking, 
 he replied, " France, France, friend to Liege ! " 
 
 " Vivat France ! " cried the burghers of Liege, 
 and passed on. The same signal proved a talisman 
 to avert the weapons of four or five of La Marck's 
 followers, whom he found straggling in the garden, 
 and who set upon him, crying, "Sanglier !" 
 
 In a word, Quentin began to hope, that his char- 
 acter as an emissary of King Louis, the private 
 instigator of the insurgents of Liege, and the secret 
 supporter of William de la Marck, might possibly 
 bear him through the horrors of the night. 
 
 On reaching the turret, he shuddered when he 
 found the little side-door, through which Marthon 
 and the Countess Hameline had shortly before 
 joined him, was now blockaded with more than one 
 dead body. 
 
 Two of them he dragged hastily aside, and was 
 stepping over the third body, in order to enter the 
 portal, when the supposed dead man laid hand on 
 his cloak, and entreated him to stay and assist him 
 to rise. Quentin was about to use rougher methods 
 than struggling to rid himself of this untimely ob- 
 struction, when the fallen man continued to exclaim, 
 " I am stifled here, in mine own armour ! I am 
 the Syndic Pavilion of Liege ! If you are for us, I 
 will enrich you if you are for the other side, I will 
 protect you ; but do not do not leave me to die 
 the death of a smothered pig ! " 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 57 
 
 In the midst of this scene of blood and confu- 
 sion, the presence of mind of Quentin suggested to 
 him, that this dignitary might have the means of 
 protecting their retreat. He raised him on his feet, 
 and asked him if he was wounded. 
 
 " Not wounded at least I think not " answered 
 the burgher ; " but much out of wind." 
 
 " Sit down then on this stone, and recover your 
 breath," said Quentin ; " I will return instantly." 
 
 " For whom are you ? " said the burgher, still 
 detaining him. 
 
 " For France for France," answered Quentin, 
 studying to get away. 
 
 " What ! my lively young Archer ? " said the 
 worthy Syndic. " Nay, if it has been my fate to 
 find a friend in this fearful night, I will not quit 
 him, I promise you. Go where you will, I follow ; 
 and, could I get some of the tight lads of our guildry 
 together, I might be able to help you in turn ; but 
 they are all squandered abroad like so many pease. 
 Oh, it is a fearful night ! " 
 
 During this time, he was dragging himself on 
 after Quentin, who, aware of the importance of 
 securing the countenance of a person of such in- 
 fluence, slackened his pace to assist him, although 
 cursing in his heart the encumbrance that retarded 
 him. 
 
 At the top of the stair was an anteroom, with 
 boxes and trunks, which bore marks of having been 
 rifled, as some of the contents lay on the floor. A 
 lamp, dying in the chimney, shed a feeble beam 
 on a dead or senseless man, who lay across the 
 hearth. 
 
 Bounding from Pavilion, like a greyhound from 
 his keeper's leash, and with an effort which almost 
 
58 QUENTIN DURWABD. 
 
 overthrew him, Quentin sprung through a second 
 and a third room, the last of which seemed to be 
 the bedroom of the Ladies of Croye. No living 
 mortal was to be seen in either of them. He called 
 upon the Lady Isabelle's name, at first gently, then 
 more loudly, and then with an accent of despair- 
 ing emphasis ; but no answer was returned. He 
 wrung his hands, tore his hair, and stamped on the 
 earth with desperation. At length, a feeble glim- 
 mer of light, which shone through a crevice in the 
 wainscoting of a dark nook iiT the bedroom, an- 
 nounced some recess or concealment behind the 
 arras. Quentin hasted to examine it. He found 
 there was indeed a concealed door, but it resisted 
 his hurried efforts to open it. Heedless of the per- 
 sonal injury he might sustain, he rushed at the door 
 with his whole force and weight of his body; and 
 such was the impetus of an effort made betwixt hope 
 and despair, that it would have burst much stronger 
 fastenings. 
 
 He thus forced his way, almost headlong, into a 
 small oratory, where a female figure, which had 
 been kneeling in agonizing supplication before the 
 holy image, now sunk at length on the floor, under 
 the new terrors implied in this approaching tumult. 
 He hastily raised her from the ground, and, joy of 
 joys ! it was she whom he sought to save the 
 Countess Isabella He pressed her to his bosom 
 he conjured her to awake entreated her to be of 
 good cheer for that she was now under the pro- 
 tection of one who had heart and hand enough to 
 defend her against armies. 
 
 " Durward ! " she said, as she at length collected 
 herself, " is it indeed you ? then there is some 
 hope left. I thought all living and mortal friends 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 59 
 
 had left me to my fate Do not again abandon 
 me!" 
 
 " Never never ! " said Durward. " Whatever 
 shall happen whatever danger shall approach, may 
 I forfeit the benefits purchased by yonder blessed 
 sign, if I be not the sharer of your fate until it is 
 again a happy one ! " 
 
 "Very pathetic and touching, truly," said a 
 rough, broken, asthmatic voice behind "A love 
 affair, I see ; and, from my soul, I pity the tender 
 creature, as if she were my own Trudchen." 
 
 "You must do more than pity us," said Quentin, 
 turning towards the speaker ; " you must assist in 
 protecting us, Meinheer Pavilion. Be assured this 
 lady was put under my especial charge by your ally 
 the King of France ; and, if you aid me not to 
 shelter her from every species of offence and vio- 
 lence, your city will lose the favour of Louis of 
 Valois. Above all, she must be guarded from the 
 hands of William de la Marck." 
 
 " That will be difficult," said Pavilion, " for these 
 schelms of lanzknechts are very devils at rummag- 
 ing out the wenches ; but I'll do my best We 
 will to the other apartment, and there I will con- 
 sider It is but a narrow stair, and you can keep 
 the door with a pike, while I look from the window, 
 and get together some of my brisk boys of the 
 currier's guildry of Liege, that are as true as the 
 knives they wear in their girdles. But first undo 
 me these clasps for I have not worn this corslet 
 since the battle of Saint Tron ; 1 and I am three 
 
 1 Fought by the insurgents of Liege against the Duke of 
 Burgundy, Charles the Bold, when Count of Charalois, in which 
 the people of Liege were defeated with great slaughter. 
 
6o QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 stone heavier since that time, if there be truth in 
 Dutch beam and scale." 
 
 The undoing of the iron enclosure gave great 
 relief to the honest man, who, in putting it on, had 
 more considered his zeal to the cause of Liege, than 
 his capacity of bearing arms. It afterwards turned 
 out, that being, as it were, borne forward involun- 
 tarily, and hoisted over the walls by his company 
 as they thronged to the assault, the magistrate had 
 been carried here and there, as the tide of attack 
 and defence flowed or ebbed, without the power, 
 latterly, of even uttering a word ; until, as the sea 
 casts a log of driftwood ashore in the first creek, 
 he had been ultimately thrown down in the entrance 
 to the Ladies of Croye's apartments, where the 
 encumbrance of his own armour, with the superin- 
 cumbent weight of two men slain in the entrance, 
 and who fell above him, might have fixed him down 
 long enough, had he not been relieved by Durward. 
 
 The same warmth of temper which rendered Her- 
 mann Pavilion a hotheaded and intemperate zealot 
 in politics, had the more desirable consequence of 
 making him, in private, a good-tempered, kind- 
 hearted man, who, if sometimes a little misled by 
 vanity, was always well-meaning and benevolent. 
 He told Quentin to have an especial care of the 
 poor pretty yung frau ; and, after this unnecessary 
 exhortation, began to halloo from the window, 
 "Liege, Liege, for the gallant skinners' guild of 
 curriers ! " 
 
 One or two of his immediate followers collected 
 at the summons, and at the peculiar whistle with 
 which it was accompanied, (each of the crafts 
 having such a signal among themselves,) and, more 
 joining them, established a guard under the window 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 61 
 
 from which their leader was bawling, and before 
 the postern-door. . 
 
 Matters seemed now settling into some sort of 
 tranquillity. All opposition had ceased, and the 
 leaders of the different classes of assailants were 
 taking measures to prevent indiscriminate plunder. 
 The great bell was tolled, as summons to a military 
 council, and its iron tongue communicating to Liege 
 the triumphant possession of Schonwaldt by the 
 insurgents, was answered by all the bells in that 
 city; whose distant and clamorous voices seemed 
 to cry, Hail to the victors ! It would have been 
 natural, that Meinheer Pavilion should now have 
 sallied from his fastness ; but, either in reverent 
 care of those whom he had taken under his protec- 
 tion, or perhaps for the better assurance of his own 
 safety, he contented himself with dispatching mes- 
 senger on messenger, to command his lieutenant, 
 Peterkin Geislaer, to attend him directly. 
 
 Peterkin came at length, to his great relief, as 
 being the person upon whom, on all pressing occa- 
 sions, whether of war, politics, or commerce, Pa- 
 vilion was most accustomed to repose confidence. 
 He was a stout, squat figure, with a square face, 
 and broad black eyebrows, that announced him to 
 be opinionative and disputatious, an advice-giving 
 countenance, so to speak. He was endued with a 
 buff jerkin, wore a broad belt and cutlass by his side, 
 and carried a halberd in his hand. 
 
 "Peterkin, my dear lieutenant," said his com- 
 mander, " this has been a glorious day night, I 
 should say I trust thou art pleased for once ? " 
 
 " I am well enough pleased that you are so," 
 said the doughty lieutenant ; " though I should not 
 have thought of your celebrating the victory, if you 
 
62 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 call it one, up in this garret by yourself, when you 
 are wanted in council." 
 
 " But am I wanted there ? " said the Syndic. 
 
 " Ay, marry are you, to stand up for the rights 
 of Liege, that are in more danger than ever/' 
 answered the Lieutenant. 
 
 " Pshaw, Peterkin," answered his principal, " thou 
 art ever such a frampold grumbler " 
 
 " Grumbler ? not I," said Peterkin ; " what pleases 
 other people, will always please me. Only I wish 
 we have not got King Stork, instead of King Log, 
 like the fabliau that the Clerk of Saint Lamberts 
 used to read us out of Meister's iEsop's book." 
 
 " I cannot guess your meaning, Peterkin," said 
 the Syndic. 
 
 " Why then, I tell you, Master Pavilion, that 
 this Boar, or Bear, is like to make his own den of 
 Schonwaldt, and 'tis probable to turn out as bad a 
 neighbour to our town as ever was the old Bishop, 
 and worse. Here has he taken the whole conquest 
 in his own hand, and is only doubting whether he 
 should be called Prince or Bishop ; and it is a 
 shame to see how they have mishandled the old man 
 among them." 
 
 " I will not permit it, Peterkin," said Pavilion, 
 bustling up ; "I disliked the mitre, but not the 
 head that wore it. We are ten to one in the field, 
 Peterkin, and will not permit these courses." 
 
 " Ay, ten to one in the field, but only man to 
 man in the castle; besides that Nikkei Blok the 
 butcher, and all the rabble of the suburbs, take part 
 with William de la Marck, partly for solus and 
 braus, (for he has broached all the ale-tubs and 
 wine-casks,) and partly for old envy towards us, 
 who are the craftsmen, and have privileges." 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 63 
 
 "Peter," said Pavilion, "we will go presently 
 to the city. I will stay no longer in Schonwaldt." 
 
 " But the bridges of this castle are up, master," 
 said Geislaer " the gates locked, and guarded by 
 these lanzknechts : and, if we were to try to force 
 our way, these fellows, whose every-day business is 
 war, might make wild work of us, that only fight of 
 a holy day." 
 
 " But why has he secured the gates ? " said the 
 alarmed burgher; "or what business hath he to 
 make honest men prisoners ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell not I," said Peter. " Some noise 
 there is about the Ladies of Croye, who have es- 
 caped during the storm of the Castle. That first 
 put the Man with the Beard beside himself with 
 anger, and now he's beside himself with drink also." 
 
 The Burgomaster cast a disconsolate look towards 
 Quentin, and seemed at a loss what to resolve 
 upon. Durward, who had not lost a word of the 
 conversation, which alarmed him very much, saw 
 nevertheless that their only safety depended on his 
 preserving his own presence of mind, and sustain- 
 ing the courage of Pavilion. He struck boldly into 
 the conversation, as one who had a right to have a 
 voice in the deliberation. "I am ashamed," he 
 said. " Meinheer Pavilion, to observe you hesitate 
 what to do on this occasion. Go boldly to William 
 de la Marck, and demand free leave to quit the 
 castle, you, your lieutenant, your squire, and your 
 daughter. He can have no pretence for keeping 
 you prisoner." 
 
 " For me and my lieutenant that is myself and 
 Peter ? good but who is my squire ? " 
 
 "I am, for the present," replied the undaunted 
 Scot 
 
64 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 " You I " said the embarrassed burgess ; " but are 
 you not the envoy of King Louis of France ? " 
 
 " True, but my message is to the magistrates of 
 Liege and only in Liege will I deliver it. Were 
 I to acknowledge my quality before William de la 
 Marck, must I not enter into negotiation with him ? 
 ay, and, it is like, be detained by him. You must 
 get me secretly out of the Castle in the capacity of 
 your squire." 
 
 " Good my squire ; but you spoke of my 
 daughter my daughter is, I trust, safe in my 
 house in Liege where I wish her father was, with 
 all my heart and soul." 
 
 " This lady," said Durward, " will call you father 
 while we are in this place." 
 
 "And for my whole life afterwards," said the 
 Countess, throwing herself at the citizen's feet, and 
 clasping his knees. " Never shall the day pass in 
 which I will not honour you, love you, and pray 
 for you as a daughter for a father, if you will but 
 aid me in this fearful strait 0, be not hard-hearted ! 
 think your own daughter may kneel to a stranger, 
 to ask him for life and honour i think of this, and 
 give me the protection you would wish her to 
 receive ! " 
 
 " In troth," said the good citizen, much moved 
 with her pathetic appeal "I think, Peter, that 
 this pretty maiden hath a touch of our Trudchen's 
 sweet look, I thought so from the first ; and that 
 this brisk youth here, who is so ready with his 
 advice, is somewhat like Trudchen's bachelor I 
 wager a groat, Peter, that this is a true-love mat- 
 ter, and it is a sin not to further it." 
 
 "It were shame and sin both," said Peter, a 
 good-natured Fleming, notwithstanding all his self- 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 6s 
 
 conceit ; and as he spoke, he wiped his eyes with 
 the sleeve of his jerkin. 
 
 " She shall be my daughter, then," said Pavilion, 
 "well wrapped up in her black silk veil; and if 
 there are not enough of true-hearted skinners to 
 protect her, being the daughter of their Syndic, it 
 were pity they should ever tug leather more. But 
 hark ye, questions must be answered How if I 
 am asked what should my daughter make here at 
 such an onslaught ? " 
 
 "What should half the women in Liege make 
 here when they followed us to the Castle?" said 
 Peter ; " they had no other reason, sure, but that it 
 was just the place in the world that they should 
 not have come to. Our yung frau Trudchen has 
 come a little farther than the rest that is all." 
 
 "Admirably spoken," said Quentin : "only be 
 bold, and take this gentleman's good counsel, noble 
 Meinheer Pavilion, and, at no trouble to yourself, 
 you will do the most worthy action since the days 
 of Charlemagne. Here, sweet lady, wrap yourself 
 close in this veil," (for many articles of female ap- 
 parel lay scattered about the apartment,) " be but 
 confident, and a few minutes will place you in free- 
 dom and safety. Noble sir," he added, addressing 
 Pavilion, " set forward." 
 
 "Hold hold hold a minute," said Pavilion, 
 " my mind misgives me ! This De la Marck is a 
 fury ; a perfect boar in his nature as in his name ; 
 what if the young lady be one of those of Croye ? 
 and what if he discover her, and be addicted to 
 wrath ? " 
 
 " And if I were one of those unfortunate women," 
 said Isabelle, again attempting to throw herself at 
 his feet, " could you for that reject me in this mo- 
 
 YQL. D. 5 
 
66 QUENTIN DU11WARD. 
 
 merit of despair ? Oh, that I had been indeed your 
 daughter, or the daughter of the poorest burgher I" 
 
 " Not so poor not so poor neither, young lady 
 we pay as we go," said the citizen. 
 
 " Forgive me, noble sir," again began the un- 
 fortunate maiden. 
 
 " Not noble, nor sir neither," said the Syndic ; 
 "a plain burgher of Liege, that pays bills of ex- 
 change in ready guilders. But that is nothing to 
 the purpose. Well, say you be a countess, I will 
 protect you nevertheless." 
 
 " You are bound to protect her, were she a duch- 
 ess," said Peter, " having once passed your word." 
 
 " Eight, Peter, very right," said the Syndic ; "it 
 is our old Low Dutch fashion, ein wort, ein man ; 
 and now let us to this gear. We must take leave 
 of this William de la Marck ; and yet I know not, 
 my mind misgives me when I think of him ; and 
 were it a ceremony which could be waved, I have 
 no stomach to go through it." 
 
 " Were you not better, since you have a force 
 together, make for the gate and force the guard ? " 
 said Quentin. 
 
 But with united voice, Pavilion and his adviser 
 exclaimed against the propriety of such an attack 
 upon their ally's soldiers, with some hints concern- 
 ing its rashness, which satisfied Quentin that it was 
 not a risk to be hazarded with such associates. 
 They resolved, therefore, to repair boldly to the 
 great hall of the castle, where, as they understood, 
 the Wild Boar of Ardennes held his feast, and de- 
 mand free egress for the Syndic of Liege and his 
 company, a request too reasonable, as it seemed, to 
 be denied. Still the good Burgomaster groaned 
 when he looked on his companions^ and exclaimed 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 67 
 
 bo his faithful Peter, " See what it is to have too 
 bold and too tender a heart ! Alas ! Perkin, how 
 much have courage and humanity cost me ! and 
 how much may I yet have to pay for my virtues, 
 before Heaven makes us free of this damned Castle 
 of Schonwaldt ! " 
 
 As they crossed the courts, still strewed with 
 the dying and dead, Quentin, while he supported 
 Isabelle through the scene of horrors, whispered to 
 her courage and comfort, and reminded her that 
 her safety depended entirely on her firmness and 
 presence of mind. 
 
 " Not on mine not on mine," she said, " but 
 on yours on yours only. 0, if I but escape this 
 fearful night, never shall I forget him who saved 
 me ! One favour more only, let me implore at your 
 hand, and I conjure you to grant it, by your mother's 
 fame and your father's honour ! " 
 
 " What is it you can ask that I could refuse ? " 
 said Quentin, in a whisper. 
 
 "Plunge your dagger in my heart," said she, 
 " rather than leave me captive in the hands of these 
 monsters." 
 
 Quentin's only answer was a pressure of the 
 young Countess's hand, which seemed as if, but for 
 terror, it would have returned the caress. And, 
 leaning on her youthful protector, she entered the 
 fearful hall, preceded by Pavilion and his Lieu- 
 tenant, and followed by a dozen of the Kurschen- 
 schaft, or skinner's trade, who attended, as a guard 
 of honour, on the Syndic. 
 
 As they approached the hall, the yells of accla- 
 mation, and bursts of wild laughter, which pro- 
 ceeded from it, seemed rather to announce the revel 
 of festive demons, rejoicing after some accomplished 
 
68 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 triumph over the human race, than of mortal beings, 
 who had succeeded in a bold design. An emphatic 
 tone of mind, which despair alone could have in- 
 spired, supported the assumed courage of the Coun- 
 tess Isabelle; undaunted spirits, which rose with 
 the extremity, maintained that of Durward ; while 
 Pavilion and his lieutenant made a virtue of neces- 
 sity, and faced their fate like bears bound to a 
 stake, which must necessarily stand the dangers of 
 the course. 
 
CHAPTEE V. 
 
 THE REVELLERS. 
 
 Cade. Where's Dick, the butcher of Ashford ? 
 
 Dick. Here, sir. 
 
 Cade. They fell before thee like sheep and oxen ; and thou 
 behavedst thyself as if thou hadst been in thine own slaughter- 
 house. 
 
 Second Part of King Henry VI. 
 
 There could hardly exist a more strange and 
 horrible change than had taken place in the castle- 
 hall of Schonwaldt since Quentin had partaken of 
 the noontide meal there ; and it was indeed one 
 which painted, in the extremity of their dreadful 
 features, the miseries of war more especially when 
 waged by those most relentless of all agents, the 
 mercenary soldiers of a barbarous age men who, 
 by habit and profession, had become familiarized 
 with all that was cruel and bloody in the art of 
 war, while they were devoid alike of patriotism 
 and of the romantic spirit of chivalry. 
 
 Instead of the orderly, decent, and somewhat 
 formal meal, at which civil and ecclesiastical offi- 
 cers had, a few hours before, sat mingled in the 
 same apartment, where a light jest could only be 
 uttered in a whisper, and where, even amid super- 
 fluity of feasting and of wine, there reigned a deco- 
 rum which almost amounted to hypocrisy, there was 
 now such a scene of wild and roaring debauchery, 
 
70 QUENTIN BURWARD. 
 
 as Satan himself, had he taken the chair as founder 
 of the feast, could scarcely have improved. 
 
 At the head of the table sat, in the Bishop's 
 throne and state, which had been hastily brought 
 thither from his great council-chamber, the re- 
 doubted Boar of Ardennes himself, well deserving 
 that dreaded name, in which he affected to delight, 
 and which he did as much as he could think of to 
 deserve. His head was unhelmeted, but he wore 
 the rest of his ponderous and bright armour, which 
 indeed he rarely laid aside. Over his shoulders 
 hung a strong surcoat, made of the dressed skin of 
 a huge wild-boar, the hoofs being of solid silver, 
 and the tusks of the same. The skin of the head 
 was so arranged, that, drawn over the casque, when 
 the Baron was armed, or over his bare head, in the 
 fashion of a hood, as he often affected when the hel- 
 met was laid aside, and as he now wore it, the effect 
 was that of a grinning, ghastly monster ; and yet 
 the countenance which it overshadowed scarce 
 required such horrors to improve those which were 
 natural to its ordinary expression. 
 
 The upper part of De la Marck's face, as Nature 
 had formed it, almost gave the lie to his character ; 
 for though his hair, when uncovered, resembled the 
 rude and wild bristles of the hood he had drawn 
 over it, yet an open, high, and manly forehead, 
 broad ruddy cheeks, large, sparkling, light-coloured 
 eyes, and a nose hooked like the beak of the eagle, 
 promised something valiant and generous. But the 
 effect of these more favourable traits was entirely 
 overpowered by his habits of violence and inso- 
 lence, which, joined to debauchery and intemper- 
 ance, had stamped upon the feature's a character 
 inconsistent with the rough gallantry which they 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 71 
 
 would otherwise have exhibited. The former had, 
 from habitual indulgence, swoln the muscles of the 
 cheeks, and those around the eyes, in particular the 
 latter ; evil practices and habits had dimmed the 
 eyes themselves, reddened the part of them that 
 should have been white, and given the whole face 
 a hideous likeness of the monster, which it was the 
 terrible Baron's pleasure to resemble. But from 
 an odd sort of contradiction, De la Marck, while 
 he assumed in other respects the appearance of the 
 Wild Boar, and even seemed pleased with the 
 name, yet endeavoured, by the length and growth 
 of his beard, to conceal the circumstance that had 
 originally procured him that denomination. This 
 was an unusual thickness and projection of the 
 mouth and upper jaw, which, with the huge pro- 
 jecting side teeth, gave that resemblance to the 
 bestial creation, which, joined to the delight that 
 De la Marck had in haunting the forest so called, 
 originally procured for him the name of the Boar 
 of Ardennes. The beard, broad, grisly, and un- 
 combed, neither concealed the natural horrors of the 
 countenance, nor dignified its brutal expression. 
 
 The soldiers and officers sat around the table, 
 intermixed with the men of Liege, some of them 
 of the very lowest description ; among whom Nik- 
 kei Blok the butcher, placed near De la Marck 
 himself, was distinguished by his tucked-up sleeves, 
 which displayed arms smeared to the elbows with 
 blood, as was the cleaver which lay on the table 
 before him. The soldiers wore, most of them, their 
 beards long and grisly, in imitation of their leader ; 
 had their hair plaited and turned upwards, in the 
 manner that might best improve the natural feroc- 
 ity of their appearance ; and intoxicated, as many 
 
72 QTJENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 of them seemed to be, partly with the sense ol 
 triumph, and partly with the long libations of wine 
 which they had been quaffing, presented a spectacle 
 at once hideous and disgusting. The language 
 which they held, and the songs which they sung, 
 without even pretending to pay each other the com- 
 pliment of listening, were so full of license and 
 blasphemy, that Quentin blessed God that the ex- 
 tremity of the noise prevented them from being 
 intelligible to his companion. 
 
 It only remains to say, of the better class of 
 burghers who were associated with William de la 
 Marck's soldiers in this fearful revel, that the wan 
 faces and anxious mien of the greater part, showed 
 that they either disliked their entertainment, or 
 feared their companions ; while some of lower edu- 
 cation, or a nature more brutal, saw only in the 
 excesses of the soldier a gallant bearing, which they 
 would willingly imitate, and the tone of which they 
 endeavoured to catch so far as was possible, and 
 stimulated themselves to the task, by swallowing 
 immense draughts of wine and schwarz bier indulg- 
 ing a vice which at all times was too common in 
 the Low Countries. 
 
 The preparations for the feast had been as dis- 
 orderly as the quality of the company. The whole 
 of the Bishop's plate nay, even that belonging to 
 the service of the Church, for the Boar of Ardennes 
 regarded not the imputation of sacrilege was 
 mingled with black-jacks, or huge tankards made of 
 leather, and drinking-horns of the most ordinary 
 description. 
 
 One circumstance of horror remains to be added 
 and accounted for ; and we willingly leave the 
 rest of the scene to the imagination of the reader. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 73 
 
 Amidst the wild license assumed by the soldiers of 
 De la Marck, one who was excluded from the table, 
 (a lanzknecht, remarkable for his courage and for 
 his daring behaviour during the storm of the even- 
 ing,) had impudently snatched up a large silver 
 goblet, and carried it off, declaring it should atone 
 for his loss of the share of the feast. The leader 
 laughed till his sides shook at a jest so congenial 
 to the character of the company ; but when another, 
 less renowned, it would seem, for audacity in battle, 
 ventured on using the same freedom, De la Marck 
 instantly put a check to a jocular practice, which 
 would soon have cleared his table of all the more 
 valuable decorations. " Ho 1 by the spirit of the 
 thunder ! " he exclaimed, " those who dare not be 
 men when they face the enemy, must not pretend 
 to be thieves among their friends. What ! thou 
 frontless dastard, thou thou who didst wait for 
 opened gate and lowered .bridge, when Conrade Horst 
 forced his way over moat and wall, must thou be mal- 
 apert ? Knit him up to the stanchions of the hall- 
 window ! He shall beat time with his feet, while 
 we drink a cup to his safe passage to the devil." 
 
 The doom was scarce sooner pronounced than ac- 
 complished ; and in a moment the wretch wrestled 
 out his last agonies, suspended from the iron bars. 
 His body still hung there when Quentin and the 
 others entered the hall, and intercepting the pale 
 moonbeam, threw on the castle-floor an uncertain 
 shadow, which dubiously, yet fearfully, intimated 
 the nature of the substance that produced it. 
 
 When the Syndic Pavilion was announced from 
 mouth to mouth in this tumultuous meeting, he 
 endeavoured to assume, in right of his authority 
 and influence, an air of importance and equality, 
 
74 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 which a glance at the fearful object at the window 
 and at the wild scene around him, rendered it very 
 difficult for him to sustain, notwithstanding the 
 exhortations of Peter, who whispered in his ear, 
 with some perturbation, " Up heart, master, or we 
 are but gone men ! " 
 
 The Syndic maintained his dignity, however, as 
 well as he could, in a short address, in which he 
 complimented the company upon the great victory 
 gained by the soldiers of De la Marck and the good 
 citizens of Liege. 
 
 " Ay," answered De la Marck, sarcastically, " we 
 have brought down the game at last, quoth my 
 lady's brach to the wolf-hound. But ho ! Sir Burgo- 
 master, you come like Mars, with Beauty by your 
 side. Who is this fair one ? Unveil, unveil no 
 woman calls her beauty her own to-night." 
 
 "It is my daughter, noble leader," answered 
 Pavilion ; " and I am to nray your forgiveness for 
 her wearing a veil. She has a vow for that effect to 
 the Three Blessed Kings." 
 
 " I will absolve her of it presently," said De la 
 Marck ; " for here, with one stroke of a cleaver, 
 will I consecrate myself Bishop of Liege ; and I 
 trust one living bishop is worth three dead kings." 
 
 There was a shuddering and murmur among the 
 guests , for the community of Liege, and even some 
 of the rude soldiers, reverenced the Kings of 
 Cologne, as they were commonly called, though they 
 respected nothing else. 
 
 "Nay, I mean no treason against their defunct 
 majesties," said De la Marck ; " only bishop I am 
 determined, to be. A prince both secular and ec- 
 clesiastical, having power to bind and loose, will 
 best suit a band of reprobates such as you, to whom 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 75 
 
 qo one else would give absolution. But come 
 hither, noble Burgomaster sit beside me, when 
 you shall see me make a vacancy for my own pre- 
 ferment. Bring in our predecessor in the holy 
 seat" 
 
 A bustle took place in the hall, while Pavilion, 
 excusing himself from the proffered seat of honour, 
 placed himself near the bottom of the table, his 
 followers keeping close behind him, not unlike a 
 flock of sheep which, when a stranger dog is in 
 presence, may be sometimes seen to assemble in 
 the rear of an old belwether, who is, from office 
 and authority, judged by them to have rather more 
 courage than themselves. Near the spot sat a very 
 handsome lad, a natural son, as was said, of the 
 ferocious De la Marck, and towards whom he 
 sometimes showed affection, and eVen tenderness. 
 The mother of the boy, a beautiful concubine, had 
 perished by a blow dealt her by the ferocious leader 
 in a fit of drunkenness or jealousy ; and her fate 
 had caused her tyrant as much remorse as he was 
 capable of feeling. His attachment to the surviv- 
 ing orphan might be partly owing to these circum- 
 stances. Quentin, who had learned this point of 
 the leader's character from the old priest, planted 
 himself as close as he could to the youth in ques- 
 tion ; determined to make him, in some way or 
 other, either a hostage or a protector, should other 
 means of safety fail them. 
 
 While all stood in a kind of suspense, waiting 
 the event of the orders which the tyrant had issued, 
 one of Pavilion's followers whispered Peter, " Did 
 not our master call that wench his daughter? 
 Why, it cannot be our Trudchen. This strapping 
 lass is taller by two inches ; and there is a black 
 
70 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 lock of hair peeps forth yonder from under hei 
 veil. By Saint Michael of the Market-place, you 
 might as well call a black bullock's hide a white 
 heifer's!" 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! " said Peter, with some presence 
 of mind " What if our master hath a mind to 
 steal a piece of doe-venison out of the Bishop's park 
 here without our good dame's knowledge ? And 
 is it for thee or me to be a spy on him ? " 
 
 " That will not I, brother," answered the other, 
 " though I would not have thought of his turning 
 deer-stealer at his years. Sapperment what a 
 shy fairy it is! See how she crouches down on 
 yonder seat, behind folk's backs, to escape the gaze 
 of the Marckers. But hold, hold ; what are they 
 about to do with the poor old Bishop ? " 
 
 As he spoke, the Bishop of Liege, Louis of Bourbon, 
 was dragged into the hall of his own palace by the 
 brutal soldiery. The dishevelled state of his hair, 
 beard, and attire, bore witness to the ill treatment 
 he had already received ; and some of his sacerdotal 
 robes hastily flung over him, appeared to have been 
 put on in scorn and ridicule of his quality and char- 
 acter. By good fortune, as Quentin was compelled 
 to think it, the Countess Isabelle, whose feelings at 
 seeing her protector in such an extremity might 
 have betrayed her own secret and compromised her 
 safety, was so situated as neither to hear nor see 
 what was about to take place ; and Durward sedu- 
 lously interposed his own person before her, so as to 
 keep her from observing alike, and from observation. 
 
 The scene which followed was short and fearful. 
 When the unhappy Prelate was brought before the 
 footstool of the savage leader, although in former 
 life only remarkable for his easy and good-natured 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 77 
 
 temper, he showed in this extremity a sense of his 
 dignity and noble blood, well becoming the high 
 race from which he was descended. His look was 
 composed and undismayed; his gesture, when the 
 rude hands which dragged him forward were un- 
 loosed, was noble, and at the same time resigned, 
 somewhat between the bearing of a feudal noble 
 and of a Christian martyr ; and so much was even 
 De la Marck himself staggered by the firm de- 
 meanour of his prisoner, and recollection of the 
 early benefits he had received from him, that he 
 seemed irresolute, cast down his eyes, and it was 
 not until he had emptied a large goblet of wine, 
 that, resuming his haughty insolence of look and 
 manner, he thus addressed his unfortunate captive : 
 "Louis of Bourbon," saicTthe truculent soldier, 
 drawing hard his breath, clenching his hands, set- 
 ting his teeth, and using the other mechanical ac- 
 tions to rouse up and sustain his native ferocity of 
 temper "I sought your friendship, and you re- 
 jected mine. What would you now give that it had 
 been otherwise ? Nikkei, be ready." 
 
 The butcher rose, seized his weapon, and stealing 
 round behind De la Marck's chair, stood with it 
 uplifted in his bare and sinewy arms. 
 
 " Look at that man, Louis of Bourbon," said De la 
 Marck again "What terms wilt .thou now offer, to 
 escape this dangerous hour ?" 
 
 The Bishop cast a melancholy but unshaken look 
 upon the grisly satellite, who seemed prepared to 
 execute the will of the tyrant, and then he said with 
 firmness, " Hear me, William de la Marck ; and good 
 men all, if there be any here who deserve that name, 
 hear the only terms I can offer to this ruffian. 
 William de la Marck, thou hast stirred up to sedition 
 
78 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 an imperial city hast assaulted and taken the palace 
 of a Prince of the Holy German Empire slain his 
 people plundered his goods maltreated his per- 
 son ; for this thou art liable to the Ban of the Em- 
 pire hast deserved to be declared outlawed and 
 fugitive, landless and rightless. Thou hast done 
 more than all this. More than mere human laws 
 hast thou broken more than mere human ven- 
 geance hast thou deserved. Thou hast broken into 
 the sanctuary of the Lord laid violent hands 
 upon a Father of the Church defiled the house 
 of God with blood and rapine, like a sacrilegious 
 robber " 
 
 "Hast thou yet done?" said De la Marck, fiercely 
 interrupting him, and stamping with his foot. 
 
 " No," answered the Prelate, " for I have not yet 
 told thee the terms which you demanded to hear 
 from me." 
 
 " Go on," said De la Marck ; " and let the terms 
 please me better than the preface, or woe to thy 
 grey head !" And flinging himself back in his seat, 
 he grinded his teeth till the foam flew from his 
 lips, as from the tusks of the savage animal whose 
 name and spoils he wore. 
 
 " Such are thy crimes," resumed the Bishop, with 
 calm determination ; " now hear the terms, which, 
 as a merciful Prince and a Christian Prelate, setting 
 aside all personal offence, forgiving each peculiar 
 injury, I condescend to offer. Fling down thy 
 leading-staff renounce thy command unbind 
 thy prisoners restore thy spoil distribute what 
 else thou hast of goods, to relieve those whom thou 
 hast made orphans and widows array thyself in 
 sackcloth and ashes take a palmer's staff in thy 
 hand, and go barefooted on pilgrimage to Rome, 
 
QUENTIN DURWAR.D. 79 
 
 and we will ourselves be intercessors for thee with 
 the Imperial Chamber at Eatisbon for thy life, with 
 our Holy Father the Pope for thy miserable soul." 
 
 While Louis of Bourbon proposed these terms, 
 in a tone as decided as if he still occupied his epis- 
 copal throne, and as if the usurper kneeled a sup- 
 pliant at his feet, the tyrant slowly raised himself 
 in his chair, the amazement with which he was at 
 first filled giving way gradually to rage, until, as 
 the Bishop ceased, he looked to Nikkei Blok, and 
 raised his finger, without speaking a word. The 
 ruffian struck, as if he had been doing his office in 
 the common shambles, and the murdered Bishop 
 sunk, without a groan, at the foot of his own epis- 
 copal throne. 1 The Liegeois, who were not prepared 
 for so horrible a catastrophe, and who had expected 
 to hear the conference end in some terms of accom- 
 modation, started up unanimously, with cries of exe- 
 cration, mingled with shouts of vengeance. 
 
 But William de la Marck, raising his tremendous 
 voice above the tumult, and shaking his clenched 
 hand and extended arm, shouted aloud, " How now, 
 ye porkers of Liege! ye wallowers in the mud of 
 the Maes! do ye dare to mate yourselves with the 
 Wild Boar of Ardennes ? Up, ye Boar's brood ! " 
 (an expression by which he himself, and others, 
 often designated his soldiers,) "let these Flemish 
 hogs see your tusks ! " 
 
 Every one of his followers started up at the com- 
 mand, and mingled as they were among their late 
 allies, prepared too for such a surprisal, each had, in 
 an instant, his next neighbour by the collar, while 
 his right hand brandished a broad dagger, that glim- 
 
 1 Note I. Murder of the Bishop of Liege 
 
80 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 mered against lamplight and moonshine. Every arm 
 was uplifted, but no one struck ; for the victims were 
 too much surprised for resistance, and it was probably 
 the object of De la Marck only to impose terror on 
 his civic confederates. 
 
 But the courage of Quentin Durward, prompt 
 and alert in resolution beyond his years, and stim- 
 ulated at the moment by all that could add energy 
 to his natural shrewdness and resolution, gave a 
 new turn to the scene. Imitating the action of the 
 followers of De la Marck, he sprung on Carl Eber- 
 son, the son of their leader, and mastering him 
 with ease, held his dirk at the boy's throat, while 
 he exclaimed, " Is that your game ? then here I 
 play my part." 
 
 "Hold! hold!" exclaimed De la Marck, "it is 
 a jest a jest Think you I would injure my good 
 friends and allies of the city of Liege ? Soldiers, 
 unloose your holds ; sit down ; take away the car- 
 rion" (giving the Bishop's corpse a thrust with his 
 foot) " which hath caused this strife among friends, 
 and let us drown unkindness in a fresh carouse." 
 
 All unloosened their holds, and the citizens and 
 soldiers stood gazing on each other, as if they scarce 
 knew whether they were friends or foes. Quentin 
 Durward took advantage of the moment. 
 
 " Hear me," he said, " William de la Marck, and 
 you, burghers and citizens of Liege; and do you, 
 young sir, stand still," (for the boy Carl was at- 
 tempting to escape from his gripe ;) " no harm shall 
 befall you, unless another of these sharp jests shall 
 pass round." 
 
 "Who art thou, in the fiend's name," said the 
 astonished De la Marck, "who art come to hold 
 terms and take hostages from us in our own lair - 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 8r 
 
 from us, who exact pledges from others, but yield 
 them to no one ? " 
 
 " I am a servant of King Louis of France," said 
 Quentin, boldly ; " an Archer of his Scottish Guard, 
 as my language and dress may partly tell you. I 
 am here to behold and to report your proceedings ; 
 and I see with wonder, that they are those of 
 heathens, rather than Christians of madmen, 
 rather than men possessed of reason. The hosts of 
 Charles of Burgundy will be instantly in motion 
 against you all; and if you wish assistance from 
 France, you must conduct yourselves in a different 
 manner. For you, men of Liege, I advise your in- 
 stant return to your own city ; and if there is any 
 obstruction offered to your departure, I denounce 
 those by whom it is so offered, foes to my master, 
 his most gracious Majesty of France." 
 
 " France and Liege ! France and Liege ! " cried 
 the followers of Pavilion, and several other citizens, 
 whose courage began to rise at the bold language 
 held by Quentin. 
 
 "France and Liege, and long live the gallant 
 Archer ! We will live and die with him ! " 
 
 William de la Marck's eyes sparkled, and he 
 grasped his dagger as if about to launch it at the 
 heart of the audacious speaker; but glancing his 
 eye around, he read something in the looks of his 
 soldiers, which even he was obliged to respect. 
 Many of them were Frenchmen, and all of them 
 knew the private support which William had re- 
 ceived, both in men and in money, from that king- 
 dom ; nay, some of them were rather startled at the 
 violent and sacrilegious action which had been just 
 committed. The name of Charles of Burgundy, a 
 person likely to resent to the utmost the deeds of 
 
 VOL. II. 6 
 
82 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 that night, had an alarming sound, and the extreme 
 impolicy of at once quarrelling with the Liegeois 
 and provoking the Monarch of France, made an 
 appalling impression on their minds, confused as 
 their intellects were. De la Marck, in short, saw he 
 would not be supported, even by his own band, in 
 any farther act of immediate violence, and relaxing 
 the terrors of his brow and eye, declared that " he 
 had not the least design against his good friends of 
 Liege, all of whom were at liberty to depart from 
 Schonwaldt at their pleasure; although he had 
 hoped they would revel one night with him, at 
 least, in honour of their victory." He added, with 
 more calmness than he commonly used, that "he 
 would be ready to enter into negotiation concerning 
 the partition of spoil, and the arrangement of mea- 
 sures for their mutual defence, either the next day, or 
 as soon after as they would. Meantime, he trusted 
 that the Scottish gentleman would honour his feast 
 by remaining all night at Schonwaldt." 
 
 The young Scot returned his thanks, but said, 
 his motions must be determined by those of Pavil- 
 ion, to whom he was directed particularly to attach 
 himself ; but that, unquestionably, he would attend 
 him on his next return to the quarters of the val- 
 iant William de la Marck. 
 
 " If you depend on my motions," said Pavilion, 
 hastily and aloud, " you are likely to quit Schon- 
 waldt without an instant's delay; and, if you do 
 not come back to Schonwaldt, save in my company, 
 you are not likely to see it again in a hurry." 
 
 This last part of the sentence the honest citizen 
 muttered to himself, afraid of the consequences of 
 giving audible vent to feelings, which, nevertheless, 
 he was unable altogether to suppress. 
 
QUENTIN DURWAKD. 83 
 
 " Keep close about me. my brisk Kurschner lads," 
 he said to his body-guard, " and we will get as fast 
 as we can out of this den of thieves." 
 
 Most of the better classes of the Liegeois seemed 
 to entertain similar opinions with the Syndic, and 
 there had been scarce so much joy amongst them 
 at the obtaining possession of Schonwaldt, as now 
 seemed to arise from the prospect of getting safe 
 out of it. They were suffered to leave the castle 
 without opposition of any kind ; and glad was Quen- 
 tin when he turned his back on those formidable 
 walls. 
 
 For the first time since they had entered that 
 dreadful hall, Quentin ventured to ask the young 
 Countess how she did. 
 
 "Well, well," she answered, in feverish haste, 
 " excellently well do not stop to ask a question ; 
 let us not lose an instant in words Let us fly 
 let us fly ! " 
 
 She endeavoured to mend her pace as she spoke ; 
 but with so little success, that she must have fallen 
 from exhaustion, had not Durward supported her. 
 With the tenderness of a mother, when she conveys 
 her infant out of danger, the young Scot raised his 
 precious charge in his arms ; and, while she en- 
 circled his neck with one arm, lost to every other 
 thought save the desire of escaping, he would not 
 have wished one of the risks of the night unen- 
 countered, since such had been the conclusion. 
 
 The honest Burgomaster was, in his turn, sup- 
 ported and dragged forward by his faithful coun- 
 sellor Peter, and another of his clerks ; and thus, 
 in breathless haste, they reached the banks of the 
 river, encountering many strolling bands of citizens, 
 who were eager to know the event of the siege, 
 
84 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 arid the truth of certain rumours already afloat fc 
 the conquerors had quarrelled among themseh es. 
 
 Evading their curiosity as they best could, the 
 exertions of Peter and some of his companion, at 
 length procured a boat for the use of the company, 
 and with it an opportunity of enjoying some repose, 
 equally welcome to Isabelle, who continued to lie 
 almost motionless in the arms of her preserver, and 
 to the worthy Burgomaster, who, after delivering 
 a broken string of thanks to Durward, whose mind 
 was at the time too much occupied to answer him, 
 began a long harangue, which he addressed to Peter, 
 upon his own courage and benevolence, and the 
 dangers to which these virtues had exposed him, 
 on this and other occasions. 
 
 " Peter, Peter," he said, resuming the complaint 
 of the preceding evening, " if I had not had a bold 
 heart, I would never have stood out against paying 
 the burghers-twentieths, when every other living 
 soul was willing to pay the same. Ay, and then 
 a less stout heart had not seduced me into that 
 other battle of Saint Tron, where a Hainault man- 
 at-arms thrust me into a muddy ditch with his 
 lance, which neither heart nor hand that I had 
 could help me out of, till the battle was over Ay, 
 and then, Peter, this very night my courage se- 
 duced me, moreover, into too strait a corslet, 
 which would have been the death of me, but for 
 the aid of this gallant young gentleman, whose 
 trade is fighting, whereof I wish him heartily joy. 
 And then for my tenderness of heart, Peter, it has 
 made a poor man of me that is, it would have 
 made a poor man of me, if I had not been tolerably 
 well to pass in this wicked world ; and Heaven 
 knows what trouble it is like to bring on me yet, 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 85 
 
 with ladies, countesses, and keeping of secrets, 
 which, for aught I know, may cost me half my 
 fortune, and my neck into the bargain ! " 
 
 Quentin could remain no longer silent, but as- 
 sured him, that whatever danger or damage he 
 should incur on the part of the young lady now 
 under his protection, should be thankfully acknow- 
 ledged, and, as far as was possible, repaid. 
 
 " I thank you, young Master Squire Archer, I 
 thank you," answered the citizen of Liege ; " but 
 who was it told you that I desired any repayment 
 at your hand for doing the duty of an honest man ? 
 I only regretted that it might cost me so and so ; 
 and I hope I may have leave to say so much to 
 my lieutenant, without either grudging my loss or 
 my peril." 
 
 Quentin accordingly concluded that his present 
 friend was one of the numerous class of benefactors 
 to others, who take out their reward in grum- 
 bling, without meaning more than, by showing their 
 grievances, to exalt a little the idea of the valuable 
 service by which they have incurred them, and 
 therefore prudently remained silent, and suffered 
 the Syndic to maunder on to his lieutenant con- 
 cerning the risk and the loss he had encountered 
 by his zeal for the public good, and his disinterested 
 services to individuals, until they reached his own 
 habitation. 
 
 The truth was, that the honest citizen felt that 
 he had lost a little consequence, by suffering the 
 young stranger to take the lead at the crisis which 
 had occurred at the castle-hall of Schonwaldt ; and, 
 however delighted with the effect of Durward's in- 
 nce at the moment, it seemed to him, on 
 ion, that he had sustained a diminution of 
 
86 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 importance, for which he endeavoured to obtain 
 compensation, by exaggerating the claims which 
 he had upon the gratitude of his country in general, 
 his friends in particular, and more especially still, on 
 the Countess of Croye, and her youthful protector. 
 
 But when the boat stopped at the bottom of his 
 garden, and he had got himself assisted on shore 
 by Peter, it seemed as if the touch of his own 
 threshold had at once dissipated those feelings of 
 wounded self-opinion and jealousy, and converted 
 the discontented and obscured demagogue into the 
 honest, kind, hospitable, and friendly host. He 
 called loudly for Trudchen, who presently appeared ; 
 for fear and anxiety would permit few within the 
 walls of Liege to sleep during that eventful night. 
 She was charged to pay the utmost attention to the 
 care of the beautiful and half-fainting stranger; 
 and, admiring her personal charms, while she pitied 
 her distress, Gertrude discharged the hospitable 
 duty with the zeal and affection of a sister. 
 
 Late as it now was, and fatigued as the Syndic 
 appeared, Quentin, on his side, had difficulty to 
 escape a flask of choice and costly wine, as old 
 as the battle of Azincour ; and must have sub- 
 mitted to take his share, however unwilling, but 
 for the appearance of the mother of the family, 
 whom Pavilion's loud summons for the keys of 
 the cellar brought forth from her bedroom. She 
 was a jolly little roundabout woman, who had been 
 pretty in her time, but whose principal character- 
 istics for several years had been a red and sharp 
 nose, a shrill voice, and a determination that the 
 Syndic, in consideration of the authority which he 
 exercised when abroad, should remain under the 
 rule of due discipline at home. 
 
QUENTIN DURWABD. 87 
 
 So soon as she understood the nature of the de- 
 bate between her husband and his guest, she de- 
 clared roundly, that the former, instead of having 
 occasion for more wine, had got too much already ; 
 and, far from using, in furtherance of his request, 
 any of the huge bunch of keys which hung by a 
 silver chain at her waist, she turned her back on 
 him without ceremony, and ushered Quentin to 
 the neat and pleasant apartment in which he was 
 to spend the night, amid such appliances to rest 
 and comfort as probably he had till that moment 
 been entirely a stranger to ; so much did the 
 wealthy Flemings excel, not merely the poor and 
 rude Scots, but the French themselves, in all the 
 conveniences of domestic life. 
 
CHAPTEK VI. 
 
 THE FLIGHT. 
 
 Now bid me run, 
 
 And I will strive with things impossible 
 Yea, get the better of them. 
 
 Set on your foot ; 
 
 And, with a heart new fired, I follow you. 
 To do I know not what. 
 
 Julius Ccesar 
 
 In spite of a mixture of joy and fear, doubt, anxiety, 
 and other agitating passions, the exhausting fatigues 
 of the preceding day were powerful enough to 
 throw the young Scot into a deep and profound 
 repose, which lasted until late on the day follow- 
 ing ; when his worthy host entered the apartment, 
 with looks of care on his brow. 
 
 He seated himself by his guest's bedside, and 
 began a long and complicated discourse upon the 
 domestic duties of a married life, and especially 
 upon the awful power and right supremacy which 
 it became married men to sustain in all differences 
 of opinion with their wives. Quentin listened with 
 some anxiety. He knew that husbands, like other 
 belligerent powers, were sometimes disposed to sing 
 Te Deum, rather to conceal a defeat than to celebrate 
 a victory ; and he hastened to probe the matter 
 more closely, " by hoping their arrival had been 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 89 
 
 attended with no inconvenience to the good lady of 
 the household." 
 
 " Inconvenience ! no," answered the Burgo- 
 master " No woman can be less taken unawares 
 than Mother Mabel always happy to see her 
 friends always a clean lodging and a handsome 
 meal ready for them, with God's blessing on bed 
 and board No woman on earth so hospitable 
 only 'tis pity her temper is something particular." 
 
 "Our residence here is disagreeable to her, in 
 short ? " said the Scot, starting out of bed, and 
 beginning to dress himself hastily. " Were I but 
 sure the Lady Isabelle were fit for travel after 
 the horrors of the last night, we would not in- 
 crease the offence by remaining here an instant 
 longer." 
 
 " Nay," said Pavilion, " that is just what the 
 young lady herself said to Mother Mabel; and 
 truly I wish you saw the colour that came to her 
 face as she said it a milkmaid that has skated five 
 miles to market against the frost-wind is a lily 
 compared to it I do not wonder Mother Mabel 
 may be a little jealous, poor dear soul." 
 
 " Has the Lady Isabelle then left her apartment ? " 
 said the youth, continuing his toilette operations 
 with more dispatch than before. 
 
 " Yes," replied Pavilion ; " and she expects 
 your approach with much impatience, to deter- 
 mine which way you shall go since you are both 
 determined on going. But I trust you will tarry 
 breakfast ? " 
 
 " Why did you not tell me this sooner ? " said 
 Durward, impatiently. 
 
 " Softly softly," said the Syndic ; "I have told 
 it you too soon, I think, if it puts you into such a 
 
go QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 hasty fluster. Now I have some more matter for 
 your ear, if I saw you had some patience to listen 
 to me." 
 
 " Speak it, worthy sir, as soon and as fast as you 
 can I listen devoutly." 
 
 " Well, then," resumed the Burgomaster, " I 
 have but one word to say, and that is, that Trud- 
 chen, who is as sorry to part with yonder pretty 
 lady as if she had been some sister of hers, wants 
 you to take some other disguise ; for there is word 
 in the town that the Ladies of Croye travel the 
 country in pilgrim's dresses, attended by a French 
 life-guardsman of the Scottish Archers ; and it is 
 said one of them was brought into Schonwaldt last 
 night by a Bohemian after we had left it ; and it 
 was said still farther, that this same Bohemian had 
 assured William de la Marck that you were charged 
 with no message either to him or to the good people 
 of Liege, and that you had stolen away the young 
 Countess, and travelled with her as her paramour. 
 And all this news hath come from Schonwaldt this 
 morning ; and it has been told to us and the other 
 counsellors, who know not well what to advise ; for 
 though our own opinion is that William de la Marck 
 has been a thought too rough both with the Bishop 
 and with ourselves, yet there is a great belief that 
 he is a good-natured soul at bottom that is, when 
 he is sober and that he is the only leader in the 
 world to command us against the Duke of Burgundy ; 
 and, in truth, as matters stand, it is partly my 
 own mind that we must keep fair with him, for we 
 have gone too far to draw back." 
 
 "Your daughter advises well," said Quentin 
 Durward, abstaining from reproaches or exhorta- 
 tions, which he saw would be alike unavailing to 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 91 
 
 sway a resolution, which had been adopted by the 
 worthy magistrate in compliance at once with the 
 prejudices of his party and the inclination of his 
 wife "Your daughter counsels well We must 
 part in disguise, and that instantly. We may, I 
 trust, rely upon you for the necessary secrecy, and 
 for the means of escape ? " 
 
 " With all my heart with all my heart," said 
 the honest citizen, who, not much satisfied with the 
 dignity of his own conduct, was eager to find some 
 mode of atonement. " I cannot but remember that 
 I owed you my life last night, both for unclasping 
 that accursed steel doublet, and helping me through 
 the other scrape, which was worse ; for yonder Boar 
 and his brood look more like devils than men. So 
 I will be true to you as blade to haft, as our cutlers 
 say, who are the best in the whole world. Nay, 
 now you are ready, come this way you shall see 
 how far I can trust you." 
 
 The Syndic led him from the chamber in which 
 he had slept to his own counting-room, in which 
 he transacted his affairs of business ; and after bolt- 
 ing the door, and casting a piercing and careful eye 
 around him, he opened a concealed and vaulted 
 closet behind the tapestry, in which stood more 
 than one iron chest. He proceeded to open one 
 which was full of guilders, and placed it at Quen- 
 tin's discretion, to take whatever sum he might 
 think necessary for his companion's expenses and 
 his own. 
 
 As the money with which Quentin was furnished 
 on leaving Plessis was now nearly expended, he 
 hesitated not to accept the sum of two hundred 
 guilders ; and by doing so took a great weight from 
 the mind of Pavilion, who considered the desperate 
 
92 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 transaction in which he thus voluntarily became the 
 creditor, as an atonement for the breach of hospi- 
 tality which various considerations in a great mea- 
 sure compelled him to commit. 
 
 Having carefully locked his treasure-chamber, 
 the wealthy Fleming next conveyed his guest to 
 the parlour, where, in full possession of her acti- 
 vity of mind and body, though pale from the scenes 
 of the preceding night, he found the Countess attired 
 in the fashion of a Flemish maiden of the middling 
 class. No other was present excepting Trudchen, 
 who was sedulously employed in completing the 
 Countess's dress, and instructing her how to bear 
 herself. She extended her hand to him, which, 
 when he had reverently kissed, she said to him, 
 " Seignior Quentin, we must leave our friends here, 
 unless I would bring on them a part of the misery 
 which has pursued me ever since my father's death. 
 You must change your dress and go with me, 
 unless you also are tired of befriending a being so 
 unfortunate." 
 
 " I ! I tired of being your attendant ! To the 
 end of the earth will I guard you ! But you you 
 yourself are you equal to the task you undertake ? 
 Can you, after the terrors of last night " 
 
 " Do not recall them to my memory," answered 
 the Countess ; " I remember but the confusion 
 of a horrid dream. Has the excellent Bishop 
 escaped ? " 
 
 " I trust he is in freedom," said Quentin, making 
 a sign to Pavilion, who seemed about to enter on 
 the dreadful narrative, to be silent. 
 
 "Is it possible for us to rejoin him ? Hath he 
 gathered any power ? " said the lady. 
 
 "His only hopes are in Heaven," said the Scot; 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 93 
 
 "but wherever you wish to go, I stand by your 
 side, a determined guide and guard." 
 
 "We will consider," said Isabelle; and after a 
 moment's pause, she added, " A convent would be 
 my choice, but that I fear it would prove a weak 
 defence against those who pursue me." 
 
 Hem ! hem I " said the Syndic ; " I could not 
 well recommend a convent within the district of 
 Liege; because the Boar of Ardennes, though in 
 the main a brave leader, a trusty confederate, and 
 a well-wisher to our city, has, nevertheless, rough 
 humours, and payeth, on the whole, little regard 
 to cloisters, convents, nunneries, and the like. Men 
 say that there are a score of nuns that is, 
 such as were nuns who march always with his 
 company." 
 
 "Get yourself in readiness hastily, Seignior 
 Durward," said Isabelle, interrupting this detail, 
 " since to your faith I must needs commit myself." 
 
 No sooner had the Syndic and Quentin left the 
 room, than Isabelle began to ask of Gertrude various 
 questions concerning the roads, and so forth, with 
 such clearness of spirit and pertinence, that the 
 latter could not help exclaiming, " Lady, I won- 
 der at you ! I have heard of masculine firmness, 
 but yours appears to me more than belongs to 
 humanity." 
 
 " Necessity," answered the Countess " neces- 
 sity, my friend, is the mother of courage, as of 
 invention. No long time since, I might have fainted 
 when I saw a drop of blood shed from a trifling cut 
 I have since seen life-blood flow around me, I 
 may say, in waves, yet I have retained my senses 
 and my self-possession. Do not think it was an 
 easy task," she added, laying on Gertrude's arm a 
 
94 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 trembling hand, although she still spoke with a 
 firm voice ; " the little world within me is like a 
 garrison besieged by a thousand foes, whom nothing 
 but the most determined resolution can keep from 
 storming it on every hand, and at every moment. 
 Were my situation one whit less perilous than it 
 is were I not sensible that my only chance to 
 escape a fate more horrible than death, is to retain 
 my recollection and self-possession Gertrude, I 
 would at this moment throw myself into your arms, 
 and relieve my bursting bosom by such a transport 
 of tears and agony of terror, as never rushed from a 
 breaking heart ! ? 
 
 "Do not do so, lady!" said the sympathizing 
 Fleming ; " take courage, tell your beads, throw 
 yourself on the care of Heaven ; and surely, if ever 
 Heaven sent a deliverer to one ready to perish, that 
 bold and adventurous young gentleman must be 
 designed for yours. There is one, too," she added, 
 blushing deeply, " in whom I have some interest. 
 Say nothing to my father ; but I have ordered my 
 bachelor, Hans Glover, to wait for you at the east- 
 ern gate, and never to see my face more, unless he 
 brings word that he has guided you safe from the 
 territory." 
 
 To kiss her tenderly was the only way in which 
 the young Countess could express her thanks to the 
 frank and kind-hearted city-maiden, who returned 
 the embrace affectionately, and added, with a smile, 
 " Nay, if two maidens and their devoted bachelors 
 cannot succeed in a disguise and an escape, the 
 world is changed from what I am told it wont 
 to be." 
 
 A part of this speech again called the colour into 
 the Countess's pale cheeks, which was not lessened 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 95 
 
 by Quentin's sudden appearance. He entered com- 
 pletely attired as a Flemish boor of the better class* 
 in the holyday suit of Peter, who expressed his in- 
 terest in the young Scot by the readiness with which 
 he parted with it for his use ; and swore, at the 
 same time, that, were he to be curried and tugged 
 worse than ever was bullock's hide, they should 
 make nothing out of him, to the betraying of the 
 young folks. Two stout horses had been provided 
 by the activity of Mother Mabel, who really desired 
 the Countess and her attendant no harm, so that 
 she could make her own house and family clear of 
 the dangers which might attend upon harbouring 
 them. She beheld them mount and go off with 
 great satisfaction, after telling them that they would 
 find their way to the east gate by keeping their eye 
 on Peter, who was to walk in that direction as their 
 guide, but without holding any visible communica- 
 tion with them. 
 
 The instant her guests had departed, Mother 
 Mabel took the opportunity to read a long practi- 
 cal lecture to Trudchen upon the folly of reading 
 romances, whereby the flaunting ladies of the Court 
 were grown so bold and venturous, that, instead of 
 applying to learn some honest housewifery, they 
 must ride, forsooth, a damsel-erranting through the 
 country, with no better attendant than some idle 
 squire, debauched page, or rake-helly archer from 
 foreign parts, to the great danger of their health, 
 the impoverishing of their substance, and the irre- 
 parable prejudice of their reputation. 
 
 All this Gertrude heard in silence, and without 
 reply; but, considering her character, it might be 
 doubted whether she derived from it the practical in- 
 ference which it was her mother's purpose to enforce. 
 
96 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 Meantime, the travellers had gained the eastern 
 gate of the city, traversing crowds of people, who 
 were fortunately too much busied in the political 
 events and rumours of the hour, to give any atten- 
 tion to a couple who had so little to render their 
 appearance remarkable. They passed the guards 
 in virtue of a permission obtained for them by 
 Pavilion, but in the name of his colleague Eous- 
 laer, and they took leave of Peter Geislaer with a 
 friendly though brief exchange of good wishes on 
 either side. Immediately afterwards, they were 
 joined by a stout young man, riding a good grey 
 horse, who presently made himself known as Hans 
 Glover, the bachelor of Trudchen Pavilion. He 
 was a young fellow with a good Flemish counte- 
 nance not, indeed, of the most intellectual cast, 
 but arguing more hilarity and good-humour than 
 wit, and, as the Countess could not help thinking, 
 scarce worthy to be bachelor to the generous Trud- 
 chen. He seemed, however, fully desirous to 
 second the views which she had formed in their 
 favour; for, saluting them respectfully, he asked 
 of the Countess in Flemish, on which road she 
 desired to be conducted ? 
 
 " Guide me," said she, " towards the nearest town 
 on the frontiers of Brabant." 
 
 "You have then settled the end and object of 
 your journey ? " said Quentin, approaching his horse 
 to that of Isabelle, and speaking French, which 
 their guide did not understand. 
 
 " Surely," replied the young lady ; " for, situ- 
 ated as T now am, it must be of no small detriment 
 to me if I were to prolong a journey in my present 
 circumstances, even though the termination should 
 be a rigorous prison." 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 97 
 
 ** A prison ! " said Quentin. 
 
 " Yes, my friend, a prison ; but I will take care 
 that you shall not share it." 
 
 "Do not talk do not think of me," said Quen- 
 tin, "Saw I you but safe, my own concerns are 
 little worth minding." 
 
 " Do not speak so loud," said the Lady Isabelle ; 
 you will surprise our guide you see he has al- 
 ready rode on before us ; " for, in truth, the good- 
 natured Fleming, doing as he desired to be done 
 by, had removed from them the constraint of a 
 third person, upon Quentin's first motion towards 
 the lady. " Yes," she continued, when she noticed 
 they were free from observation, " to you, my friend, 
 my protector why should I be ashamed to call 
 you what Heaven has made you to me ? to you 
 it is my duty to say, that my resolution is taken to 
 return to my native country, and to throw myself 
 on the mercy of the Duke of Burgundy. It was 
 mistaken, though well-meant advice, which induced 
 me ever to withdraw from his protection, and place 
 myself under that of the crafty and false Louis of 
 France." 
 
 " And you resolve to become the bride, then, of 
 the Count of Campo-basso, the unworthy favourite 
 of Charles?" 
 
 Thus spoke Quentin, with a voice in which in- 
 ternal agony struggled with his desire to assume 
 an indifferent tone, like that of the poor condemned 
 criminal, when, affecting a firmness which he is 
 far from feeling, he asks if the death-warrant be 
 arrived. 
 
 " No, Durward, no," said the Lady Isabelle, 
 sitting up erect in her saddle, " to that hated con- 
 dition all Burgundy's power shall not sink a 
 
 TOL. II. 7 
 
98 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 daughter of the House of Croye. Burgundy may 
 seize on my lands and fiefs, he may imprison my 
 person in a convent ; but that is the worst I have 
 to expect ; arid worse than that I will endure ere I 
 give my hand to Campo-basso." 
 
 " The worst ! " said Quentin ; " and what worse 
 can there be than plunder and imprisonment? 
 Oh, think, while you have God's free air around 
 you, and one by your side who will hazard life to 
 conduct you to England, to Germany, even to Scot- 
 land, in all of which you shall find generous pro- 
 tectors O, while this is the case, do not resolve 
 so rashly to abandon the means of liberty, the best 
 gift that Heaven gives ! 0, well sung a poet of 
 my own land (a) 1 
 
 'Ah, freedom is a noble thing -r- 
 Freedom makes man to have liking 
 Freedom the zest to pleasure gives 
 He lives at ease who freely lives. 
 Grief, sickness, poortith, want, are all 
 Summ'd up within the name of thrall.' w 
 
 She listened with a melancholy smile to her 
 guide's tirade in praise of liberty ; and then an- 
 swered after a moment's pause, " Freedom is for 
 man alone woman must ever seek a protector, 
 since nature made her incapable to defend herself. 
 And where am I to find one ? In that voluptuary 
 Edward of England in the inebriated Wenceslaus 
 of Germany in Scotland ? Ah, Durward, were 
 I your sister, and could you promise me shelter in 
 some of those mountain-glens which you love to 
 describe, where, for charity, or for the few jewels 
 
 1 See Editor's Notes at the end of the Volume. Wherever a 
 similar reference occurs, the reader will understand that the same 
 direction applies. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 99 
 
 I have preserved, I might lead an unharassed life, 
 and forget the lot I was born to Could you pro- 
 mise me the protection of some honoured matron 
 of the land of some baron whose heart was as 
 true as his sword that were indeed a prospect, for 
 which it were worth the risk of farther censure to 
 wander farther and wider ! " 
 
 There was a faltering tenderness of voice with 
 which the Countess Isabelle made this admission, 
 that at once filled Quentin with a sensation of joy, 
 and cut him to the very heart. He hesitated a 
 moment ere he made an answer, hastily reviewing 
 in his mind the possibility there might be that he 
 could procure her shelter in Scotland ; but the mel- 
 ancholy truth rushed on him, that it would be alike 
 base and cruel to point out to her a course, which 
 he had not the most distant power or means to ren- 
 der safe. " Lady," he said at last, " I should act 
 foully against my honour and oath of chivalry, did 
 I suffer you to ground any plan upon the thoughts 
 that I have the power in Scotland to afford you 
 other protection than that of the poor arm which 
 is now by your side. I scarce know that my blood 
 flows in the veins of an individual who now lives 
 in my native land. The Knight of Innerquharity 
 stormed our castle at midnight, and cut off all that 
 belonged to my name. Were I again in Scotland, 
 our feudal enemies are numerous and powerful, I 
 single and weak ; and even had the King a desire 
 to do me justice, he dared not, for the sake of re- 
 dressing the wrongs of a poor individual, provoke a 
 chief who rides with five hundred horse." 
 
 " Alas ! " said the Countess, " there is then no 
 corner of the world safe from oppression, since it 
 rages as unrestrained amongst those wild hills 
 
too QUENTIN DURWAKB. 
 
 which afford so few objects to covet, as in our rich 
 and abundant Lowlands ! " 
 
 "It is a sad truth, and I dare not deny it," said 
 the Scot, "that, for little more than the pleasure 
 of revenge and the lust of bloodshed, our hostile 
 clans do the work of executioners on each other; 
 and Ogilvies and the like act the same scenes in 
 Scotland, as De la Marck and his robbers do in this 
 country." 
 
 " No more of Scotland, then," said Isabelle, with 
 a tone of indifference, either real or affected " no 
 more of Scotland, which indeed I mentioned but 
 in jest, to see if you really dared recommend to me, 
 as a place of rest, the most distracted kingdom in 
 Europe. It was but a trial of your sincerity, which 
 I rejoice to see may be relied on, even when your 
 partialities are most strongly excited. So, once 
 more, I will think of no other protection than can 
 be afforded by the first honourable baron holding of 
 Duke Charles, to whom I am determined to render 
 myself." 
 
 "And why not rather betake yourself to your 
 own estates, and to your own strong castle, as you 
 designed when at Tours ? " said Quentin. " Why 
 not call around you the vassals of your father, and 
 make treaty with Burgundy, rather than surrender 
 yourself to him? Surely there must be many a 
 bold heart that would fight in your cause ; and I 
 know at least of one, who would willingly lay down 
 his life to give example." 
 
 "Alas!" said the Countess, "that scheme, the 
 suggestion of the crafty Louis, and, like all which 
 he ever suggested, designed more for his advantage 
 than for mine, has become impracticable, since it 
 was betrayed to Burgundy by the double traitor 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. ioi 
 
 Zamet Maugrabin. My kinsman was then impri- 
 soned, and my houses garrisoned. Any attempt of 
 mine would but expose my dependents to the ven- 
 geance of Duke Charles ; and why should I occasion 
 more bloodshed than has already taken place on so 
 worthless an account? No, I will submit myself 
 to my Sovereign as a dutiful vassal, in all which 
 shall leave my personal freedom of choice unin- 
 fringed ; the rather that I trust my kinswoman, 
 the Countess Hameline, who first counselled, and 
 indeed urged my flight, has already taken this wise 
 and honourable step." 
 
 " Your kinswoman ! " repeated Quentin, awakened 
 to recollections to which the young Countess was a 
 stranger, and which the rapid succession of perilous 
 and stirring events, had, as matters of nearer con- 
 cern, in fact banished from his memory. 
 
 " Ay my aunt the Countess Hameline of 
 Croye know you aught of her ? " said the Coun- 
 tess Isabelle ; " I trust she is now under the protec- 
 tion of the Burgundian banner. You are silent.' 
 Know you aught of her?" 
 
 The last question, urged in a tone of the most 
 anxious enquiry, obliged Quentin to give some ac- 
 count of what he knew of the Countess's fate. He 
 mentioned, that he had been summoned to attend 
 her in a flight from Liege, which he had no doubt 
 the Lady Isabelle would be partaker in he men- 
 tioned the discovery that had been made after they 
 had gained the forest and finally, he told his own 
 return to the castle, and the circumstances in which 
 he found it. But he said nothing of the views with 
 which it was plain the Lady Hameline had left the 
 Castle of Schonwaldt, and as little about the float- 
 ing report of her having fallen into the hands of 
 
102 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 William de la Marck. Delicacy prevented his even 
 hinting at the one, and regard for the feelings of his 
 companion, at a moment when strength and exer- 
 tion were most demanded of her, prevented him 
 from alluding to the latter, which had, besides, only 
 reached him as a mere rumour. 
 
 This tale, though abridged of those important par- 
 ticulars, made a strong impression on the Countess 
 Isabelle, who, after riding some time in silence, said 
 at last, with a tone of cold displeasure, " And so you 
 abandoned my unfortunate relative in a wild forest, 
 at the mercy of a vile Bohemian and a traitorous 
 waiting- woman? Poor kinswoman, thou wert wont 
 to praise this youth's good faith ! " 
 
 "Had I not done so, madam," said Quentin, not 
 unreasonably offended at the turn thus given to 
 his gallantry, " what had been the fate of one to 
 whose service I was far more devoutly bound? 
 Had I not left the Countess Hameline of Croye to 
 the charge of those whom she had herself selected 
 as counsellors and advisers, the Countess Isabelle 
 had been ere now the bride of William de la Marck, 
 the Wild Boar of Ardennes." 
 
 " You are right," said the Countess Isabelle, in 
 her usual manner ; " and I, who have the advantage 
 of your unhesitating devotion, have done you foul 
 and ungrateful wrong. But oh, my unhappy kins- 
 woman ! and the wretch Marthon, who enjoyed so 
 much of her confidence, and deserved it so little 
 it was she that introduced to my kinswoman the 
 wretched Zamet and Hayraddin Maugrabin, who, 
 by their pretended knowledge in soothsaying and 
 astrology, obtained a great ascendency over her 
 mind; it was she who, strengthening their predic- 
 tions, encouraged her in I know not what to call 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 103 
 
 them delusions concerning matches and lovers, 
 which my kinswoman's age rendered ungraceful 
 and improbable. I doubt not that, from the begin- 
 ning, we had been surrounded by these snares by 
 Louis of France, in order to determine us to take 
 refuge at his Court, or rather to put ourselves into 
 his power; after which rash act on our part, how 
 unkingly, unknightly, ignobly, ungentlemanlike, he 
 hath conducted himself towards us, you, Quentin 
 Durward, can bear witness. But alas ! my kins- 
 woman what think you will be her fate ? " 
 
 Endeavouring to inspire hopes which he scarce 
 felt, Durward answered, that the avarice of these 
 people was stronger than any other passion; that 
 Marthon, even when he left them, seemed to act 
 rather as the Lady Hameline's protectress ; and, in 
 fine, that it was difficult to conceive any object these 
 wretches could accomplish by the ill usage or murder 
 of the Countess, whereas they might be gainers by 
 treating her well, and putting her to ransom. 
 
 To lead the Countess Isabelle's thoughts from 
 this melancholy subject, Quentin frankly told her 
 the treachery of the Maugrabin, which he had dis- 
 covered in the night-quarter near Namur, and which 
 appeared the result of an agreement betwixt the 
 King and William de la Marck. Isabelle shud- 
 dered with horror, and then recovering herself, 
 said, * I am ashamed, and I have sinned in permit- 
 ting myself so far to doubt of the saints' protection, 
 as for an instant to have deemed possible the ac- 
 complishment of a scheme so utterly cruel, base, 
 and dishonourable, while there are pitying eyes in 
 Heaven to look down on human miseries. It is not 
 a thing to be thought of with fear or abhorrence, 
 but to be rejected as such a piece of incredible 
 
io 4 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 treachery and villainy, as it were atheism to believe 
 could ever be successful. But I now see plainly 
 why that hypocritical Marthon often seemed to 
 foster every seed of petty jealousy or discontent 
 betwixt my poor kinswoman and myself, whilst she 
 always mixed with flattery, addressed to the indi- 
 vidual who was present, whatever could prejudice 
 her against her absent kinswoman. Yet never did 
 I dream she could have proceeded so far as to have 
 caused my once affectionate kinswoman to have left 
 me behind in the perils of Schonwaldt, while she 
 made her own escape." 
 
 " Did the Lady Hameline not mention to you, 
 then," said Quentin, " her intended flight ? " 
 
 " No," replied the Countess, " but she alluded to 
 some communication which Marthon was to make 
 to me. To say truth, my poor kinswoman's head 
 was so turned by the mysterious jargon of the 
 miserable Hayraddin, whom that day she had ad- 
 mitted to a long and secret conference, and she 
 threw out so many strange hints, that that in 
 short, I cared not to press on her, when in that 
 humour, for any explanation. Yet it was cruel to 
 leave me behind her." 
 
 " I will excuse the Lady Hameline from intend- 
 ing such unkindness," said Quentin ; " for such was 
 the agitation of the moment, and the darkness of 
 the hour, that I believe the Lady Hameline as 
 certainly conceived herself accompanied by her 
 niece, as I at the same time, deceived by Marthon's 
 dress and demeanour, supposed I was in the com- 
 pany of both the Ladies of Croye : and of her 
 especially," he added, with a low but determined 
 voice, " without whom the wealth of worlds would 
 not have tempted me to leave Schonwaldt." 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 105 
 
 Isabelle stooped her head forward, and seemed 
 scarce to hear the emphasis with which Quentin 
 had spoken. But she turned her face to him again 
 when he began to speak of the policy of Louis ; 
 and it was not difficult for them, by mutual com- 
 munication, to ascertain that the Bohemian brothers, 
 with their accomplice Marthon, had been the agents 
 of that crafty monarch, although Zamet, the elder 
 of them, with a perfidy peculiar to his race, had 
 attempted to play a double game, and had been 
 punished accordingly. In the same humour of 
 mutual confidence, and forgetting the singularity 
 of their own situation, as well as the perils of the 
 road, the travellers pursued their journey for several 
 hours, only stopping to refresh their horses at a 
 retired dorff, or hamlet, to which they were con- 
 ducted by Hans Glover, who, in all other respects, 
 as well as in leaving them much to their own free- 
 dom in conversation, conducted himself like a per- 
 son of reflection and discretion. 
 
 Meantime, the artificial distinction which divided 
 the two lovers, (for such we may now term them,) 
 seemed dissolved, or removed, by the circumstances 
 in which they were placed ; for if the Countess 
 boasted the higher rank, and was by birth entitled 
 to a fortune incalculably larger than that of, the 
 youth, whose revenue lay in his sword, it was to be 
 considered that, for the present, she was as poor as 
 he, and for her safety, honour, and life, exclusively 
 indebted to his presence of mind, valour, and devo- 
 tion. They spoke not indeed of love, for though the 
 young lady, her heart full of gratitude and confi- 
 dence, might have pardoned such a declaration, yet 
 Quentin, on whose tongue there was laid a check, 
 both by natural timidity and by the sentiments of 
 
io6 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 chivalry, would have held it an unworthy abuse of 
 her situation had he said any thing which could 
 have the appearance of taking undue advantage of 
 the opportunities which it afforded them. They 
 spoke not then of love, but the thoughts of it were 
 on both sides unavoidable ; and thus they were 
 placed in that relation to each other, in which sen- 
 timents of mutual regard are rather understood than 
 announced, and which, with the freedoms which it 
 permits, and the uncertainties that attend it, often 
 forms the most delightful hours of human existence, 
 and as frequently leads to those which are darkened 
 by disappointment, fickleness, and all the pains of 
 blighted hope and unrequited attachment. 
 
 It was two hours after noon, when the travellers 
 were alarmed by the report of the guide, who, with 
 paleness and horror in his countenance, said that 
 they were pursued by a party of De la Marck's 
 Schwarz-reiters. These soldiers, or rather banditti, 
 were bands levied in the Lower Circles of Germany, 
 and resembled the lanzknechts in every particular, 
 except that the former acted as light cavalry. To 
 maintain the name of Black Troopers, and to strike 
 additional terror into their enemies, they usually 
 rode on black chargers, and smeared with black 
 ointment their arms and accoutrements, in which 
 operation their hands and faces often had their 
 share. In morals and in ferocity these Schwarz- 
 reiters emulated their pedestrian brethren the 
 lanzknechts. 1 
 
 On looking back, and discovering along the long 
 level road which they had traversed a cloud of dust 
 advancing, with one or two of the headmost troop- 
 ers riding furiously in front of it, Quentin addressed 
 
 1 Note II. Schwarz-reiters. 
 
QUENTIN DURWAKD. 107 
 
 his companion " Dearest Isabelle, I have no 
 weapon left save my sword ; but since I cannot 
 fight for you, I will fly with you. Could we gain 
 yonder wood that is before us ere they come up, we 
 may easily find means to escape." 
 
 " So be it, my only friend," said Isabelle, press- 
 ing her horse to the gallop ; " and thou, good fel- 
 low," she added, addressing Hans Glover, " get thee 
 off to another road, and do not stay to partake our 
 misfortune and danger." 
 
 The honest Fleming shook his head, and answered 
 her generous exhortation, with Nein, nein ! das geht 
 nichts, 1 and continued to attend them, all three 
 riding towards the shelter of the wood as fast as 
 their jaded horses could go, pursued, at the same 
 time, by the Schwarz-reiters, who increased their 
 pace when they saw them fly. But notwithstand- 
 ing the fatigue of the horses, still the fugitives, 
 being unarmed, and riding lighter in consequence, 
 had considerably the advantage of the pursuers, 
 and were within about a quarter of a mile of the 
 wood, when a body of men-at-arms, under a knight's 
 pennon, was discovered advancing from the cover, 
 so as to intercept their flight. 
 
 " They have bright armour," said Tsabelle ; " they 
 must be Burgundians. Be they who they will, we 
 must yield to them, rather than to the lawless mis- 
 creants who pursue us." 
 
 A moment after, she exclaimed, looking on the 
 pennon, "I know the cloven heart which it dis- 
 plays ! It is the banner of the Count of Crevecceur, a 
 noble Burgundian to him I will surrender myself." 
 
 Quentin Durward sighed; but what other alter- 
 native remained? and how happy would he have 
 
 1 " No, no ! that must not be " 
 
io8 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 been but an instant before, to have been certain ot 
 the escape of Isabelle, even under worse terms ? 
 They soon joined the band of Crevecceur, and the 
 Countess demanded to speak to the leader, who had 
 halted his party till he should reconnoitre the Black 
 Troopers ; and as he gazed on her with doubt and 
 uncertainty, she said, " Noble Count, Isabelle of 
 Croye, the daughter of your old companion in arms, 
 Count Eeinold of Croye, renders herself, and asks 
 protection from your valour for her and hers." 
 
 " Thou shalt have it, fair kinswoman, were it 
 against a host always excepting my liege Lord 
 of Burgundy. But there is little time to talk of it. 
 These filthy-looking fiends have made a halt, as if 
 they intended to dispute the matter. By Saint 
 George of Burgundy, they have the insolence to 
 advance against the banner of Crevecceur ! What ! 
 will not the knaves be ruled ? Damian, my lance 
 Advance banner Lay your spears in the rest 
 Crevecceur to the Eescue ! " 
 
 Crying his war-cry, and followed by his men-at- 
 arms, he galloped rapidly forward to charge the 
 Schwarz-reiters. 
 
CHAPTEK VII. 
 
 THE SURRENDER. 
 
 Rescue or none, Sir Knight, I am your captive ; 
 Deal with me what your nobleness suggests 
 Thinking the chance of war may one day place you 
 Where I must now be reckon'd i' the roll 
 Of melancholy prisoners. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 The skirmish betwixt the Schwarz-reiters and 
 the Burgundian men-at-arms lasted scarcely five 
 minutes, so soon were the former put to the rout 
 by the superiority of the latter, in armour, weight 
 of horse, and military spirit. In less than the 
 space we have mentioned, the Count of Crevecceur, 
 wiping his bloody sword upon his horse's mane ere 
 he sheathed it, came back to the verge of the forest, 
 where Isabelle had remained a spectator of the com- 
 bat. One part of his people followed him, while 
 the other continued to pursue the flying enemy for 
 a little space along the causeway. 
 
 " It is shame," said the Count, " that the weapons 
 of knights and gentlemen should be soiled by the 
 blood of those brutal swine." 
 
 So saying, he returned his weapon to the sheath, 
 and added, "This is a rough welcome to your 
 home, my pretty cousin, but wandering princesses 
 must expect such adventures. And well I came up 
 in time, for, let me assure you, the Black , Troopers 
 respect a countess's coronet as little as a country- 
 
no QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 wench's coif, and I think your retinue is not quali- 
 fied for much resistance." 
 
 " My Lord Count," said the Lady Isabella 
 " without farther preface, let me know if I am a 
 prisoner, and where you are to conduct me." 
 
 " You know, you silly child," answered the 
 Count, "how I would answer that question, did 
 it rest on my own will. But you and your foolish 
 match-making, marriage-hunting aunt, have made 
 such wild use of your wings of late, that I fear you 
 must be contented to fold them up in a cage for a 
 little while. For my part, my duty, and it is a 
 sad one, will be ended when I have conducted you 
 to the Court of the Duke, at Peronne ; for which 
 purpose, I hold it necessary to deliver the com- 
 mand of this reconnoitring party to my nephew, 
 Count Stephen, while I return with you thither, 
 as I think you may need an intercessor And I 
 hope the young giddy-pate will discharge his duty 
 wisely." 
 
 ".So please you, fair uncle," said Count Stephen, 
 " if you doubt my capacity to conduct the men-at- 
 arms, even remain with them yourself, and I will 
 be the servant and guard of the Countess Isabelle 
 of Croye." 
 
 "No doubt, fair nephew," answered his uncle, 
 " this were a goodly improvement on my scheme ; 
 but methinks I like it as well in the way I planned 
 it. Please you, therefore, to take notice, that your 
 business here is not to hunt after and stick these 
 black hogs, for which you seemed but now to have 
 felt an especial vocation, but to collect and bring 
 to me true tidings what is going forward in the 
 country of Liege, concerning which we hear such 
 wild rumours. Let some half score of lances follow 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. in 
 
 me, and the rest remain with my banner, under 
 your guidance." 
 
 " Yet one moment, cousin of Crevecoeur," said 
 the Countess Isabelle, " and let me, in yielding 
 myself prisoner, stipulate at least for the safety of 
 those who have befriended me in my misfortunes. 
 Permit this good fellow, my trusty guide, to go 
 back unharmed to his native town of Liege." 
 
 " My nephew," said Crevecoeur, after looking 
 sharply at Glover's honest breadth of countenance, 
 " shall guard this good fellow, who seems, indeed, 
 to have little harm in him, as far into the terri- 
 tory as he himself advances, and then leave him at 
 liberty." 
 
 " Fail not to remember me to the kind Gertrude," 
 said the Countess to her guide, and added, taking 
 a string of pearls from under her veil, " Pray her to 
 wear this in remembrance of her unhappy friend." 
 
 Honest Glover took the string of pearls, and 
 kissed, with clownish gesture, but with sincere 
 kindness, the fair hand which had found such a 
 delicate mode of remunerating his own labours and 
 peril. 
 
 " Umph ! signs and tokens ! " said the Count ; 
 " any farther bequests to make* my fair cousin ? 
 It is time we were on our way." 
 
 " Only," said the Countess, making an effort to 
 speak, " that you will be pleased to be favourable 
 to this this young gentleman." 
 
 "Umph!" said Crevecoeur, casting the same 
 penetrating glance on Quentin which he had be- 
 stowed on Glover, but apparently with a much less 
 satisfactory result, and mimicking, though not offen- 
 sively, the embarrassment of the Countess 
 w Umph ! Ay, this is a blade of another temper, 
 
112 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 And pray, my cousin, what has this this very 
 young gentleman done, to deserve such intercession 
 at your hands ? " 
 
 " He has saved my life and honour," said the 
 Countess, reddening with shame and resentment. 
 
 Quentin also blushed with indignation, but wisely 
 concluded, that to give vent to it might only make 
 matters worse. 
 
 "Life and honour? Umph!" said again the 
 Count Crevecceur ; " methinks it would have been 
 as well, my cousin, if you had not put yourself in 
 the way of lying under such obligations to this very 
 young gentleman. But let it pass. The young 
 gentleman may wait on us, if his quality permit, 
 and T will see he has no injury only I will myself 
 take in future the office of protecting your life and 
 honour, and may perhaps find for him some fitter 
 duty than that of being a squire of the body to 
 damosels errant." 
 
 "My Lord Count," said Durward, unable to 
 keep silence any longer, " lest you should talk of a 
 stranger in slighter terms than you might after- 
 wards think becoming, I take leave to tell you, that 
 I am Quentin Durward, an Archer of the 'Scottish 
 Body-guard, in which, as you well know, none but 
 gentlemen and men of honour are enrolled." 
 
 " I thank you for your information, and I kiss 
 your hands, Seignior Archer," said Crevecceur, in the 
 same tone of raillery. " Have the goodness to ride 
 with me to the front of the party." 
 
 As Quentin moved onward at the command of 
 the Count, who had now the power, if not the right, 
 to dictate his motions, he observed that the Lady 
 Isabelle followed his motions with a look of anxious 
 and timid interest, which amounted almost to ten- 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 113 
 
 derness, and the sight of which brought water into 
 his eyes. But he remembered that he had a man's 
 part to sustain before Crevecoeur, who, perhaps of 
 all the chivalry in France or Burgundy, was the 
 least likely to be moved to any thing but laughter 
 by a tale of true-love sorrow. He determined, 
 therefore, not to wait his addressing him, but to 
 open the conversation in a tone which should assert 
 his claim to fair treatment, and to more respect 
 than the Count, offended perhaps at finding a per- 
 son of such inferior note placed so near the confi- 
 dence of his high-born and wealthy cousin, seemed 
 disposed to entertain for him. 
 
 "My Lord Count of Crevecoeur," he said, in a 
 temperate but firm tone of voice, " may I request 
 of you, before our interview goes farther, to tell me 
 if I am at liberty, or am to account myself your 
 prisoner ? " 
 
 " A shrewd question," replied the Count, " which, 
 at present, I can only answer by another Are 
 France and Burgundy, think you, at peace or war 
 with each other?" 
 
 " That," replied the Scot, " you, my lord, should 
 certainly know better than I. I have been absent 
 from the Court of France, and have heard no news 
 for some time." 
 
 " Look you there," said the Count ; " you see 
 how easy it is to ask questions, but how difficult to 
 answer them. Why, I myself, who have been at 
 Peronne with the Duke for this week and better, 
 cannot resolve this riddle any more than you ; and 
 yet, Sir Squire, upon the solution of that question 
 depends the said point, whether you are prisoner or 
 free man ; and, for the present, I must hold you as 
 the former Only, if you have really and honestly 
 
 OL. II. 8 
 
ii 4 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 been of service to my kinswoman, and if you are 
 candid in your answers to the questions I shall ask, 
 affairs shall stand the better with you." 
 
 " The Countess of Croye," said Quentin, " is best 
 judge if I have rendered any service, and to her 
 I refer you on that matter. My answers you 
 will yourself judge of when you ask me your 
 questions." 
 
 " Umph ! haughty enough," muttered the Count 
 of Crevecosur, " and very like one that wears a 
 lady's favour in his hat, and thinks he must carry 
 things with a high tone, to honour the precious 
 remnant of silk and tinsel. Well, sir, I trust it 
 will be no abatement of your dignity, if you answer 
 me, how long you have been about the person of 
 the Lady Isabelle of Croye ? " 
 
 "Count of Crevecoeur," said Quentin Durward, 
 " if I answer questions which are asked in a tone 
 approaching towards insult, it is only lest injurious 
 inferences should be drawn from my silence respect- 
 ing one to whom we are both obliged to render 
 justice. I have acted as escort to the Lady Isabelle 
 since she left France to retire into Flanders." 
 
 " Ho ! ho ! " said the Count ; " and that is to say, 
 since she fled from Plessis-les-Tours ? You, an 
 Archer of the Scottish Guard, accompanied her, of 
 course, by the express orders of King Louis ? " 
 
 However little Quentin thought himself indebted 
 to the King of France, who, in contriving the sur- 
 prisal of the Countess Isabelle by William de la 
 Marck, had probably calculated on the young 
 Scotchman being slain in her defence, he did not 
 yet conceive himself at liberty to betray any trust 
 which Louis had reposed, or had seemed to repose 
 in him, and therefore replied to Count Crevecoeur's 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 115 
 
 inference, " that it was sufficient for him to have 
 the authority of his superior officer for what he had 
 done, and he enquired no farther." 
 
 " It is quite sufficient," said the Count. " We 
 know the King does not permit his officers to send 
 the Archers of his Guard to prance like paladins 
 by the bridle-rein of wandering ladies, unless he 
 hath some politic purpose to serve. It will be diffi- 
 cult for King Louis to continue to aver so boldly, 
 that he knew not of the Ladies of Croye's having 
 escaped from France, since they were escorted by 
 one of his own Life-guard. And whither, Sir 
 Archer, was your retreat directed ?" 
 
 " To Liege, my lord," answered the Scot ; " where 
 the ladies desired to be placed under the protection 
 of the late Bishop." 
 
 "The late Bishop!" exclaimed the Count of 
 Crevecoeur ; " is Louis of Bourbon dead ? Not a 
 word of his illness had reached the Duke Of what 
 did he die ? " 
 
 " He sleeps in a bloody grave, my lord that 
 is, if his murderers have conferred one on his 
 remains." 
 
 " Murdered ! " exclaimed Crevecoeur again 
 " Holy Mother of Heaven ! young man, it is 
 impossible ! " 
 
 "I saw the deed done with my own eyes, and 
 many an act of horror besides." 
 
 " Saw it ! and made not in to help the good 
 Prelate ! " exclaimed the Count, " or to raise the 
 castle against his murderers ? Know'st thou not, 
 that even to look on such a deed, without resisting 
 it, is profane sacrilege ? " 
 
 " To be brief, my lord," said Durward, " ere 
 this act was done, the castle was stormed by the 
 
n6 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 blood-thirsty William de la Marck, with help of 
 the insurgent Liegeois." 
 
 " I am struck with thunder ! " said Crevecoeur. 
 " Liege in insurrection ! Schonwaldt taken ! the 
 Bishop murdered ! Messenger of sorrow, never 
 did one man unfold such a packet of woes ! 
 Speak knew you of this assault of this insur- 
 rection of this murder ? Speak thou art one 
 of Ltfuis's trusted Archers, and it is he that has 
 aimed this painful arrow. Speak, or I will have 
 thee torn with wild horses ! " 
 
 "And if I am so torn, my lord, there can be 
 nothing rent out of me, that may not become a 
 true Scottish gentleman. I know no more of these 
 villainies than you, was so far from being par- 
 taker in them, that I would have withstood them 
 to the uttermost, had my means, in a twentieth 
 degree, equalled my inclination. But what could I 
 do ? they were hundreds, and I but one. My 
 only care was to rescue the Countess Isabelle, and 
 in that I was happily successful. Yet, had I been 
 near enough when the ruffian deed was so cruelly 
 done on the old man, I had saved his grey hairs, 
 or I had avenged them ; and as it was, my abhor- 
 rence was spoken loud enough to prevent other 
 horrors." 
 
 " I believe thee, youth," said the Count ; " thou 
 art neither of an age nor nature to be trusted with 
 such bloody work, however well fitted to be the 
 squire of dames. But alas ! for the kind and gen- 
 erous Prelate, to be murdered on the hearth where 
 he so often entertained the stranger with Christian 
 charity and princely bounty and that by a wretch, 
 a monster ! a portentous growth of blood and 
 cruelty ! bred up in the very hall where he has 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 117 
 
 imbrued his hands in his benefactor's blood! But 
 I know not Charles of Burgundy nay, I should 
 doubt of the justice of Heaven, if vengeance be not 
 as sharp, and sudden,- and severe, as this villainy has 
 been unexampled in atrocity. And, if no other 
 shall pursue the murderer," here he paused, 
 grasped his sword, then quitting his bridle, struck 
 both gauntleted hands upon his breast, until his 
 corslet clattered, and finally held them up to Heaven, 
 as he solemnly continued "I I, Philip Creve- 
 cosur of Cordes, make a vow to God, Saint Lambert, 
 and the Three Kings of Cologne, that small shall be 
 my thought of other earthly concerns, till I take 
 full revenge on the murderers of the good Louis of 
 Bourbon, whether I find them in forest or field, in 
 city or in country, in hill or plain, in King's court, 
 or in God's church ! and thereto I pledge lands and 
 living, friends and followers, life and honour. So 
 help me God and Saint Lambert of Liege, and the 
 Three Kings of Cologne ! " 
 
 When the Count of Crevecoeur had made his 
 vow, his mind seemed in some sort relieved from 
 the overwhelming grief and astonishment with 
 which he had heard the fatal tragedy that had been 
 acted at Schonwaldt, and he proceeded to question 
 Durward more minutely concerning the particulars 
 of that disastrous affair, which the Scot, nowise 
 desirous to abate the spirit of revenge which the 
 Count entertained against William de la Marck, 
 gave him at full length. 
 
 "But those blind, unsteady, faithless, fickle 
 beasts, the Liegeois," said the Count, " that they 
 should have combined themselves with this inexor- 
 able robber and murderer, to put to death their 
 lawful Prince!" 
 
n8 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 Durward here informed the enraged Burgundian 
 that the Liegeois, or at least the better class of them, 
 however rashly they had run into the rebellion 
 against their Bishop, had no design, so far as 
 appeared to him, to aid in the execrable deed of 
 De la Marck ; but, on the contrary, would have 
 prevented it if they had had the means, and were 
 struck with horror when they beheld it. 
 
 " Speak not of the faithless, inconstant, plebeian 
 rabble ! " said Crevecceur. " When they took arms 
 against a Prince, who had no fault, save that he 
 was too kind and too good a master for such a set 
 of ungrateful slaves when they armed against 
 him, and broke into his peaceful house, what could 
 there be in their intention but murder? when 
 they banded themselves with the wild Boar of 
 Ardennes, the greatest homicide in the marches 
 of Flanders, what else could there be in their pur- 
 pose hut murder, which is the very trade he lives 
 by ? And again, was it not one of their own vile 
 rabble who did the very deed, by thine own account ? 
 I hope to see their canals running blood by the 
 light of their burning houses. Oh, the kind, noble, 
 generous lord, whom they have slaughtered ! Other 
 vassals have rebelled under the pressure of imposts 
 and penury ; but the men of Liege, in the fulness of 
 insolence and plenty." He again abandoned the 
 reins of his war-horse, and wrung bitterly the 
 hands, which his mail-gloves rendered untractabley 
 Quentin easily saw that the grief which he mani- 
 fested was augmented by the bitter recollection of 
 past intercourse and friendship with the sufferer, 
 and was silent accordingly ; respecting feelings 
 which he was unwilling to aggravate, and at the 
 same time felt it impossible to soothe. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 119 
 
 But the Count of Crevecoeur returned again and 
 again to the subject questioned him on every 
 particular of the surprise of Schonwaldt, and the 
 death of the Bishop ; and then suddenly, as if he 
 had recollected something which had escaped his 
 memory, demanded what had become of the Lady 
 Hameline, and why she was not with her kins- 
 woman ? " Not," he added contemptuously, " that 
 I consider her absence as at all a loss to the 
 Countess Isabelle ; for, although she was her kins- 
 woman, and upon the whole a well-meaning woman, 
 yet the Court of Cocagne never produced such a 
 fantastic fool ; and I hold it for certain, that her niece, 
 whom I have always observed to be a modest and 
 orderly young woman, was led into the absurd frolic 
 of flying from Burgundy to France, by that blunder- 
 ing, romantic, old, match-making and match-seeking 
 idiot ! " 
 
 What a speech for a romantic lover to hear! and 
 to hear, too, when it would have been ridiculous in 
 him to attempt what it was impossible for him to 
 achieve, namely, to convince the Count, by force 
 of arms, that he did foul wrong to the Countess 
 the peerless in sense as in beauty in terming her 
 a modest and orderly young woman ; qualities which 
 might have been predicated with propriety of the 
 daughter of a sunburnt peasant, who lived by goad- 
 ing the oxen, while her father held the plough. 
 And, then, to suppose her under the domination 
 and supreme guidance of a silly and romantic aunt 
 the slander should have been repelled down the 
 slanderer's throat. But the open, though severe, 
 physiognomy of the Count of Crevecoeur, the total 
 contempt which he seemed to entertain for those 
 teelings which were uppermost in Quentin's bosom, 
 
120 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 overawed him ; not for fear of the Count's fame in 
 arms that was a risk which would have increased 
 his desire of making out a challenge but in dread 
 of ridicule, the weapon of all others most feared by 
 enthusiasts of every description, and which, from 
 its predominance over such minds, often checks 
 what is absurd, and fully as often smothers that 
 which is noble. 
 
 Under the influence of this fear, of becoming an 
 object of scorn rather than resentment, Durward, 
 though with some pain, confined his reply to a con- 
 fused account of the Lady Hameline having made 
 her escape from Schonwaldt before the attack took 
 place. He could not, indeed, have made his story 
 very distinct, without throwing ridicule on the near 
 relation of Isabelle, and perhaps incurring some 
 himself, as having been the object of her preposte- 
 rous expectations. He added to his embarrassed 
 detail, that he had heard a report, though a vague 
 one, of the Lady Hameline having again fallen into 
 the hands of William de la Marck. 
 
 " I trust in Saint Lambert that he will marry 
 her," said Crevecoeur; "as, indeed, he is likely 
 enough to do, for the sake of her money-bags ; and 
 equally likely to knock her on the head, so soon 
 as these are either secured in his own grasp, or, at 
 farthest, emptied." 
 
 The Count then proceeded to ask so many ques- 
 tions concerning the mode in which both ladies had 
 conducted themselves on the journey, the degree 
 of intimacy to which they admitted Quentin him- 
 self, and other trying particulars, that, vexed and 
 ashamed and angry, the youth was scarce able to 
 conceal his embarrassment from the keen-sighted 
 soldier and courtier, who seemed suddenly disposed 
 
QUENTIN DURVVARD. 121 
 
 to take leave of him, saying, at the same time, 
 s * Umph I see it is as I conjectured, on one side 
 at least ; I trust the other party has kept her senses 
 better. Come, Sir Squire, spur on, and keep the 
 van, while I fall back to discourse with the Lady 
 Isabelle. I think I have learned now so much from 
 you, that I can talk to her of these sad passages 
 without hurting her nicety, though I have fretted 
 yours a little. Yet stay, young gallant one word 
 ere you go. You have had, I imagine, a happy 
 journey through Fairy-land all full of heroic ad- 
 venture, and high hope and wild minstrel-like delu- 
 sion, like the gardens of Morgaine la Fde. Forget 
 it all, young soldier," he added, tapping him on the 
 shoulder ; " remember yonder lady only as the 
 honoured Countess of Croye forget her as a wan- 
 dering and adventurous damsel : And her friends 
 one of them I can answer for will remember, 
 on their part, only the services you have done her, 
 and forget the unreasonable reward which you have 
 had the boldness to propose to yourself." 
 
 Enraged that he had been unable to conceal from 
 the sharp-sighted Crevecoeur feelings which the 
 Count seemed to consider as the object of ridicule, 
 Quentin replied, indignantly, " My Lord Count, 
 when I require advice of you, I will ask it ; when 
 I demand assistance of you, it will be time enough 
 to grant or refuse it; when I set peculiar value 
 on your opinion of me, it will not be too late to 
 express it." 
 
 "Heyday!" said the Count; "I have come be- 
 tween Amadis and Oriana, and must expect a chal- 
 lenge to the lists ! " 
 
 "You speak as if that were an impossibility," 
 said Quentin " When I broke a lance with the 
 
122 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 Duke of Orleans, it was against a breast in which 
 flowed better blood than that of Crevecceur When 
 I measured swords with Dunois, I engaged a better 
 warrior." 
 
 " Now Heaven nourish thy judgment, gentle 
 youth ! " said Crevecceur, still laughing at the chi- 
 valrous inamorato. " If thou speak'st truth, thou 
 hast had singular luck in this world ', and, truly, if 
 it be the pleasure of Providence exposes thee to 
 such trials, without a beard on thy lip, thou wilt 
 be mad with vanity ere thou writest thyself man. 
 Thou canst not move me to anger, though thou 
 mayst to mirth. Believe me, though thou mayst 
 have fought with Princes, and played the champion 
 for Countesses, by some of those freaks which For- 
 tune will sometimes exhibit, thou art by no means 
 the equal of those of whom thou hast been either 
 the casual opponent, or more casual companion. I 
 can allow thee, like a youth who hath listened to 
 romances till he fancied himself a Paladin, to form 
 pretty dreams for some time ; but thou must not be 
 angry at a well-meaning friend, though he shake thee 
 something roughly by the shoulders to awake thee." 
 
 "My Lord of Crevecceur," said Quentin, "my 
 family " 
 
 " Nay, it was not utterly of family that I spoke," 
 said the Count ; " but of rank, fortune, high station, 
 and so forth, which place a distance between vari- 
 ous degrees and classes of persons. As for birth, 
 all men are descended from Adam and Eve." 
 
 " My Lord Count," repeated Quentin, " my ances- 
 tors, the Durwards of Glen-houlakin " 
 
 " Nay," said the Count, " if you claim a farther 
 descent for them than from Adam, I have done I 
 Good-even to you." 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 123 
 
 He reined back his horse, and paused to join the 
 Countess, to whom, if possible, his insinuations and 
 advices, however well meant, were still more dis- 
 agreeable than to Quentin, who, as he rode on, 
 muttered to himself, " Cold-blooded, insolent, over- 
 weening coxcomb ! Would that the next Scottish 
 Archer who has his harquebuss pointed at thee, may 
 not let thee off so easily as I did ! " 
 
 In the evening they reached the town of Charleroi, 
 on the Sarnbre, where the Count of Crevecoeur had 
 determined to leave the Countess Isabelle, whom the 
 terror and fatigue of yesterday, joined to a flight of 
 fifty miles since morning, and the various distressing 
 sensations by which it was accompanied, had made 
 incapable of travelling farther, with safety to her 
 health. The Count consigned her, in a state of 
 great exhaustion, to the care of the Abbess of the 
 Cistercian convent in Charleroi, a noble lady, to 
 whom both the families of Crevecoeur and Croye 
 were related, and in whose prudence and kindness 
 he could repose confidence. 
 
 Crevecoeur himself only stopped to recommend 
 the utmost caution to the governor of a small Bur- 
 gundian garrison who occupied the place, and re- 
 quired him also to mount a guard of honour upon 
 the convent during the residence of the Countess 
 Isabelle of Croye, ostensibly to secure her safety, 
 but perhaps secretly to prevent her attempting to 
 escape. The Count only assigned as a cause for 
 the garrison being vigilant, some vague rumours 
 which he had heard of disturbances in the Bishopric 
 of Liege. But he was determined himself to be the 
 first who should carry the formidable news of the 
 insurrection and the murder of the Bishop, in all 
 their horrible reality, to Duke Charles ; and for 
 
124 * QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 that purpose, having procured fresh horses for him- 
 self and suite, he mounted with the resolution of 
 continuing his journey to Peronne without stopping 
 for repose; and informing Quentin Durward that 
 he must attend him, he made, at the same time, a 
 mock apology for parting fair company, but hoped, 
 that to so devoted a squire of dames a night's jour- 
 ney by moonshine would be more agreeable, than 
 supinely to yield himself to slumber like an ordi- 
 nary mortal. 
 
 Quentin, already sufficiently afflicted by finding 
 that he was to be parted from Isabelle, longed to 
 answer this taunt with an indignant defiance ; but 
 aware that the Count would only laugh at his anger, 
 and despise his challenge, he resolved to wait some 
 future time, when he might have an opportunity of 
 obtaining some amends from this proud lord, who, 
 though for very different reasons, had become nearly 
 as odious to him as the Wild Boar of Ardennes him- 
 self. He therefore assented to Crevecoeur's pro- 
 posal, as to what he had no choice of declining, and 
 they pursued in company, and with all the dispatch 
 they could exert, the road between Charleroi and 
 Peronne. 
 
CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 THE UNBIDDEN GUEST. 
 
 No human quality is so well wove 
 In warp and woof, but there's some flaw in it. 
 I've known a brave man fly a shepherd's cur, 
 A wise man so demean him, drivelling idiocy 
 Had wellnigh been ashamed on't. For your crafty, 
 Your worldly-wise man, he, above the rest, 
 Weaves his own snares so fine, he's often caught in them. 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 Quentin, during the earlier part of the night-journey, 
 had to combat with that bitter heart-ache, which is 
 felt when youth parts, and probably for ever, with 
 her he loves. As, pressed by the urgency of the 
 moment, and the impatience of Crevecceur, they 
 hasted on through the rich lowlands of Hainault, 
 under the benign guidance of a rich and lustrous 
 harvest-moon, she shed her yellow influence over 
 rich and deep pastures, woodland, and corn fields, 
 from which the husbandmen were using her light 
 to withdraw the grain, such was the industry of the 
 Flemings, even at that period ; she shone on broad, 
 level, and fructifying rivers, where glided the white 
 sail in the service of commerce, uninterrupted by 
 rock or .torrent, beside lovely quiet villages, whose 
 external decency and cleanliness expressed the ease 
 and comfort of the inhabitants; she gleamed upon 
 the feudal castle of many a gallant Baron and Knight, 
 
126 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 with its deep moat, battlemented court, and high 
 belfry, for the chivalry of Hainault was renowned 
 among the nobles of Europe ; and her light dis- 
 played at a distance, in its broad beam, the gigantic 
 towers of more than one lofty minster. 
 
 Yet all this fair variety, however differing from 
 the waste and wilderness of his own land, inter- 
 rupted not the course of Quentin's regrets and 
 sorrows. He had left his heart behind him, when 
 he departe'd from Charleroi ; and the only reflection 
 which the farther journey inspired was, that every 
 step was carrying him farther from Isabelle. His 
 imagination was taxed to recall every word she had 
 spoken, every look she had directed towards him ; 
 and, as happens frequently in such cases, the im-^7 
 pression made upon his imagination by the recol-j 
 lection of these particulars, was even stronger than J 
 the realities themselves had excited. ' 
 
 At length, after the cold hour of midnight was 
 past, in spite alike of love and of sorrow, the ex- 
 treme fatigue which Quentin had undergone the 
 two preceding days began to have an effect on him, 
 which his habits of exercise of every kind, and his 
 singular alertness and activity of character, as well 
 as the painful nature of the reflections which occu- 
 pied his thoughts, had hitherto prevented his ex- 
 periencing. The ideas of his mind began to be so 
 little corrected by the exertions of his senses, worn- 
 out and deadened as the latter now were by 
 extremity of fatigue, that the visions which the 
 former drew superseded or perverted the informa- 
 tion conveyed by the blunted organs of seeing and 
 hearing ; and Durward was only sensible that he 
 was awake, by the exertions which, sensible of the 
 peril of his situation, he occasionally made, to resist 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 127 
 
 falling into a deep and dead sleep. Every now and 
 then, a strong consciousness of the risk of falling 
 from or with his horse roused him to exertion and 
 animation ; but ere long his eyes again were dimmed 
 by confused shades of all sorts of mingled colours, 
 the moonlight landscape swam before them, and he 
 was so much overcome with fatigue, that the Count 
 of Crevecceur, observing his condition, was at length 
 compelled to order two of his attendants, one to 
 each rein of Durward's bridle, in order to prevent 
 the risk of his falling from his horse. 
 
 When at length they reached the town of 
 Landrecy, the Count, in compassion to the youth, 
 who had now been in a great measure with- 
 out sleep for three nights, allowed himself and 
 his retinue a halt of four hours for rest and 
 refreshment. 
 
 Deep and sound were Quentin's slumbers, until 
 they were broken r by the sound of the Count's 
 trumpet, and the cry of his Foiiriers and harbin- 
 gers, " De'bout ! de'bout ! Ha ! Messires, en route, 
 en route ! " Yet, unwelcomely early as the tones 
 came, they awaked him a different being in strength 
 and spirits from what he had fallen asleep. Con- 
 fidence in himself and his fortunes returned with 
 his reviving spirits, and with the rising sun. He 
 thought of his love no longer as a desperate and 
 fantastic dream, but as a high and invigorating 
 principle, to be cherished in his bosom, although 
 he might never propose to himself, under all the 
 difficulties by which he was beset, to bring it to 
 any prosperous issue. " The pilot," he reflected, 
 " steers his bark by the polar star, although he 
 never expects to become possessor of it ; and the 
 thoughts of Isabelle of Croye shall make me a 
 
128 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 worthy man-at-arms, though I may never see her 
 more. When she hears that a Scottish soldier, 
 named Quentin Durward, distinguished himself in 
 a well-fought field, or left his body on the breach 
 of a disputed fortress, she will remember the com- 
 panion of her journey, as one who did all in his 
 power to avert the snares and misfortunes which 
 beset it, and perhaps will honour his memory with 
 a tear, his coffin with a garland." 
 
 In this manly mood of bearing his misfortune, 
 Quentin felt himself more able to receive and reply 
 to the jests of the Count of Crevecceur, who passed 
 several on his alleged effeminacy and incapacity of 
 undergoing fatigue. The young Scot accommodated 
 himself so good-humouredly to the Count's raillery, 
 and replied at once so happily and so respectfully, 
 that the change of his tone and manner made ob- 
 viously a more favourable impression on the Count 
 than he had entertained from his prisoner's con- 
 duct during the preceding evening, when, rendered 
 irritable by the feelings of his situation, he was al- 
 ternately moodily silent or fiercely argumentative. 
 
 The veteran soldier began at length to take notice 
 of his young companion, as a pretty fellow, of whom 
 something might be made ; and more than hinted to 
 him, that, would he but resign his situation in the 
 Archer-guard of France, he would undertake to 
 have him enrolled in the household of the Duke of 
 Burgundy in an honourable condition, and would 
 himself take care of his advancement. And al- 
 though Quentin, with suitable expressions of grati- 
 tude, declined this favour at present, until he should 
 find out how far he had to complain of his original 
 patron, King Louis, he, nevertheless, continued to 
 remain on good terms with the Count of Crevecceur 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 129 
 
 and, while his enthusiastic mode of thinking, and 
 his foreign and idiomatical manner of expressing 
 himself, often excited a smile on the grave cheek 
 of the Count, that smile had lost all that it had of 
 sarcastic and bitter, and did not exceed the limits 
 of good humour and good manners. 
 
 Thus travelling on with much more harmony 
 than on the preceding day, the little party came 
 at last within two miles of the famous and strong 
 town of Peronne, near which the Duke of Bur- 
 gundy's army lay encamped, ready, as was supposed, 
 to invade France; and, in opposition to which, 
 Louis XI. had himself assembled a strong force 
 near Saint Maxence, for the purpose of bringing 
 to reason his over-powerful vassal. 
 
 Peronne, situated upon a deep river, in a flat 
 country, and surrounded by strong bulwarks and 
 profound moats, was accounted in ancient, as in 
 modern times, one of the strongest fortresses in 
 France. 1 The Count of Crevecceur, his retinue, 
 and his prisoner, were approaching the fortress 
 about the third hour after noon ; when, riding 
 through the pleasant glades of a large forest, which 
 then covered the approach to the town on the east 
 side, they were met by two men of rank, as ap- 
 peared from the number of their attendants, dressed 
 in the habits worn in time of peace ; and who, to 
 judge from the falcons which they carried on their 
 wrists, and the number of spaniels and greyhounds 
 led by their followers, were engaged in the amuse- 
 
 1 Indeed, though lying on an exposed and warlike frontier, 
 it was never taken by an enemy, but preserved the proud name 
 of Peronne la Pucelle, until the Duke of Wellington, a great 
 destroyer of that sort of reputation, took the place in the memor- 
 able advance upon Paris in 1815. 
 
 VOL. 11. 9 
 
130 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 ment of hawking. But on perceiving CrSvecceur 
 with whose appearance and liveries they were suffi- 
 ciently intimate, they quitted the search which 
 they were making for a heron along the banks of 
 a long canal, and came galloping towards him. 
 
 " News, news, Count of Crevecceur ! " they cried 
 both together ; " will you give news, or take 
 news ? or will you barter fairly ? " 
 
 "I would barter fairly, Messires," said Creve- 
 cceur, after saluting them courteously, " did I con- 
 ceive you had any news of importance sufficient to 
 make an equivalent for mine." 
 
 The two sportsmen smiled on each other ; and 
 the elder of the two, a fine baronial figure, with a 
 dark countenance, marked with that sort of sadness 
 which some physiognomists ascribe to a melancholy 
 temperament, and some, as the Italian statuary 
 augured of the visage of Charles I., consider as 
 predicting an unhappy death, 1 turning to his com- 
 panion, said, " Crevecceur has been in Brabant, the 
 country of commerce, and he has learned all its 
 artifices he will be too hard for us if we drive a 
 bargain." 
 
 " Messires," said Crevecceur, " the Duke ought 
 in justice to have the first of my wares, as the 
 Seigneur takes his toll before open market begins, 
 But tell me, are your news of a sad or a pleasant 
 complexion ? " 
 
 The person whom he particularly addressed was 
 a lively -looking man, with an eye of great vivacity, 
 which was corrected by an expression of reflection 
 
 1 D'Hymbercourt, or Imbercourt, was put to death by the in- 
 habitants of Ghent with the Chancellor of Burgundy, in the year 
 1477. Mary of Burgundy, daughter of Charles the Bold, appeared 
 in mourning in the market-place, and with tears besought the life 
 of her servants from her insurgent subjects, but in vain. 
 
QUENTIN DTJRWARD. 131 
 
 and gravity about the mouth and upper lip the 
 whole physiognomy marking a man who saw and 
 judged rapidly, but was sage and slow in forming 
 resolutions or in expressing opinions. This was 
 the famous Knight of Hainault, son of Collart, or 
 Nicolas de 1' Elite, known in history, and amongst 
 historians, by the venerable name of Philip des 
 Comines, at this time close to the person of Duke 
 Charles the Bold, 1 and one of his most esteemed 
 counsellors. He answered Crevecoeur's question 
 concerning the complexion of the news of which 
 he and his companion, the Baron d'Hymbercourt, 
 were the depositaries. " They were," he said, 
 "like the colours of the rainbow, various in hue, 
 as they might be viewed from different points, and 
 placed against the black cloud or the fair sky 
 Such a rainbow was never seen in France or Flan- 
 ders since that of Noah's ark." 
 
 " My tidings," replied Crevecceur, " are altogether 
 like the comet ; gloomy, wild, and terrible in them- 
 selves, yet to be accounted the forerunners of still 
 greater and more dreadful evils which are to ensue." 
 
 " We must open our bales," said Comines to his 
 companion, " or our market will be forestalled by 
 some new-comers, for ours are public news. In 
 one word, Crevecceur listen, and wonder King 
 Louis is at Peronne ! " 
 
 " What ! " said the Count, in astonishment ; " has 
 the Duke retreated without a battle ? and do you 
 remain here in your dress of peace, after the town 
 is besieged by the French ? for I cannot suppose 
 it taken." 
 
 " No, surely," said D'Hymbercourt, " the banners 
 
 1 Note TIT. Philip des Comines 
 
132 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 of Burgundy have not gone back a foot ; and still 
 King Louis is here." 
 
 " Then Edward of England must have come 
 over the seas with his bowmen," said Crevecoeur, 
 " and, like his ancestors, gained a second field of 
 Poictiers." 
 
 " Not so," said Comines " Not a French banner 
 has been borne down, not a sail spread from Eng- 
 land where Edward is too much amused among 
 the wives of the citizens of London, to think of 
 playing the Black Prince. Hear the extraordinary 
 truth. You know, when you left us, that the con- 
 ference between the commissioners on the parts of 
 France and Burgundy was broken up, without ap- 
 parent chance of reconciliation ? " 
 
 " True ; and we dreamt of nothing but war." 
 
 "What has followed has been indeed so like a 
 dream," said Comines, " that I almost expect to 
 awake, and find it so. Only one day since, the Duke 
 had in Council protested so furiously against farther 
 delay, that it was resolved to send a defiance to 
 the King, and march forward instantly into France. 
 Toison d'Or, commissioned for the purpose, had 
 put on his official dress, and had his foot in the 
 stirrup to mount his horse, when lo ! the French 
 herald Mont-joie rode into our camp. We thought 
 of nothing else than that Louis had been beforehand 
 with our defiance ; and began to consider how much 
 the Duke would resent the advice, which had pre- 
 vented him from being the first to declare war. 
 But a council being speedily assembled, what was 
 our wonder when the herald informed us, that 
 Louis, King of France, was scarce an hour's rid- 
 ing behind, intending to visit Charles, Duke of 
 Burgundy, with a small retinue, in order that 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 133 
 
 their differences might be settled at a personal 
 interview ! " 
 
 " You surprise me, Messires," said Crevecceur ; 
 " and yet you surprise me less than you might have 
 expected ; for, when I was last at Plessis-les-Tours, 
 the all-trusted Cardinal Balue, offended with his 
 master, and Burgundian at heart, did hint to me, 
 that he could so work upon Louis's peculiar foibles, 
 as to lead him to place himself in such a position 
 with regard to Burgundy, that the Duke might 
 have the terms of peace of his own making. But 
 I never suspected that so old a fox as Louis could 
 have been induced to come into the trap of his own 
 accord. What said the Burgundian counsellors ? " 
 
 " As you may guess," answered D'Hymbercourt , 
 " talked much of faith to be observed, and little of 
 advantage to be obtained, by such a visit ; while it 
 was manifest they thought almost entirely of the 
 last, and were only anxious to find some way to 
 reconcile it with the necessary preservation of 
 appearances." 
 
 " And what said the Duke ? " continued the 
 Count of Crevecoeur. 
 
 " Spoke brief and bold, as usual," replied Comines. 
 "' Which of you was it,' he asked, 'who. witnessed 
 the meeting of my cousin Louis and me after the 
 battle of Montl'hery, 1 when I was so thoughtless as 
 to accompany him back within the intrenchments 
 of Paris with half a score of attendants, and so put 
 my person at the King's mercy ? ' I replied, that 
 most of us had been present ; and none could ever 
 forget the alarm which it had been his pleasure to 
 give us. ' Well,' said the Duke, ' you blamed me 
 
 1 Note IV. Meeting of Louis and Charles after the battle of 
 Montl'hery. 
 
i 3 4 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 for my folly, and I confessed to you that I had acted 
 like a giddy-pated boy ; and I am aware, too, that 
 my father of happy memory being then alive, my 
 kinsman, Louis, would have had less advantage by 
 seizing on my person than I might now have by se- 
 curing his. But, nevertheless, if my royal kins- 
 man comes hither on the present occasion, in the 
 same singleness of heart under which I then acted, 
 he shall be royally welcome. If it is meant by this 
 appearance of confidence, to circumvent and to blind 
 me, till he execute some of his politic schemes, by 
 Saint George of Burgundy, let him look to it!' 
 And so, having turned up his mustaches, and stamped 
 on the ground, he ordered us all to get on our horses, 
 and receive so extraordinary a guest." 
 
 " And you met the King accordingly ? " replied 
 the Count of Crevecoeur "Miracles have not 
 ceased ! How was he accompanied ? " 
 
 " As slightly as might be," answered D'Hymber- 
 court ; " only a score or two of the Scottish Guard, 
 and a few knights and gentlemen of his household 
 among whom his astrologer, Galeotti, made the 
 gayest figure." 
 
 "That fellow," said Crevecoeur, "holds some 
 dependence on the Cardinal Balue I should not be 
 surprised that he has had his share in determining 
 the King to this step of doubtful policy. Any no- 
 bility of higher rank ? " 
 
 " There are Monsieur of Orleans and Dunois," re- 
 plied Comines. 
 
 " I will have a rouze with Dunois," said Creve- 
 coeur, "wag the world as it will. But we heard 
 that both he and the Duke had fallen into disgrace, 
 and were in prison ? " 
 
 "They were both under arrest in the Castle of 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 135 
 
 Loches, that delightful place of retirement for the 
 French nobility," said D'Hymbercourt ; " but Louis 
 has released them, in order to bring them with him 
 perhaps because he cared not to leave Orleans 
 behind. For his other attendants, faith, I think his 
 gossip, the Hangman Marshal, with two or three 
 of his retinue, and Oliver, his barber, may be the 
 most considerable and the whole bevy so poorly 
 arrayed, that, by my honour, the King resembles 
 most an old usurer going to collect desperate debts, 
 attended by a body of catchpolls." 
 
 " And where is he lodged ? " said Crevecceur. 
 
 " Nay, that," replied Comines, " is the most mar- 
 vellous of all. Our Duke offered to let the King's 
 Archer-Guard have a gate of the town, and a bridge 
 of boats over the Somme, and to have assigned to 
 Louis himself the adjoining house, belonging to a 
 wealthy burgess, Giles Orthen ; but, in going thither, 
 the King espied the banners of De Lau and Pencil 
 de Riviere, whom he had banished from France ; 
 and scared, as it would seem, with the thought of 
 lodging so near refugees and malecontents of his own 
 making, he craved to be quartered in the Castle of 
 Peronne, and there he hath his abode accordingly." 
 
 * Why, God ha' mercy ! " exclaimed Crevecceur, 
 " this is not only venturing into the lion's den, but 
 thrusting his head into his very jaws Nothing 
 less than the very bottom of the rat-trap would 
 serve the crafty old politician ! " 
 
 " Nay," said Comines, " D'Hymbercourt hath not 
 told you the speech of Le Glorieux l which, in my 
 mind, was the shrewdest opinion that was given." 
 
 " And what said his most illustrious wisdom ? " 
 asked the Count. 
 
 1 The jester of Charles of Burgundy, of whom more hereafter. 
 
136 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 "As the Duke," replied Comines, "was hastily 
 ordering some vessels and ornaments of plate, and 
 the like, to be prepared as presents for the King 
 and his retinue, by way of welcome on his arrival, 
 'Trouble not thy small brain about it, my friend 
 Charles,' said Le Glorieux, 'I will give, thy cousin 
 Louis a nobler and a fitter gift than thou canst ; 
 and that is my cap and bells, and my bauble to 
 boot ; for, by the mass, he is a greater fool than I 
 am, for putting himself in thy power.' But if I 
 give him no reason to repent it, sirrah, how then ? ' 
 said the Duke. 'Then, truly, Charles, thou shalt 
 have cap and bauble thyself, as the greatest fool of 
 the three of us.' I promise you this knavish quip 
 touched the Duke closely I saw him change colour 
 and bite his lip. And now, our news are told, noble 
 Crevecoeur, and what think you they resemble ? " 
 
 "A mine full-charged with gunpowder," answered 
 Crevecoeur, " to which, I fear, it is my fate to bring 
 the kindled linstock. Your news and mine are like 
 flax and fire, which cannot meet without bursting 
 into flame, or like certain chemical substances which 
 cannot be mingled without an explosion. Friends, 
 gentlemen, ride close by my rein ; and when I tell 
 you what has chanced in the bishopric of Liege, I 
 think you will be of opinion, that King Louis might 
 as safely have undertaken a pilgrimage to the infer- 
 nal regions, as this ill-timed visit to Peronne." 
 
 The two nobles drew up close on either hand of 
 the Count, and listened, with half-suppressed excla- 
 mations, and gestures of the deepest wonder and 
 interest, to his account of the transactions at Liege 
 and Schonwaldt. Quentin was then called forward, 
 and examined and re-examined on the particulars 
 of the Bishop's death, until at length he refused 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 137 
 
 to answer any further interrogatories, not knowing 
 wherefore they were asked, or what use might be 
 made of his replies. 
 
 They now reached the rich and level banks of 
 the Somme, and the ancient walls of the little town 
 of Peronne la Pucelle, and the deep green meadows 
 adjoining, now whitened with the numerous tents 
 of the Duke of Burgundy's army, amounting to 
 about fifteen thousand men. 
 
CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 THE INTERVIEW. 
 
 When Princes meet, Astrologers may mark it 
 An ominous conjunction, full of boding, 
 Like that of Mars with Saturn. 
 
 Old Play, 
 
 One hardly knows whether to term it a privilege 
 or a penalty annexed to the quality of princes, that, 
 in their intercourse with each other, they are re- 
 quired, by the respect which is due to their own 
 rank and dignity, to regulate their -feelings and 
 expressions by a severe etiquette, which precludes 
 all violent and avowed display of passion, and which, 
 but that the whole world are aware that this assumed 
 complaisance is a matter of ceremony, might justly 
 pass for profound dissimulation. It is no less cer- 
 tain, however, that the overstepping of these bounds 
 of ceremonial, for the purpose of giving more direct 
 vent to their angry passions, has the effect of com- 
 promising their dignity with the world in general ; 
 as was particularly noted when those distinguished 
 rivals, Francis the First, and the Emperor Charles, 
 gave each other the lie direct, and were desirous 
 of deciding their differences hand to hand, in single 
 combat. 
 
 Charles of Burgundy, the most hasty and impa- 
 tient, nay, the most imprudent prince of his time, 
 found himself, nevertheless, fettered within the 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 139 
 
 magic circle which prescribed the most profound 
 deference to Louis, as his Suzerain and liege Lord, 
 who had deigned to confer upon him, a vassal of the 
 crown, the distinguished honour of a personal visit. 
 Dressed in his ducal mantle, and attended by his 
 great officers, and principal knights and nobles, 
 he went in gallant cavalcade, to receive Louis XL 
 His retinue absolutely blazed with gold and silver ; 
 for the wealth of the Court of England being ex- 
 hausted by the wars of York and Lancaster, and 
 the expenditure of France limited by the economy 
 of the Sovereign, that of Burgundy was for the 
 time the most magnificent in Europe. The cortege 
 of Louis, on the contrary, was few in number, and 
 comparatively mean in appearance, and the exterior 
 of the King himself, in a threadbare cloak, with 
 his wonted old high-crowned hat stuck full of 
 images, rendered the contrast yet more striking; 
 and as the Duke, richly attired with the coronet 
 and mantle of state, threw himself from his noble 
 charger, and, kneeling on one knee, offered to hold 
 the stirrup while Louis dismounted from his little 
 ambling palfrey, the effect was almost grotesque. 
 
 The greeting between the two potentates was, 
 of course, as full of affected kindness and compli- 
 ment, as it was totally devoid of sincerity. But 
 the temper of the Duke rendered it much more 
 difficult for him to preserve the necessary appear- 
 ances, in voice, speech, and demeanour ; while in 
 the King, every species of simulation and dissimu- 
 lation seemed so much a part of his nature, that 
 those best acquainted with him could not have dis- 
 tinguished what was feigned from what was real. 
 
 Perhaps the most accurate illustration, were it ' 
 not unworthy two such high potentates, would be, 
 
i 4 o QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 to suppose the King in the situation of a stranger v 
 perfectly acquainted with the habits and disposi- 
 tions of the canine race, who, for some purpose of 
 his own, is desirous to make friends with a large 
 and surly mastiff, that holds him in suspicion, and 
 is disposed to worry him on the first symptoms 
 either of diffidence or of umbrage. The mastiff 
 growls internally, erects his bristles, shows his 
 teeth, yet is ashamed to fly upon the intruder, who 
 seems at the same time so kind and so confiding, 
 and therefore the animal endures advances which 
 are far from pacifying him, watching at the same 
 time the slightest opportunity which may justify 
 him in his own eyes for seizing his friend by the 
 throat. 
 
 The King was no doubt sensible, from the altered 
 voice, constrained manner, and abrupt gestures of 
 the Duke, that the game he had to play was deli- 
 cate, and perhaps he more than once repented 
 having ever taken it in hand. But repentance was 
 too late, and all that remained for him was that 
 inimitable dexterity of management, which the 
 King understood equally at least with any man 
 that ever lived. 
 
 The demeanour which Louis used towards the 
 Duke, was such as to resemble the kind overflow- 
 ing of the heart in a moment of sincere reconcilia- 
 tion with an honoured and tried friend, from whom 
 he had been estranged by temporary circumstances 
 now passed away, and forgotten as soon as removed. 
 The King blamed himself for not having sooner 
 taken the decisive step, of convincing his kind and 
 good kinsman by such a mark of confidence as he 
 was now bestowing, that the angry passages which 
 had occurred betwixt them were nothing in his 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 141 
 
 remembrance, when weighed against the kindness 
 which received him when an exile from France, 
 and under the displeasure of the King his father. 
 He spoke of the Good Duke of Burgundy, as Philip 
 the father of Duke Charles was currently called, 
 and remembered a thousand instances of his pa- 
 ternal kindness. 
 
 "I think, cousin," he said, "your father made 
 little difference in his affection, betwixt you and 
 me ; for I remember, when by an accident I had 
 bewildered myself in a hunting-party, I found the 
 Good Duke upbraiding you with leaving me in the 
 forest, as if you had been careless of the safety ot 
 an elder brother." 
 
 The Duke of Burgundy's features were naturally 
 harsh and severe ; and when he attempted to smile, 
 in polite acquiescence to the truth of what the 
 King told him, the grimace which he made was 
 truly diabolical. 
 
 " Prince of dissemblers," he said, in his secret 
 soul, " would that it stood with my honour to re- 
 mind you how you have requited all the benefits 
 of our House ! " 
 
 " And then," continued the King, " if the ties 
 of consanguinity and gratitude are not sufficient to 
 bind us together, my fair cousin, we have those of 
 spiritual relationship ; for, I am godfather to your 
 fair daughter Mary, who is as dear to me as one of 
 my own maidens ; and when the Saints (their holy 
 name be blessed !) sent me a little blossom which 
 withered in the course of three months, it was your 
 princely father who held it at the font, and cele- 
 brated the ceremony of baptism, with richer and 
 prouder magnificence than Paris itself could have 
 afforded. Never shall I forget the deep, the in- 
 
142 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 delible impression, which the generosity of Duke 
 Philip, and yours, my dearest cousin, made upon the 
 half-broken heart of the poor exile ! " 
 
 " Your Majesty," said the Duke, compelling him- 
 self to make some reply, " acknowledged that slight 
 obligation in terms which overpaid all the display 
 which Burgundy could make, to show due sense of 
 the honour you had done its Sovereign." 
 
 " I remember the words you mean, fair cousin," 
 said the King, smiling ; " I think they were, that 
 in guerdon of the benefit of that day, I, poor wan- 
 derer, had nothing to offer, save the persons of 
 myself, of my wife, and of my child. Well, and 
 I think I have indifferently well redeemed my 
 pledge." 
 
 " I mean not to dispute what your Majesty is 
 pleased to aver," said the Duke ; " but " 
 
 " But you ask," said the King, interrupting him, 
 " how my actions have accorded with my words 
 Marry thus : the body of my infant child Joachim 
 rests in Burgundian earth my own person I have 
 this morning placed unreservedly in your power 
 and, for that of my wife, truly, cousin, I think, 
 considering the period of time which has passed, 
 you will scarce insist on my keeping my word in 
 that particular. She was born on the day of the 
 Blessed Annunciation," (he crossed himself, and 
 muttered an Ora pro ?wbis,) " some fifty years since ; 
 but she is no farther distant than Rheims, and if 
 you insist on my promise being fulfilled to the let- 
 ter, she shall presently wait your pleasure." 
 
 Angry as the Duke of Burgundy was at the bare- 
 faced attempt of the King to assume towards him a 
 tone of friendship and intimacy, he could not help 
 laughing at the whimsical reply of that singular 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 143 
 
 monarch, and his laugh was as discordant as the 
 abrupt tones of passion in which he often spoke. 
 Having laughed longer and louder than was at that 
 period, or would now be, thought fitting the time 
 and occasion, he answered in the same tone, bluntly 
 declining the honour of the Queen's company, but 
 stating his willingness to accept that of the King's 
 eldest daughter, whose beauty was celebrated. 
 
 " I am happy, fair cousin," said the King, with 
 one of those dubious smiles of which he frequently 
 made use, " that your gracious pleasure has not 
 fixed on my younger daughter Joan. I should 
 otherwise have had spear-breaking between you 
 and my cousin of Orleans ; and, had harm come of 
 it, I must on either side have lost a kind friend and 
 affectionate cousin." 
 
 " Nay, nay, my royal sovereign," said Duke 
 Charles, " the Duke of Orleans shall have no inter- 
 ruption from me in the path which he has chosen 
 par amours. The cause in which I couch my lance 
 against Orleans, must be fair and straight." 
 
 Louis was far from taking amiss this brutal allu- 
 sion to the personal deformity of the Princess Joan. 
 On the contrary, he was rather pleased to find, that 
 the Duke was content to be amused with broad 
 jests, in which he was himself a proficient, and 
 which (according to the modern phrase) spared 
 much sentimental hypocrisy. Accordingly, he 
 speedily placed their intercourse on such a footing, 
 that Charles, though he felt it impossible to play 
 the part of an affectionate and reconciled friend to a 
 monarch whose ill offices he had so often encoun- 
 tered, and whose sincerity on the present occasion he 
 so strongly doubted, yet had no difficulty in acting 
 the hearty landlord towards a facetious guest ; and 
 
144 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 so the want of reciprocity in kinder feelings between 
 them, was supplied by the tone of good fellowship 
 which exists between two boon companions, a 
 tone natural to the Duke from the frankness, and, 
 it might be added, the grossness of his character, 
 and to Louis, because, though capable of assuming 
 any mood of social intercourse, that which really 
 suited him best was mingled with grossness of ideas, 
 and caustic humour in expression. 
 
 Both Princes were happily able to preserve, 
 during the period of a banquet at the town-house 
 of Peronne, the same kind of conversation, on 
 which they met as on a neutral ground, and which, 
 as Louis easily perceived, was more available than 
 any other to keep the Duke of Burgundy in that 
 state of composure which seemed necessary to his 
 own safety. 
 
 Yet he was alarmed to observe, that the Duke 
 had around him several of those French nobles, and 
 those of the highest rank, and in situations of great 
 trust and power, whom his own severity or injus- 
 tice had driven into exile ; and it was to secure 
 himself from the possible effects of their resentment 
 and revenge, that (as already mentioned) he requested 
 to be lodged in the Castle or Citadel of Peronne, 
 rather than in the town itself. 1 This was readily 
 
 i The arrival of three brothers, Princes of the House of 
 Savoy, of Monseigneur de Lau, whom the King had long 
 detained in prison, of Sire Poncet de Riviere, and the Seigneur 
 de Urfe, who, by the way, as a romance writer of a peculiar 
 turn, might have been happily enough introduced into the 
 present work, but the fate of the Euphuist was a warning to 
 the author all of these nobles bearing the emblem of Bur 
 gundy, the cross, namely, of Saint Andrew, inspired Louis 
 with so much suspicion, that he very impolitically demanded 
 to be lodged in the old Castle of Peronne, and thus rendered 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 145 
 
 granted by Duke Charles, with one of those grim 
 smiles, of which it was impossible to say, whether 
 it meant good or harm to the party whom it 
 concerned. 
 
 But when the King, expressing himself with as 
 much delicacy as he could, and in the manner he 
 thought best qualified to lull suspicion asleep, asked, 
 whether the Scottish Archers of his Guard might 
 not maintain the custody of the castle of Peronne 
 during his residence there, in lieu of the gate of the 
 town which the Duke had offered to their care, 
 Charles replied, with his wonted sternness of voice, 
 and abruptness of manner, rendered more alarming 
 by his habit, when he spoke, of either turning up 
 his mustaches or handling his sword or dagger, 
 the last of which he used frequently to draw a little 
 way, and then return to the sheath, * " Saint 
 Martin ! No, my liege. You are in your vassal's 
 camp and city so men call me in respect to your 
 Majesty my castle and town are yours, and my 
 men are yours ; so it is indifferent whether my men- 
 at-arms or the Scottish Archers guard either the 
 outer gate or defences of the Castle. No, by Saint 
 George ! Peronne is a virgin fortress she shall 
 not lose her reputation by any neglect of mine. 
 Maidens must be carefully watched, my royal cou- 
 sin, if we would have them continue to live in good 
 fame." 
 
 " Surely, fair cousin, and I altogether agree with 
 you," said the King, " I being in fact more inter- 
 ested in the reputation of the good little town than 
 
 himself an absolute captive. See Comines' Memoirs for the 
 year 1468. 
 
 1 This gesture, very indicative of a fierce character, is also by 
 stage-tradition a distinction of Shakspeare's Richard III. 
 
 VOL. II. 10 
 
146 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 you are Peronne being, as you know, fair cousin, 
 one of those upon the same river Somme, which, 
 pledged to your father of happy memory for re- 
 demption of money, are liable to be redeemed upon 
 repayment. And, to speak truth, coming, like an 
 honest debtor, disposed to clear off my obligations 
 of every kind, I have brought here a few sumpter 
 mules loaded with silver for the redemption 
 enough to maintain even your princely and royal 
 establishment, fair cousin, for the space of three 
 years." 
 
 " I will not receive a penny of it," said the Duke, 
 twirling his mustaches ; " the day of redemption 
 is past, my royal cousin ; nor was there ever serious 
 purpose that the right should be exercised, the ces- 
 sion of these towns being the sole recompense my 
 father ever received from France, when, in a happy 
 hour for your family, he consented to forget the 
 murder of my grandfather, and to exchange the al- 
 liance of England for that of your father. Saint 
 George ! if he had not so acted, your royal self, far 
 from having towns on the Somme, could scarce have 
 kept those beyond the Loire. No I will not 
 render a stone of them, were I to receive for every 
 stone so rendered its weight in gold. I thank God, 
 and the wisdom and valour of my ancestors, that 
 the revenues of Burgundy, though it be but a 
 duchy, will maintain my state, even when a King 
 is my guest, without obliging me to barter my 
 heritage." 
 
 "Well, fair cousin," answered the King, with 
 the same mild and placid manner as before, and 
 unperturbed by the loud tone and violent gestures 
 of the Duke, " I see that you are so good a friend 
 to France, that you are unwilling to part with 
 
QUENTIN DU 11 WARD. 147 
 
 nught that belongs to her. But we shall need 
 some moderator in these affairs when we come to 
 treat of them in council What say you to Saint 
 Paul?" 
 
 "Neither Saint Paul, nor Saint Peter, nor e'er 
 a Saint in the Calendar," said the Duke of Burgundy, 
 " shall preach me out of the possession of Peronne." 
 
 "Kay, but you mistake me," said King Louis, 
 smiling ; " I mean Louis de Luxembourg, our 
 trusty constable, the Count of Saint Paul. Ah ! 
 Saint Mary of Embrun ! we lack but his head at 
 our conference ! the best head in France, and the 
 most useful to the restoration of perfect harmony 
 betwixt us." 
 
 " By Saint George of Burgundy ! " said the Duke, 
 44 1 marvel to hear your Majesty talk thus of a man, 
 false and perjured both to France and Burgundy 
 one, who hath ever endeavoured to fan into a 
 flame our frequent differences, and that with the 
 purpose of giving himself the airs of a mediator. 
 I swear by the Order I wear, that his marshes shall 
 not be long a resource for him ! " 
 
 " Be not so warm, cousin," replied the King, 
 smiling, and speaking under his breath ; " when I 
 wished for the constable's head, (b) as a means of 
 ending the settlement of our trifling differences, I 
 had no desire for his body, which might remain at 
 Saint Quentin's with much convenience." 
 
 " Ho ! ho ! I take your meaning, my royal cou- 
 sin," said Charles, with the same dissonant laugh 
 which some other of the King's coarse pleasantries 
 had extorted, and added, stamping with his heel on 
 the ground, " I allow, in that sense, the head of the 
 Constable might be useful at Peronne." 
 
 These, and other discourses, by which the King 
 
yj? - QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 mixed hints at serious affairs amid matters of mirtli 
 and amusement, did not follow each other conse- 
 cutively ; but were adroitly introduced during the 
 time of the banquet at the Hotel de Ville, during 
 a subsequent interview in the Duke's own apart- 
 ments, and, in short, as occasion seemed to render 
 the introduction of such delicate subjects easy and 
 natural. 
 
 Indeed, however rashly Louis had placed himself 
 in a risk, which the Duke's fiery temper, and the 
 mutual subjects of exasperated enmity which sub- 
 sisted betwixt them, rendered of doubtful and 
 perilous issue, never pilot on an unknown coast 
 conducted himself with more firmness and prudence. 
 He seemed to sound, with the utmost address and 
 precision, the depths and shallows of his rival's 
 mind and temper, and manifested neither doubt nor 
 fear, when the result of his experiments discovered 
 much more of sunken rocks, and of dangerous 
 shoals, than of safe anchorage. 
 
 At length a day closed, which must have been a 
 wearisome one to Louis, from the constant exertion, 
 vigilance, precaution, and attention, which his situa- 
 tion required, as it was a day of constraint to the 
 Duke, from the necessity of suppressing the violent 
 feelings to which he was in the general habit of 
 giving uncontrolled vent. 
 
 No sooner had the latter retired into his own 
 apartment, after he had taken a formal leave of the 
 King for the night, than he gave way to the ex- 
 plosion of passion which he had so long suppressed ; 
 and many an oath and abusive epithet, as his jester, 
 Le Glorieux, said, " fell that night upon heads 
 which they were never coined for," his domestics 
 reaping the benefit of that hoard of injurious 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 149 
 
 language, which he could not in decency bestow on 
 his royal guest, even in his absence, and which was 
 yet become too great to be altogether suppressed. 
 The jests of the clown had some effect in tranquil- 
 lizing the Duke's angry mood ; he laughed loudly 
 threw the jester a piece of gold, caused himself to be 
 disrobed in tranquillity, swallowed a deep cup of 
 wine and spices, went to bed, and slept soundly. 
 
 The couchee of King Louis is more worthy of 
 notice than that of Charles ; for the violent expres- 
 sion of exasperated and headlong passion, as indeed 
 it belongs more to the brutal than the intelligent 
 part of our nature, has little to interest us, in com- 
 parison to the deep workings of a vigorous and 
 powerful mind. 
 
 Louis was escorted to the lodgings he had chosen 
 in the Castle, or Citadel of Peronne, by the chamber- 
 lains and harbingers of the Duke of Burgundy, and 
 received at the entrance by a strong guard of archers 
 and men-at-arms. 
 
 As he descended from his horse to cross the draw- 
 bridge, over a moat of unusual width and depth, 
 he looked on the sentinels, and observed to Comines, 
 who accompanied him, with other Burgundian 
 nobles, "They wear Saint Andrew's crosses but 
 not those of my Scottish Archers." 
 
 "You will find them as ready to die in your 
 defence, Sire," said the Burgundian, whose sagacious 
 ear had detected in the King's tone of speech a 
 feeling, which doubtless Louis would have con- 
 cealed if he could. " They wear the Saint An- 
 drew's Cross as the appendage of the collar of the 
 Golden Fleece, my master the Duke of Burgundy's 
 Order." 
 
 "Do I not know iff" said Ioiris showing the 
 
t5o QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 collar which he himself wore in compliment to his 
 host ; " It is one of the dear bonds of fraternity 
 which exist between my kind brother and myself. 
 We are brothers in chivalry, as in spiritual relation- 
 ship ; cousins by birth, and friends by every tie of 
 kind feeling and good neighbourhood. No farther 
 than the base-court, my noble lords and gentle- 
 men ! I can permit your attendance no farther 
 you have done me enough of grace." 
 
 " We were charged by the Duke," said D'Hym- 
 bercourt, " to bring your Majesty to your lodging. 
 We trust your Majesty will permit us to obey 
 our master's command." 
 
 " In this small matter," said the King, " I trust 
 you will allow my command to outweigh his, even 
 with you his liege subjects. I am something in 
 disposed, my lords something fatigued. Great 
 pleasure hath its toils, as well as great pain. I 
 trust to enjoy your society better to-morrow. And 
 yours too, Seignior Philip of Comines I am told 
 you are the annalist of the time we that desire to 
 have a name in history, must speak you fair, for 
 men say your pen hath a sharp point, when you 
 will. Good-night, my lords and gentles, to all and 
 each of you." 
 
 The Lords of Burgundy retired, much pleased 
 with the grace of Louis's manner, and the artful 
 distribution of his attentions; and the King was 
 left with only one or two of his own personal fol- 
 lowers, under the archway of the base-court of the 
 Castle of Peronne, looking on the huge tower which 
 occupied one of the angles, being in fact the Don- 
 jon, or principal Keep, of the place. This tall, dark, 
 massive building, was seen clearly by the same 
 moon which was lighting Quentin Durward betwixt 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 151 
 
 Charleroi and Peronne, which, as the reader is 
 aware, shone with peculiar lustre. The great Keep 
 was in form nearly resembling the White Tower 
 in the Citadel of London, but still more ancient in 
 its architecture, deriving its date, as was affirmed, 
 from the days of Charlemagne. The walls were of 
 a tremendous thickness, the windows very small, 
 and grated with bars of iron, and the huge clumsy 
 bulk of the building cast a dark and portentous 
 shadow over the whole of the court-yard. 
 
 " I am not to be lodged there ! " the King said, 
 with a shudder, that had something in it ominous. 
 
 " No," replied the grey-headed seneschal, who 
 attended upon him unbonneted " God forbid ! 
 Your Majesty's apartments are prepared in these 
 lower buildings which are hard by, and in which 
 King John slept two nights before the battle of 
 Poitiers." 
 
 " Hum that is no lucky omen neither " mut- 
 tered the King ; " but what of the Tower, my old 
 friend ? and why should you desire of Heaven that 
 I may not be there lodged ? " 
 
 " Nay, my gracious liege," said the seneschal, " I 
 know no evil of the Tower at all only that the 
 sentinels say lights are seen, and strange noises 
 heard in it, at night ; and there are reasons why 
 that may be the case, for anciently it was used as 
 a state prison, and there are many tales of deeds 
 which have been done in it." 
 
 Louis asked no farther questions ; for no man 
 was more bound than he to respect the secrets of 
 a prison-house. At the door of the apartments 
 destined for his use, which, though of later date 
 than the Tower, were still both ancient and gloomy, 
 stood a small party of the Scottish Guard, which the 
 
?$2 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 Duke although he declined to concede the point to 
 Louis, had ordered to be introduced, so as to he 
 near the person of their master. The faithful Lord 
 Crawford was at their head. 
 
 "Crawford my honest and faithful Crawford," 
 said the King, " where hast thou been to-day ? 
 Are the lords of Burgundy so inhospitable as to 
 neglect one of the bravest and most noble gentle- 
 men that ever trode a court? I saw you not at 
 the banquet." 
 
 "I declined it, my liege," said Crawford "times 
 are changed with me. The day has been that I 
 could have ventured a carouse with the best man in 
 Burgundy, and that in the juice of his own grape ; 
 but a matter of four pints now flusters me, and I 
 think it concerns your Majesty's service to set in 
 this an example to my callants." 
 
 "Thou art ever prudent," said the King; "but 
 surely your toil is the less when you have so few 
 men to command ? and a time of festivity requires 
 not so severe self-denial on your part as a time of 
 danger." 
 
 " If I have few men to command," said Crawford, 
 " I have the more need to keep the knaves in fitting 
 condition ; and whether this business be like to 
 end in feasting or fighting, God and your Majesty 
 know better than old John of Crawford." 
 
 " You surely do not apprehend any danger ? " 
 said the King hastily, yet in a whisper. 
 
 " Not I," answered Crawford ; " I wish I did ; for, 
 as old Earl Tineman l used to say, apprehended 
 dangers may be always defended dangers. The 
 word for the night, if your Majesty pleases ? " 
 
 1 An Earl of Douglas, so called. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. r jj 
 
 " Let it be Burgundy, in honour of our host and 
 of a liquor that you love, Crawford." 
 
 "I will quarrel with neither Duke nor drink 
 so called,'"' said Crawford, " provided always that 
 both be sound. A good night to your Majesty * ' 
 
 " A good night, my trusty Scot," said the King, 
 and passed on to his apartments. 
 
 At the door of his bedroom Le Balafre* was placed 
 sentinel. "Follow me hither," said the King, as 
 he passed him; and the Archer accordingly, like 
 a piece of machinery put in motion by an artist, 
 strode after him into the apartment, and remained 
 there fixed, silent, and motionless, attending the 
 royal command. 
 
 " Have you heard from that wandering Paladin, 
 your nephew ? " said the King ; " for he hath been 
 lost to us, since, like a young knight who had set 
 out upon his first adventures, he sent us home two 
 prisoners, as the first fruits of his chivalry." 
 
 "My lord, I heard something of that," said 
 Balafre'; "and I hope your Majesty will believe, 
 that if he hath acted wrongfully, it was in no shape 
 by my precept or example, since I never was so bold 
 as to unhorse any of your Majesty's most illustrious 
 house, better knowing my own condition, and " 
 
 " Be silent on that point," said the King : " your 
 nephew did his duty in the matter." 
 
 " There indeed," continued Balafre*, " he had the 
 cue from me. ' Quentin,' said I to him, ' whatever 
 comes of it, remember you belong to the Scottish 
 Archer-guard, and do your duty whatever comes 
 on't' " 
 
 " I guessed he had some such exquisite instruc- 
 ter," said Louis ; " but it concerns me that you 
 answer my first question Have you heard of yo# 
 
154 QUENTIN DURWABD. 
 
 nephew of late ? Stand aback, my masters/' he 
 \dded, addressing the gentlemen of his chamber, 
 ' for this concerneth no ears but mine." 
 
 " Surely, please your Majesty," said Balafre*, u I 
 have seen this very evening the groom Chariot, 
 whom my kinsman dispatched from Liege, or some 
 castle of the Bishop's which is near it, and where 
 he hath lodged the Ladies of Croye in safety." 
 
 Now our Lady of Heaven be praised for it ! " 
 said the King. " Art thou sure of it ? sure of 
 the good news ? " 
 
 " As sure as I can be of aught," said Le Balafre* ; 
 " the fellow, I think, hath letters for your Majesty 
 from the Ladies of Croye." 
 
 " Haste to get them," said the King " Give 
 thy harquebuss to one of these knaves to 
 Oliver to any one. Now our Lady of Embrun 
 be praised! and silver sha 11 be the screen that 
 surrounds her high altar ! " 
 
 Louis, in this fit of gratitude and devotion, doffed, 
 as usual, his hat, selected from the figures with 
 which it was garnished that which represented his 
 favourite image of the Virgin, placed it on a table, 
 and, kneeling down, repeated reverently the vow 
 he had made. 
 
 The groom, being the first messenger whom 
 Durward had dispatched from Schonwaldt, was 
 now introduced with his letters. They were ad- 
 dressed to the King by the Ladies of Croye, and 
 barely thanked him in very cold terms for his 
 courtesy while at his Court, and, something more 
 warmly, for having permitted them to retire, and 
 sent them in safety from his dominions; expres- 
 sions at which Louis laughed very heartily, in- 
 stead of resenting them. He then demanded of 
 
QUENTIN DURWAKD. I55 
 
 Chariot, with obvious interest, whether they had 
 not sustained some alarm or attack upon the road ? 
 Chariot, a stupid fellow, and selected for that, 
 quality, gave a very confused account of the affray 
 in which his companion, the Gascon, had been killed, 
 but knew of no other. Again Louis demanded of 
 him, minutely and particularly, the route which the 
 party had taken to Liege ; and seemed much inter- 
 ested when he was informed, in reply, that they 
 had, upon approaching Namur, kept the more direct 
 road to Liege, upon the right bank of the Maes, 
 instead of the left bank, as recommended in their 
 route. The King then ordered the man a small 
 present, and dismissed him, disguising the anxiety 
 he had expressed, as if it only concerned the safety 
 of the Ladies of Croye. 
 
 Yet the news, though they inferred the failure of 
 one of his own favourite plans, seemed to imply 
 more internal satisfaction on the King's part than 
 he would have probably indicated in a case of bril- 
 liant success. He sighed like one whose breast has 
 been relieved from a heavy burden, muttered his 
 devotional acknowledgments with an air of deep 
 sanctity, raised up his eyes, and hastened to adjust 
 newer and surer schemes of ambition. 
 
 With such purpose, Louis ordered the atten- 
 dance of his astrologer, Martius Galeotti, who ap- 
 peared with his usual air of assumed dignity, yet 
 not without a shade of uncertainty on his brow, as 
 if he had doubted the King's kind reception. It 
 was, however, favourable, even beyond the warm- 
 est which he had ever met with at any former inter- 
 view. Louis termed him his friend, his father in 
 the sciences the glass by which a king should look 
 into distant futurity and concluded by thrusting 
 
/ 5 6 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 on his finger a ring of very considerable value. 
 Galeotti, not aware of the circumstances which had 
 thus suddenly raised his character in the estimation 
 of Louis, yet understood his own profession too 
 well to let that ignorance be seen. He received 
 with grave modesty the praises of Louis, which he 
 contended were only due to the nobleness of the 
 science which he practised, a science the rather the 
 more deserving of admiration on account of its 
 working miracles through means of so feeble an 
 agent as himself ; and he and the King took leave, 
 for once much satisfied with each other. 
 
 On the Astrologer's departure, Louis threw him- 
 self into a chair, and appearing much exhausted, 
 dismissed the rest of his attendants, excepting 
 Oliver alone, who, creeping around with gentle as- 
 siduity and noiseless step, assisted him in the task 
 of preparing for repose. 
 
 While he received this assistance, the King, un- 
 like to his wont, was so silent and passive, that his 
 attendant was struck by the unusual change in his 
 deportment. The worst minds have often some- 
 thing of good principle in them banditti show 
 fidelity to their captain, and sometimes a protected 
 and promoted favourite has felt a gleam of sincere 
 interest in the monarch to whom he owed his great- 
 ness. Oliver le Diable, le Mauvais, (or by what- 
 ever other name he was called expressive of his 
 evil propensities,) was, nevertheless, scarcely so 
 completely identified with Satan as not to feel 
 some touch of grateful feeling for his master in this 
 singular condition, when, as it seemed, his fate was 
 deeply interested, and his strength seemed to be 
 exhausted. After for a short time rendering to 
 the King in silence the usual services paid by a 
 
QUENTIN Dill TH ARD. 157 
 
 servant to his master at the toilet, the attendant 
 was at length tempted to say, with the freedom 
 which his Sovereign's indulgence had permitted 
 him in such circumstances, " Tete-dieu, Sire, you 
 seem as if you had lost a battle ; and yet I, who 
 was near your Majesty during this whole day, never 
 knew you fight a field so gallantly." 
 
 " A field ! " said King Louis, looking up, and 
 assuming his wonted causticity of tone and man- 
 ner ; " Pasques-dieu, my friend Oliver, say I have 
 kept the arena in a bull-fight ; for a blinder, and 
 more stubborn, untameable, uncontrollable brute, 
 than our cousin of Burgundy, never existed, save 
 in the shape of a Murcian bull, trained for the bull 
 feasts. Well, let it pass I dodged him bravely. 
 But, Oliver, rejoice with me that my plans in Flan- 
 ders have not taken effect, whether as concerning 
 those two rambling Princesses of Croye, or in Liegb 
 you understand me ? " 
 
 " In faith, I do not, Sire," replied Oliver ; " it 
 is impossible for me to congratulate your Majesty 
 on the failure of your favourite schemes, unless you 
 tell me some reason for the change in your own 
 wishes and views." 
 
 " Nay," answered the King, " there is no change 
 in either, in a general . view. But, Pasques-dieu, 
 my friend, I have this day learned more of Duke 
 Charles than I before knew. When he was Count 
 de Charalois, in the time of the old Duke Philip 
 and the banished Dauphin of France, we drank 
 and hunted, and rambled together and many a 
 wild adventure we have had. And in those days 
 I had a decided advantage over him like that 
 which a strong spirit naturally assumes over a 
 weak one. But he has since changed has become 
 
158 QUENTIN IMJRWARD. 
 
 o dogged, daring, assuming, disputatious dogmatist, 
 who nourishes an obvious wish to drive matters to 
 oxtremities, while he thinks he has the game in his 
 own hands. I was compelled to glide as gently 
 away from each offensive topic, as if I touched red- 
 hot iron. I did but hint at the possibility of those 
 erratic Countesses of Croye, ere they attained Liege, 
 (for thither I frankly confessed that, to the best of 
 my belief, they were gone,) falling into the hands 
 of some wild snapper upon the frontiers, and, 
 Pasques-dieu ! you would have thought I had spoken 
 of sacrilege. It is needless to tell you what he 
 said, and quite enough to say, that I would have 
 held my head's safety very insecure, if, in that 
 moment, accounts had been brought of the suc- 
 cess of thy friend, William with the Beard, in his 
 and thy honest scheme of bettering himself by 
 marriage." 
 
 "No friend of mine, if it please your Majesty," 
 said Oliver " neither friend nor plan of mine." 
 
 " True, Oliver," answered the King ; " thy plan 
 had not been to wed, but to shave such a bride- 
 groom. Well, thou didst wish her as bad a one, 
 vhen thou didst modestly hint at thyself. How- 
 ever, Oliver, lucky the man who has her not ; for 
 hang, draw, and quarter, were the most gentle 
 words which my gentle cousin spoke of him who 
 should wed the young Countess, his vassal, without 
 his most ducal permission." 
 
 "And he is, doubtless, as jealous of any dis- 
 turbances in the good town of Liege ? " asked the 
 favourite. 
 
 " As much, or much more so," replied the King, 
 "as your understanding may easily anticipate; 
 but, ever since I resolved on coming hither, my 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 159 
 
 messengers have been in Liege, to repress, for 
 the present, every movement to insurrection ; and 
 my very busy and bustling friends, Eouslaer and 
 Pavilion, have orders to be quiet as a mouse un- 
 til this happy meeting between my cousin and me 
 is over." 
 
 "Judging, then, from your Majesty's account," 
 said Oliver, dryly, " the utmost to be hoped from 
 this meeting is, that it should not make your con- 
 dition worse ? Surely this is like the crane that 
 thrust her head into the fox's mouth, and was glad 
 to thank her good fortune that it was not bitten off. 
 Yet your Majesty seemed deeply obliged. even now 
 to the sage philosopher who encouraged you to play 
 so hopeful a game." 
 
 " No game," said the King, sharply, " is to be de- 
 spaired of until it is lost, and that I have no reason 
 to expect it will be in my own case. On the con- 
 trary, if nothing occurs to stir the rage of this vin- 
 dictive madman, I am sure of victory ; and surely, 
 I am not a little obliged to the skill which selected 
 for my agent, as the conductor of the Ladies of 
 Croye, a youth whose horoscope so far corresponded 
 with mine, that he hath saved me from danger, 
 even by the disobedience of my own commands, 
 and taking the route which avoided De la Marck's 
 ambuscade." 
 
 " Your Majesty," said Oliver, " may find many 
 agents who will serve you on the terms of act- 
 ing rather after their own pleasure than your 
 instructions." 
 
 " Nay, nay, Oliver," said Louis, impatiently, " the 
 heathen poet speaks of Vota diis exaudita malignis, 
 wishes, that is, which the saints grant to us in 
 their wrath ; and such, in the circumstances, would 
 
f6o QUENTIN PURWARD. 
 
 have been the success of William de la Marck's ex- 
 ploit, had it taken place about this time, and while 
 I am in the power of this Duke of Burgundy. 
 And this my own art foresaw fortified by that of 
 Galeotti ; that is, I foresaw not the miscarriage of 
 De la Marck's undertaking, but I foresaw that the 
 expedition of yonder Scottish Archer should end 
 happily for me and such has been the issue, 
 though in a manner different from what I expected; 
 for the stars, though they foretell general results, 
 are yet silent on the means by which such are ac- 
 complished, being often the very reverse of what 
 we expect, or even desire. But why talk I of 
 these mysteries to thee, Oliver, who art in so far 
 worse than the very devil, who is thy namesake, 
 since he believes and trembles; whereas thou art an 
 infidel both to religion and to science, and wilt re- 
 main so till thine own destiny is accomplished, which, 
 as thy horoscope and physiognomy alike assure me, 
 will be by the intervention of the gallows ! " 
 
 " And if it indeed shall be so," said Oliver, in a 
 resigned tone of voice, " it will be so ordered, be- 
 cause I was too grateful a servant to hesitate at 
 executing the commands of my royal master." 
 
 Louis burst into his usual sardonic laugh. " Thou 
 hast broke thy lance on me fairly, Oliver ; and, by 
 Our Lady, thou art right, for I defied thee to it. 
 But, prithee, tell me in sadness, dost thou discover 
 any thing in these men's measures towards us, which 
 may argue any suspicion of i l \ usage ? " 
 
 " My liege," replied Oliver, " your Majesty, and 
 yonder learned philosopher, look for augury to the 
 stars and heavenly host I am an earthly reptile, 
 and consider but the things connected with my 
 vocation. But, methinks, there is a lack of that 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 161 
 
 earnest and precise attention on your Majesty, 
 which men show to a welcome guest of a degree so 
 far above them. The Duke, to-night, pleaded weari- 
 ness, and saw your Majesty not farther than to the 
 street, leaving to the officers of his household the 
 task of conveying you to your lodgings. The rooms 
 here are hastily and carelessly fitted up the tapes- 
 try is hung up awry and, in one of the pieces, as 
 you may observe, the figures are reversed, and stand 
 on their heads, while the trees grow with their roots 
 uppermost." 
 
 " Pshaw ! accident, and the effect of hurry," said 
 the King. " When did you ever know me concerned 
 about such trifles as these ? " 
 
 "Not on their own account are they worth no- 
 tice," said Oliver ; " but as intimating the degree of 
 esteem in which the officers of the Duke's household 
 observe your Grace to be held by him. Believe me, 
 that had his desire seemed sincere that your recep- 
 tion should be in all points marked by scrupulous 
 attention, the zeal of his people would have made 
 minutes do the work of days And when," he 
 added, pointing to the basin and ewer, "was the 
 furniture of your Majesty's toilet of other substance 
 than silver ? " 
 
 " Nay," said the King, with a constrained smile, 
 "that last remark upon the shaving utensils, Oliver, 
 is too much in the style of thine own peculiar occu- 
 pation to be combated by any one. True it is, that 
 when I was only a refugee, and an exile, I was served 
 upon gold-plate by order of the same Charles, who 
 accounted silver too mean for the Dauphin, though 
 he seems to hold that metal too rich for the King of 
 France. "Well, Oliver, we will to bed Our resolu- 
 tion has been made and executed ; there is nothing 
 vol. ii. n 
 
i6z QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 to be done but to play manfully the game on which 
 we have entered. I know that my cousin of Bur- 
 gundy, like other wild bulls, shuts his eyes when he 
 begins his career. I have but to watch that moment, 
 like one of the tauridors whom we saw at Burgos, and 
 his impetuosity places him at my mercy." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE EXPLOSION. 
 
 Tie listening fear, and dumb amazement all, 
 When to the startled eye, the sudden glance 
 Appears far south, eruptive through the cloud. 
 
 Thomson's Summer. 
 
 The preceding chapter, agreeable to its title, was 
 designed as a retrospect, which might enable the 
 reader fully to understand the terms upon which 
 the King of France and the Duke of Burgundy 
 stood together, when the former, moved, partly per- 
 haps by his belief in astrology, which was repre- 
 sented as favourable to the issue of such a measure, 
 and. in a great measure doubtless by the conscious 
 superiority of his own powers of mind over those of 
 Charles, had adopted the extraordinary, and upon 
 any other ground altogether inexplicable, resolution 
 of committing his person to the faith of a fierce and 
 exasperated enemy a resolution, also the more rash 
 and unaccountable, as there were various examples 
 in that stormy time to show, that safe-conducts, 
 however solemnly plighted, had proved no assur- 
 ance for those in whose favour they were conceived ; 
 and indeed the murder of the Duke's grandfather, at 
 the Bridge of Montereau, in presence of the father 
 of Louis, and at an interview solemnly agreed upon 
 for the establishment of peace and amnesty, was a 
 
'64 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 horrible precedent, should the Duke be disposed te 
 resort to it. 
 
 But the temper of Charles, though rough, fierce, 
 headlong and unyielding, was not, unless in the full 
 tide of passion, faithless or ungenerous, faults which 
 usually belong to colder dispositions. He was at no 
 pains to show the King more courtesy than the laws 
 of hospitality positively demanded ; but, on the other 
 hand, he evinced no purpose of overleaping their 
 sacred barriers. 
 
 On the following morning after the King's arrival, 
 there was a general muster of the troops of the Duke 
 of Burgundy, which were so numerous and so excel- 
 lently appointed, that, perhaps, he was not sorry to 
 have an opportunity of displaying them before his 
 great rival. Indeed, while he paid the necessary 
 compliment of a vassal to his Suzerain, in declaring 
 that these troops were the King's, and not his own, 
 the curl of his upper lip, and the proud glance of 
 his eye, intimated his consciousness, that the words 
 he used were but empty compliment, and that his 
 fine army, at his own unlimited disposal, was as 
 ready to march against Paris as in any other direc- 
 tion. It must have added to Louis's mortification, 
 that he recognised, as forming part of this host, many 
 banners of French nobility, not only of Normandy 
 and Bretagne, but of provinces more immediately 
 subjected to his own authority, who, from various 
 causes of discontent, had joined and made common 
 cause with the Duke of Burgundy. 
 
 True to his character, however, Louis seemed to 
 take little notice of these malecontents, while, in 
 fact, he was revolving in his mind the various means 
 by which it might be possible to detach them from 
 the banners of Burgundy and bring them back to 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 165 
 
 his own, and resolved for that purpose, that he 
 would cause those to whom he attached the great- 
 est importance to be secretly sounded by Oliver and 
 other agents. 
 
 He himself laboured diligently, but at the same 
 time cautiously, to make interest with the Duke's 
 chief officers and advisers, employing for that pur- 
 pose the usual means of familiar and frequent notice, 
 adroit flattery, and liberal presents ; not, as he re- 
 presented, to alienate their faithful services from 
 their noble master, but that they might lend their 
 aid in preserving peace betwixt France and Bur- 
 gundy, an end so excellent in itself, and so ob- 
 viously tending to the welfare of both countries, 
 and of the reigning Princes of either. 
 
 The notice of so great and so wise a King was 
 in itself a mighty bribe ; promises did much, and 
 direct gifts, which the customs of the time permitted 
 the Burgundian courtiers to accept without scruple, 
 did still more. During a boar-hunt in the forest, 
 while the Duke, eager always upon the immediate 
 object, whether business or pleasure, gave himself 
 entirely up to the ardour of the chase, Louis, un- 
 restrained by his presence* sought and found the 
 means of speaking secretly and separately to many 
 of those who were reported to have most interest 
 with Charles, among whom D'Hymbercourt and 
 Comines were not forgotten ; nor did he fail to mix 
 up the advances which he made towards those two 
 distinguished persons with praises of the valour and 
 military skill of the first, and of the profound saga- 
 city and literary talents of the future historian of 
 the period. 
 
 Such an opportunity of personally conciliating, 
 or, if the reader pleases, corrupting, the ministers 
 
166 QXJENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 of Charles, was perhaps what the King had proposed 
 to himself, as a principal object of his visit, even 
 if his art should fail to cajole the Duke himself. 
 The connexion betwixt France and Burgundy was 
 so close, that most of the nobles belonging to the 
 latter country had hopes or actual interests con- 
 nected with the former, which the favour of Louis 
 could advance, or his personal displeasure destroy. 
 Formed for this and every other species of intrigue, 
 liberal to profusion when it was necessary to ad- 
 vance his plans, and skilful in putting the most 
 plausible colour upon his proposals and presents, 
 the King contrived to reconcile the spirit of the 
 proud to their profit, and to hold out to the real or 
 pretended patriot the good of both France and 
 Burgundy, as the ostensible motive ; whilst the 
 party's own private interest, like the concealed 
 wheel of some machine, worked not the less power- 
 fully that its operations were kept out of sight. 
 For each man he had a suitable bait, and a proper 
 mode of presenting it; he poured the guerdon into 
 the sleeve of those who were too proud to extend 
 their hand, and trusted that his bounty, though it 
 descended like the dew without noise and imper- 
 ceptibly, would not fail to produce, in due season, 
 a plentiful crop of good will at least, perhaps of 
 good offices, to the donor. In fine, although he had 
 been long paving the way by his ministers for an 
 establishment of such an interest in the Court of 
 Burgundy, as should be advantageous to the inter- 
 ests of France, Louis's own personal exertions, 
 directed doubtless by the information of which he 
 was previously possessed, did more to accomplish 
 that object in a few hours, than his agents had 
 * "^oted in years of negotiation. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 167 
 
 One man alone the King missed, whom he had 
 been particularly desirous of conciliating, and that 
 was the Count de Crevacoeur, whose firmness, during 
 his conduct as Envoy at Plessis, far from exciting 
 Louis's resentment, had been viewed as a reason 
 for making him his own if possible. He was not 
 particularly gratified when he learnt that the Count, 
 at the head of an hundred lances, was gone towards 
 the frontiers of Brabant, to assist the Bishop, in 
 case of necessity, against William de la Marck and 
 his discontented subjects ; but he consoled himself, 
 that the appearance of this force, joined with the 
 directions which he had sent by faithful messengers, 
 would serve to prevent any premature disturbances 
 in that country, the breaking out of which might, 
 he foresaw, render his present situation very 
 precarious. 
 
 The Court upon this occasion dined in the forest 
 when the hour of noon arrived, as was common in 
 those great hunting-parties ; an arrangement at this 
 time particularly agreeable to the Duke, desirous as 
 he was to abridge that ceremonious and deferential 
 solemnity with which he was otherwise under the 
 necessity of receiving King Louis. In fact, the 
 King's knowledge of human nature had in one par- 
 ticular misled him on this remarkable occasion. He 
 thought that the Duke would have been inexpres- 
 sibly flattered to have received such a mark of con- 
 descension and confidence from his liege lord ; but 
 he forgot that the dependence of this Dukedom 
 upon the Crown of France was privately the sub- 
 ject of galling mortification to a Prince so powerful, 
 so wealthy, and so proud as Charles, whose aim it 
 certainly was to establish an independent kingdom. 
 The presence of the King at the Court of the Duk^ 
 
168 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 of Burgundy, imposed on that prince the necessity 
 of exhibiting himself in the subordinate character o! 
 a vassal, and of discharging many rites of feudal 
 observance and deference, which, to one of his 
 haughty disposition, resembled derogation from the 
 character of a Sovereign Prince, which on all occa- 
 sions he affected as far as possible to sustain. 
 
 But although it was possible to avoid much cere- 
 mony by having the dinner upon the green turf, 
 with sound of bugles, broaching of barrels, and all 
 the freedom of a silvan meal, it was necessary that 
 the evening repast should, even for that very reason, 
 be held with more than usual solemnity. 
 
 Previous orders for this purpose had been given, 
 and, upon returning to Peronne, King Louis found 
 a banquet prepared with such a profusion of splen- 
 dour and magnificence, as became the wealth of his 
 formidable vassal, possessed as he was of almost 
 all the Low Countries, then the richest portion of 
 Europe. At the head of the long board, which 
 groaned under plate of gold and silver, filled to pro- 
 fusion with the most exquisite dainties, sat the 
 Duke, and on his right hand, upon a seat more ele- 
 vated than his own, was placed his royal guest. 
 Behind him stood on one side the son of the Duke of 
 Gueldres, who officiated as his grand carver on 
 the other, Le Glorieux, his jester, without whom he 
 seldom stirred ; for, like most men of his hasty and 
 coarse character, Charles carried to extremity the 
 general taste of that age for court-fools and jesters 
 experiencing that pleasure in their display of eccen- 
 tricity and mental infirmity, which his more acute, 
 but not more benevolent rival, loved better to extract 
 from marking the imperfections of humanity in its 
 nobler specimens, and finding subject for mirth in 
 
QUENTIN DURWAKD. 169 
 
 the rt fears of the brave, and follies of the wise/ 
 And indeed, if the anecdote related by Bran tome 
 be true, that a court-fool, having overheard Louis, 
 in one of his agonies of repentant devotion, confess 
 his accession to the poisoning of his brother, Henry 
 Count of Guyenne, divulged, it next day at dinner 
 before the assembled court, that monarch might 
 be supposed rather more than satisfied with the 
 pleasantries of professed jesters for the rest of his 
 life. 
 
 But, on the present occasion, Louis neglected not 
 to take notice of the favourite buffoon of the Duke, 
 and to applaud his repartees ; which he did the 
 rather, that he thought he saw that the folly of Le 
 Glorieux, however grossly it was sometimes dis- 
 played, covered more than the usual quantity of 
 shrewd and caustic observation proper to his class. 
 
 In fact, Tiel W etzweiler, called Le Glorieux, 
 was by no means a jester of the common stamp/ 
 He was a tall, fine-looking man, excellent at many 
 exercises, which seemed scarce reconcilable with 
 mental imbecility, because it must have required 
 patience and attention to attain them. He usually 
 followed the Duke to the chase and to the fight , 
 and at Montl'hery, when Charles was in consider- 
 able personal danger, wounded in the throat, and 
 likely to be made prisoner by a French knight who 
 had hold of his horse's rein, Tiel Wetzweiler charged 
 the assailant so forcibly, as to overthrow him 
 and disengage his master. Perhaps he was afraid 
 of this being thought too serious a service for a 
 person of his condition, and that it might excite him 
 enemies among those knights and nobles, who had 
 left the care of their master's person to the court- 
 fool. At any rate, he chose rather to be laugh <** 
 
ijo QUENTIN DUB.WARD. 
 
 at than praised for his achievement, and made such 
 gasconading boasts of his exploits in the battle, that 
 most men thought the rescue of Charles was as ideal 
 as the rest of his tale ; and it was on this occasion 
 he acquired the title of Le Glorieux, (or the boast- 
 ful,) by which he was ever afterwards distinguished. 
 
 Le Glorieux was dressed very richly, but with 
 little of the usual distinction of his profession ; and 
 that little rather of a symbolical than a very literal 
 character. His head was not shorn ; on the con- 
 trary, he wore a profusion of long curled hair, which 
 descended from under his cap, and joining with a 
 well-arranged, and handsomely trimmed beard, set 
 off features, which, but for a wild lightness of eye, 
 might have been termed handsome. A ridge of 
 scarlet velvet carried across the top of his cap, 
 indicated, rather than positively represented, the 
 professional cock's-comb, which distinguished the 
 head-gear of a fool in right of office. His bauble, 
 made of ebony, was crested, as usual, with a fool's 
 head, with ass's ears formed of silver ; but so small, 
 and so minutely carved, that, till very closely ex- 
 amined, it might have passed for an official baton of 
 a more solemn character. These were the only 
 badges of his office which his dress exhibited. In 
 other respects, it was such as to match with that of 
 the most courtly nobles. His bonnet displayed a 
 medal of gold ; he wore a chain of the same metal 
 around his neck ; and the fashion of his rich garments 
 was not much more fantastic than those of young 
 gallants who have their clothes made in the ex- 
 tremity of the existing fashion. 
 
 To this personage Charles, and Louis, in imita- 
 tion of his host, often addressed themselves during 
 the entertainment ; and both seemed to manifest. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 171 
 
 by hearty laughter, their amusement at the answers 
 of Le Glorieux. 
 
 " Whose seats be those that are vacant ? " said 
 Charles to the jester. 
 
 " One of those at least should be mine by right 
 of succession, Charles," replied Le Glorieux. 
 
 " Why so, knave ? " said Charles. 
 
 "Because they belong to the Sieur D'Hymber- 
 court and Pes Comines . who are gone so tar to tiy 
 their falcons, that they have forgot their supper. 
 They who would rather look at a kite on the wing 
 than a pheasant on the board, are of kin to the fool, 
 and he should succeed to the stools, as a part of 
 their movable estate." 
 
 " That is but a stale jest, my friend Tiel," said 
 the Duke ; " but, fools or wise men, here come the 
 defaulters." 
 
 As he spoke, Comines and D'Hymbercourt en- 
 tered the room, and, after having made their rever- 
 ence to the two Princes, assumed in silence the 
 seats which were left vacant for them. 
 
 "What ho! sirs," exclaimed the Duke, address- 
 ing them, " your sport has been either very good 
 or very bad, to lead you so far and so late. .Six. 
 Philip des Comines , you are dejected hath D'Hym- 
 bercourt won so heavy a wager on you ? You are 
 a philosopher, and should not grieve at bad fortune. 
 By Saint George ! D'Hymbercourt looks as sad 
 as thou dost. How now, sirs ? Have you found 
 no game ? or have you lost your falcons ? or has a 
 witch crossed your way ? or has the Wild Hunts- 
 man 1 met you in the forest ? By my honour, you 
 
 1 The famous apparition, sometimes called le Grand Veneur 
 Sully gives some account of this hunting spectre. 
 
172 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 seem as if you were come to a funeral, not a 
 festival." 
 
 While the Duke spoke, the eyes of the company 
 were all directed towards D'Hymbercourt and Des 
 Comines ; and the embarrassment and dejection of 
 their countenances, neither being of that class of 
 persons to whom such expression of anxious mel- 
 ancholy was natural, became so remarkable, that 
 the mirth and laughter of the company, which the 
 rapid circulation of goblets of excellent wine had 
 raised to a considerable height, was gradually hushed ; 
 and, without being able to assign any reason for 
 such a change in their spirits, men spoke in whis- 
 pers to each other, as on the eve of expecting some 
 strange and important tidings. 
 
 " What means this silence, Messires ? " said the 
 Duke, elevating his voice, which was naturally 
 harsh. " If you bring these strange looks, and this 
 stranger silence, into festivity, we shall wish you 
 had abode in the marshes seeking for herons, or 
 rather for woodcocks and howlets " 
 
 " My gracious lord," said Des Comines, " as we 
 were about to return hither from the forest, we met 
 the Count of Crevecceur." 
 
 " How ! " said the Duke ; " already returned 
 from Brabant ? but he found all well there, 
 doubtless ? " 
 
 " The Count himself will presently give your 
 Grace an account of his news," said D'Hymber- 
 court, " which we have heard but imperfectly." 
 
 " Body of me, where is the Count ? " said the 
 Duke. 
 
 " He changes his dress, to wait upon your High- 
 ness," answered D'Hymbercourt. 
 
 " His dress ? Saint-Ueu ! " exclaimed the impa 
 
vJUENTIN DURWARD. 173 
 
 cient Prince, * what care I for his dress ? I think 
 you have conspired with him to drive me mad ! " 
 
 " Or rather, to be plain," said Des Comines, " he 
 wishes to communicate these news at a private 
 audience." 
 
 " Teste-dieu ! my Lord King," said Charles, " this 
 is ever the way our counsellors serve us If they 
 have got hold of aught which they consider as im- 
 portant for our ear, they look as grave upon the 
 matter, and are as proud of their burden as an ass 
 of a new packsaddle. Some one bid Crevecceur 
 come to us directly ! He comes from the frontiers 
 of Liege, and we, at least,"' (he laid some emphasis 
 on the pronoun,) " have no secrets in that quarter 
 which we would shun to have proclaimed before the 
 assembled world." 
 
 All perceived that the Duke had drunk so much 
 wine as to increase the native obstinacy of his 
 disposition ; and though many would willingly have 
 suggested that the present was neither a time for 
 hearing news, nor for taking counsel, yet all knew 
 the impetuosity of his temper too well to venture 
 on farther interference, and sat in anxious expe( 
 tation of the tidings which the Count might have to 
 communicate. 
 
 A brief interval intervened, during which the 
 Duke remained looking eagerly to the door, as if 
 in a transport of impatience, whilst the guests sat 
 with their eyes bent on the table, as if to conceal 
 their curiosity and anxiety. Louis alone maintain- 
 ing perfect composure, continued his conversation 
 alternately with the grand carver and with the 
 jester. 
 
 At length Crevecceur entered, and was presently 
 saluted by the hurried question of his master 
 
174 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 " What news from Liege and Brabant, Sir Count 
 
 the report of your arrival has chased mirth from 
 our table We hope your actual presence will bring 
 it back to us." 
 
 "My liege and master," answered the Count, 
 in a firm, but melancholy tone, " the news which 
 I bring you are fitter for the council board than the 
 feasting table." 
 
 " Out with them, man, if they were tidings from 
 Antichrist ! " said the Duke ; " but I can guess them 
 
 the Liegeois are again in mutiny." 
 
 " They are, my lord," said Crevecoeur, very 
 gravely. 
 
 " Look there, man," said the Duke, " I have hit 
 at once on what you have been so much afraid to 
 mention to me the harebrained burghers are 
 again in arms. It could not be in better time, for 
 we may at present have the advice of our own 
 Suzerain," bowing to King Louis, with eyes which 
 spoke the most bitter, though suppressed resent- 
 ment, " to teach us how such mutineers should be 
 dealt with. Hast thou more news in thy packet ? 
 Out with them, and then answer for yourself why 
 you went not forward to assist the Bishop." 
 
 " My lord, the farther tidings are heavy . for me 
 to tell, and will be afflicting to you to hear. No 
 aid of mine, or of living chivalry, could have availed 
 the excellent Prelate. William de la Marck, united 
 with the insurgent Liegeois, has taken his castle 
 of Schonwaldt, and murdered him in his own 
 hall." 
 
 "Murdered Mm ! " repeated the Duke, in a deep 
 and low tone, but which nevertheless was heard 
 from the one end of the hall in which they were 
 assembled to the other ; v ' thou hast been imposed 
 
QTJENTIN DURWAKD. 175 
 
 upon, Crevecceur, by some wild report it is 
 impossible I " 
 
 " Alas ! my lord ! " said the Count, " I have it 
 from an eyewitness, an archer of the King of 
 France's Scottish Guard, who was in the hall when 
 the murder was committed by William de la Marck's 
 order." 
 
 " And who was doubtless aiding and abetting in 
 the horrible sacrilege ! " exclaimed the Duke, starting 
 up and stamping with his foot with such fury, that 
 he dashed in pieces the footstool which was placed 
 before him. " Bar the doors of this hall, gentle- 
 men secure the windows let no stranger stir 
 from his seat, upon pain of instant death ! Gen- 
 tlemen of my chamber, draw your swords." And 
 turning upon Louis, he advanced his own hand 
 slowly and deliberately to the hilt of his weapon, 
 while the King, without either showing fear or 
 assuming a defensive posture, only said, 
 
 "These news, fair cousin, have staggered your 
 reason." 
 
 "No!" replied the Duke, in a terrible tone, 
 "but they have awakened a just resentment, which 
 I have too long suffered to be stifled by trivial con- 
 siderations of circumstance and place. Murderer 
 of thy brother ! rebel against thy parent ! tyrant 
 over thy subjects ! treacherous ally ! perjured 
 King ! dishonoured gentleman ! thou art in my 
 power, and I thank God for it." 
 
 "Kather thank my folly," said the King; "for 
 when we met on equal terms at Monti' hery, me- 
 thinks you wished yourself farther from me than we 
 are now." 
 
 The Duke still held his hand on the hilt of his 
 sword, but refrained to draw his weapon, or to 
 
no CUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 strike a foe, who offered no sort of resistance which 
 could in anywise provoke violence. 
 
 Meanwhile, wild and general confusion spread 
 itself through the hall. The doors were now fas- 
 tened and guarded hy order of the Duke ; but several 
 of the French nobles, few as they were in number, 
 started from their seats, and prepared for the de- 
 fence of their Sovereign. Louis had spoken not a 
 word either to Orleans or Dunois since they were 
 liberated from restraint at the Castle of Loches. 
 if it could be termed liberation, to be dragged in 
 King Louis's train, objects of suspicion evidently, 
 rather than of respect and regard ; but, neverthe- 
 less, the voice of Dunois was first heard above the 
 tumult, addressing himself to the Duke of Bur- 
 gundy. " Sir Duke, you have forgotten that you 
 are a vassal of France, and that we, your guests, are 
 Frenchmen. If you lift a hand against our Mon- 
 arch, prepare to sustain the utmost effects of our 
 despair ; for, credit me, we shall feast as high with 
 the blood of Burgundy as we have done with its 
 wine. Courage, my Lord of Orleans and you, 
 gentlemen of France, form yourselves round Dunois, 
 and do as he does ! " 
 
 Ic was in that moment when a King might see 
 upon what tempers he could certainly rely. The 
 few independent nobles and knights who attended 
 Louis, most of whom had only received from him 
 frowns of discountenance, unappalled by the dis- 
 play of infinitely superior force, and the certainty 
 of destruction in case they came to blows, hastened 
 to array themselves around Dunois, and, led by 
 him, to press towards the head of the table where 
 the contending Princes were seated. 
 
 On the contrary, the tools and agents whom 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 177 
 
 Louis had dragged forward out of their fitting and 
 natural places, into importance which was not due 
 to them, showed cowardice and cold heart, and, 
 remaining still in their seats, seemed resolved not 
 to provoke their fate by intermeddling, whatever 
 might become of their benefactor. 
 
 The first of the more generous party was the 
 venerable Lord Crawford, who, with an agility 
 which no one would have expected at his years, 
 forced his way through all opposition, (which was 
 the less violent, as many of the Burgundians, either 
 from a point of honour, or a secret inclination to 
 prevent Louis's impending fate, gave way to him,) 
 and threw himself boldly between the King and the 
 Duke. He then placed his bonnet, from which his 
 white hair escaped in dishevelled tresses, upon one 
 side of his head his pale cheek and withered brow 
 coloured, and his aged eye lightened with all the 
 fire of a gallant who is about to dare some despe- 
 rate action. His cloak was flung over one shoulder, 
 and his action intimated his readiness to wrap it 
 about his left arm, while he unsheathed his sword 
 with his right. 
 
 " I have fought for his father and his grandsire," 
 that was all he said, "and, by Saint Andrew, end' 
 the matter as it will, I will not fail him at this 
 pinch." 
 
 What has taken some time to narrate, happened, 
 in fact, with the speed of light ; for so soon as the 
 Duke assumed his threatening posture, Crawford 
 had thrown himself betwixt him and the object of 
 his vengeance ; and the French gentlemen, draw- 
 ing together as fast as they could,, were crowding 
 to the same point 
 
 The Duke of Burgundy still remained with his 
 
 VOL. II. 12 
 
178 QUENTIN DUKWARD. 
 
 hand on his sword, and seemed in the act of giving 
 the signal for a general onset, which must neces- 
 sarily have ended in the massacre of the weaker 
 party, when Crevecceur rushed forward, and ex- 
 claimed, in a voice like a trumpet, " My liege 
 Lord of Burgundy, beware what you do ! This is 
 your hall you are the King's vassal do not 
 spill the blood of your guest on your hearth, the 
 blood of your Sovereign on the throne you have 
 erected for him, and to which he came under your 
 safeguard. For the sake of your house's honour, do 
 not attempt to revenge one horrid murder by an- 
 other yet worse ! " 
 
 " Out of my road, Crevecceur," answered the 
 Duke, " and let my vengeance pass ! Out of my 
 path ! The wrath of Kings is to be dreaded like 
 that of Heaven." 
 
 " Only when, like that of Heaven, it is just" 
 answered Crevecceur, firmly " Let me pray of 
 you, my lord, to rein the violence of your temper, 
 however justly offended. And for you, my Lords 
 of France, where resistance is unavailing, let me 
 recommend you to forbear whatever may lead 
 towards bloodshed." 
 
 "He is right," said Louis, whose coolness for- 
 sook him not in that dreadful moment, and who 
 easily foresaw, that if a brawl should commence, 
 more violence would be dared and done in the heat 
 of blood, than was likely to be attempted if peace 
 were preserved. " My cousin Orleans kind Du- 
 nois and you, my trusty Crawford bring not 
 on ruin and bloodshed by taking offence too hastily. 
 Our cousin the Duke is chafed at the tidings of 
 the death of a near and loving friend, the venerable 
 Bishop of Liege, whose slaughter we lament as he 
 
QUENT1N DURWARD. 179 
 
 does. Ancient, and, unhappily, recent subjects of 
 jealousy, lead him to suspect us of having abetted 
 a crime which our bosom abhors. Should our host 
 murder us on this spot us, his King and his kins- 
 man, under a false impression of our being acces- 
 sory to this unhappy accident, our fate will be little 
 lightened, but, on the contrary, greatly aggravated, 
 by your stirring. Therefore, stand back, Crawford 
 
 Were it my last word, I speak as a King to his 
 officer, and demand obedience Stand back, and, if 
 it is required, yield up your sword. I command 
 you to do so, and your oath obliges you to obey." 
 
 "True, true, my lord," said Crawford, stepping 
 back, and returning to the sheath the blade he had 
 half drawn " It may be all very true ; but, by my 
 honour, if I were at the head of threescore and ten 
 of my brave fellows, instead of being loaded with 
 more than the like number of years, I would try 
 whether I could have some reason out of these fine 
 gallants, with their golden chains and looped-up 
 bonnets, with braw-warld dyes and devices on 
 them." 
 
 The Duke stood with his eyes fixed on the 
 ground for a considerable space, and then said, 
 with bitter irony, " Crevecceur, you say well; and 
 it concerns our honour, that our obligations to this 
 great King, our honoured and loving guest, be not 
 so hastily adjusted, as in our hasty anger we had 
 at first proposed. We will so act, that all Europe 
 shall acknowledge the justice of our proceedings. 
 
 Gentlemen of France, you must render up your 
 arms to my officers ! Your master has broken the 
 truce, and has no title to take farther benefit of 
 it. In compassion, however, to your sentiments of 
 honour, and in respect to the rank which he hath 
 
180 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 disgraced, and the race from which he hath degen- 
 erated, we ask not our cousin Louis's sword." 
 
 " Not one oi us," said Dunois, " will resign our 
 weapon, or quit this hall, unless* we are assured of 
 at least our King's safety, in life and limb." 
 
 " Nor will a man of the Scottish Guard," ex- 
 claimed Crawford, "lay down his arms, save at 
 the command of the King of France, or his High 
 Constable." 
 
 " Brave Dunois," said Louis, " and you, my trusty 
 Crawford, your zeal will do me injury instead of 
 benefit. I trust," he added with dignity, " in my 
 rightful cause, more than in a vain resistance, 
 which would but cost the lives of my best and 
 bravest. Give up your swords the noble Bur- 
 gundians, who accept such honourable pledges, will 
 be more able than you are to protect both you and 
 me. Give up your swords It is I who command 
 
 you." 
 
 It was thus that, in this dreadful emergency, 
 Louis showed the promptitude of decision, and 
 clearness of judgment, which alone could have 
 saved his life. He was aware, that until actual 
 blows were exchanged, he should have the assist- 
 ance of most of the nobles present to moderate the 
 fury of their Prince; but that were a melee once 
 commenced, he himself and his few adherents must 
 be instantly murdered. At the same time, his worst 
 enemies confessed, that his demeanour had in it 
 nothing either of meanness, or cowardice. He 
 shunned to aggravate into frenzy the wrath of the 
 Duke; but he neither deprecated nor seemed to 
 fear it, and continued to look on him with the 
 calm and fixed attention with which a brave man 
 eyes the menacing gestures of a lunatic, whilst 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 181 
 
 conscious that his own steadiness and composure 
 operate as an insensible and powerful check on 
 the rage even of insanity. 
 
 Crawford, at the King's command, threw his 
 sword to Crevecceur, saying, "Take it! and the 
 devil give you joy of it. It is no dishonour to the 
 rightful owner who yields it, for we have had no 
 fair play." 
 
 "Hold, gentlemen," said the Duke, in a broken 
 voice, as one whom passion had almost deprived 
 of utterance,-," retain your swords; it is sufficient 
 you promise not to use them. And you, Louis 
 of Valois, must regard yourself as my prisoner, 
 until you are cleared of having abetted sacrilege 
 and murder. Have him to the Castle Have him 
 to Earl Herbert's Tower. Let him have six gentle- 
 men of his train to attend him, such as he shall 
 choose. My Lord of Crawford, your guard must 
 leave the Castle, and shall be honourably quartered 
 elsewhere. Up with every drawbridge, and down 
 with every portcullis Let the gates of the town 
 be trebly guarded Draw the floating-bridge to 
 the right-hand side of the river Bring round the 
 Castle my band of Black Walloons, and treble the 
 sentinels on every post ! You, D'Hymbercourt, 
 look that patrols of horse and foot make the round 
 of the town every half-hour during the night, and 
 every hour during the next day, if indeed such 
 ward shall be necessary after daybreak, for it is 
 like we may be sudden in this matter. Look to 
 the person of Louis, as you love your life ! " 
 
 He started from the table in fierce and moody 
 haste, darted a glance of mortal enmity at the King 
 and rushed out of the apartment. 
 
 " Sirs," said the King, looking with dignity 
 
1*3 QUENTIN DUIIWAJID. 
 
 around him, " grief for the death of his ally hath 
 made your Prince frantic. I trust you know better 
 your duty, as knights and noblemen, than to abet 
 him in his treasonable violence against the person 
 of his liege Lord." 
 
 At this moment was heard in the streets the 
 sound of drums beating, and horns blowing, to call 
 out the soldiery in every direction. 
 
 " We are," said Crevecceur, who acted as the 
 Marshal of the Duke's household, " subjects of 
 Burgundy, and must do our duty as such. Our 
 hopes and prayers, and our efforts, will not be 
 wanting to bring about peace and union between 
 your Majesty and our liege Lord. Meantime, we 
 must obey his commands. These other lords and 
 knights will be proud to contribute to the con- 
 venience of the illustrious Duke of Orleans, of the 
 brave Dunois, and the stout Lord Crawford. I 
 myself must be your Majesty's chamberlain, and 
 bring you to your apartments in other guise than 
 would be my desire, remembering the hospitality 
 of Plessis. You have only to choose your atten- 
 dants, whom the Duke's commands limit to six." 
 
 " Then," said the King, looking around him, and 
 thinking for a moment, "I desire the attendance 
 of Oliver le Dain, of a private of my Life-Guard, 
 called Balafre', who may be unarmed if you will 
 of Tristan THermite, with two of his people and 
 my right loyal and trusty philosopher, Martius 
 Galeotti." 
 
 " Your Majesty's will shall be complied with in 
 all points," said the Count de Crevecoeur. " Gale- 
 otti," he added, after a moment's enquiry, "is, I 
 understand, at present supping in some buxom 
 company, but he shall instantly be sent for; the 
 
QUENTIN DURWAB-D. 183 
 
 others will obey your Majesty's command upon the 
 instant." 
 
 "Forward, then, to the new abode, which the 
 hospitality of our cousin provides for us," said the 
 King. " We know it is strong, and have only to 
 hope it may be in a corresponding degree safe." 
 
 " Heard you the choice which King Louis has 
 made of his attendants?" saidLe Glorieux to Couni: 
 Crevecceur apart, as they followed Louis from the 
 Hall. 
 
 " Surely, my merry gossip," replied the Count, 
 " What hast thou to object to them ? " 
 
 " Nothing, nothing only they are a rare election ! 
 A panderly barber a Scottish hired cut- throat 
 a chief hangman and his two assistants, and a 
 thieving charlatan. I will along with you, Creve- 
 coeur, and take a lesson in the degrees of roguery, 
 from observing your skill in marshalling them. The 
 devil himself could scarce have summoned such a 
 synod, or have been a better president amongst 
 them." 
 
 Accordingly, the all-licensed jester, seizing the 
 Count's arm familiarly, began to march along with 
 him, while, under a strong guard, yet forgetting 
 no semblance of respect, he conducted the King 
 towards his new apartment. 1 
 
 1 Note V. 
 
CHAPTEE XL 
 
 UNCERTAINTY. 
 
 Then happy low, He down ; 
 Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. 
 
 Henry IV. Part Second. 
 
 Forty men-at-arms, carrying alternately naked 
 swords and blazing torches, served as the escort, or 
 rather the guard, of King Louis, from the town- 
 hall of Peronne to the Castle ; and as he entered 
 within its darksome and gloomy strength, it seemed 
 as if a voice screamed in his ear that warning which 
 the Florentine has inscribed over the portal of the 
 infernal regions, " Leave all hope behind ! " 
 
 At that moment, perhaps, some feeling of remorse 
 might have crossed the King's mind, had he thought 
 on the hundreds, nay thousands, whom, without 
 cause, or on light suspicion, he had committed to 
 the abysses of his dungeons, deprived of all hope of 
 liberty, and loathing even the life to which they 
 clung by animal instinct. 
 
 The broad glare of the torches outfacing the pale 
 moon, which was more obscured on this than on the 
 former night, and the red smoky light which they 
 dispersed around the ancient buildings, gave a darker 
 shade to that huge donjon, called the Earl Her- 
 bert's Tower. It was the same that Louis had 
 
QUENTIN DURWARJ). 185 
 
 viewed with misgiving presentiment on the preced- 
 ing evening, and of which he was now doomed to 
 become an inhabitant, under the terror of what vio- 
 lence soever the wrathful temper of his overgrown 
 vassal might tempt him to exercise in those secret 
 recesses of despotism. 
 
 To aggravate the King's painful feelings, he saw, 
 as he crossed the court-yard, several bodies, over 
 each of which had been hastily flung a military 
 cloak. He was not long of discerning that they 
 were corpses of slain archers of the Scottish Guard, 
 who having disputed, as the Count Crevecoeur 
 informed him, the command given them to quit the 
 post near the King's apartments, a brawl had 
 ensued between them and the Duke's Walloon body- 
 guards, and before it could be composed by the 
 officers on either side, several lives had been lost. 
 
 " My trusty Scots ! " said the King, as he looked 
 upon this melancholy spectacle ; " had they brought 
 only man to man, all Flanders, ay, and Burgundy 
 to boot, had not furnished champions to mate 
 you." 
 
 "Yes, an it please your Majesty," said Balafre*, 
 who attended close behind the King, " Maistery 
 mows the meadow few men can fight more than 
 two at once. I myself never care to meet three, 
 unless it be in the way of special duty, when one 
 must not stand to count heads." 
 
 " Art thou there, old acquaintance ? " said the 
 King, looking behind him ; " then I have one true 
 subject with me yet." 
 
 " And a faithful minister, whether in your coun- 
 cils, or in his offices about your royal person," whis' 
 pered Oliver le Dain. 
 
 "We are all faithful," said Tristan l'Hermite, 
 
tU QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 gruffly ; " for should they put to death your Ma- 
 jesty, there is no one of us whom they would suf- 
 fer to survive you, even if we would." 
 
 " Now, that is what I call good corporal bail for 
 fidelity," said Le Glorieux, who, as already men- 
 tioned, with the restlessness proper to an infirm 
 brain, had thrust himself into their company. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Seneschal, hastily summoned, 
 was turning with laborious effort the ponderous key 
 which opened the reluctant gate of the huge Gothic 
 Keep, and was at last fain to call for the assistance 
 of one of Crevecoeur's attendants. When they had 
 succeeded, six men entered with torches, and showed 
 the way through a narrow and winding passage, 
 commanded at different points by shot-holes from 
 vaults and casements constructed behind, and in the 
 thickness of the massive walls. At the end of this 
 passage, arose a stair of corresponding rudeness, 
 consisting of huge blocks of stone, roughly dressed 
 with the hammer, and of unequal height. Having 
 mounted this ascent, a strong iron-clenched door 
 admitted them to what had been the great hall of 
 the donjon, lighted but very faintly even during the 
 daytime, (for the apertures, diminished in appear- 
 ance by the excessive thickness of the walls, re- 
 sembled slits rather than windows,) and now, but for 
 the blaze of the torches, almost perfectly dark. 
 Two or three bats, and other birds of evil presage, 
 roused by the unusual glare, flew against the lights, 
 and threatened to extinguish them ; while the Sen- 
 eschal formally apologized to the King, that the 
 State-hall had not been put in order, such was the 
 hurry of the notice sent to him ; and adding, that, 
 in truth, the apartment had not been in use for 
 twenty years, and rarely before that time, so far as 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 187 
 
 ever he had heard, since the time of King Charles 
 the Simple. 
 
 " King Charles the Simple ! " echoed Louis ; " I 
 know the history of the Tower now. He was here 
 murdered by his treacherous vassal, Herbert, Earl 
 of Vermandois So say our annals. I knew there 
 was something concerning the Castle of Peronne 
 which dwelt on my mind, though I could not recall 
 the circumstance. Here, then, my predecessor was 
 slain ? " 
 
 " Not here, not exactly here, and please your 
 Majesty," said the old Seneschal, stepping with the 
 eager haste of a ci ceron e, who shows the curiosities 
 of such a place " Not here, but in the side-chamber 
 a little onward, which opens from your Majesty's 
 bedchamber." 
 
 He hastily opened a wicket at the upper end of 
 the hall, which led into a bedchamber, small, as is 
 usual in such old buildings ; but, even for that rea- 
 son, rather more comfortable than the waste hall 
 through which they had passed. Some hasty pre- 
 parations had been here made for the King's ac- 
 commodation. Arras had been tacked up, a fire 
 lighted in the rusty grate, which had been long un- 
 used, and a pallet laid down for those gentlemen 
 who were to pass the night in his chamber, as was 
 then usual. 
 
 " We will get beds in the hall for the rest of your 
 attendants," said the garrulous old man ; " but we 
 have had such brief notice, if it please your Ma- 
 jesty And if it please your Majesty to look upon 
 this little wicket behind the arras, it opens into the 
 little old cabinet in the thickness of the wall where 
 Charles was slain ; and there is a secret passage 
 from below, which admitted the men who were ta 
 
188 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 deal with him. And your Majesty, whose eyesight 
 I hope is better than mine, may see the blood still 
 on the oak-floor, though the thing was done five 
 hundred years ago." 
 
 While he thus spoke, he kept fumbling to open 
 the postern of which he spoke, until the King said, 
 " Forbear, old man forbear but a little while, 
 when thou mayst have a newer tale to tell, and 
 fresher blood to show. My Lord of Crevecoeur, 
 what say you ? " 
 
 " I can but answer, Sire, that these two interior 
 apartments are as much at your Majesty's disposal 
 as those in your own Castle at Plessis, and that 
 Crevecoeur, a name never blackened by treachery 
 or assassination, has the guard of the exterior de- 
 fences of it." 
 
 "But the private passage into that closet, of 
 which the old man speaks ? " This King Louis 
 said in a low and anxious tone, holding Crevecceur's 
 arm fast with one hand, and pointing to the wicket 
 door with the other. 
 
 "It must be some dream of Mornay's," said 
 Crevecoeur, " or some old and absurd tradition of 
 the place ; but we will examine. ,, 
 
 He was about to open the closet door, when Louis 
 answered, " No, Crevecoeur, no Your honour is 
 sufficient warrant. But what will your Duke do 
 with me, Crevecoeur ? He cannot hope to keep me 
 long a prisoner ; and in short, give me your opi- 
 nion, Crevecoeur." 
 
 " My Lord and Sire," said the Count, " how the 
 Duke of Burgundy must resent this horrible cruelty 
 on the person of his near relative and ally, is for 
 your Majesty to judge; and what right he may 
 have to consider it as instigated by your Majesty's 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 189 
 
 emissaries, you only can know. But my master is 
 noble in his disposition, and made incapable, even 
 by the very strength of his passions, of any under- 
 hand practices. Whatever he does, will be done 
 in the face of day, and of the two nations. And I 
 can but add, that it will be the wish of every coun- 
 sellor around him excepting perhaps one that 
 he should behave in this matter with mildness and 
 generosity, as well as justice." 
 
 " Ah ! Crevecoeur," said Louis, taking his hand 
 as if affected by some painful recollections, "how 
 happy is the Prince who has counsellors near him, 
 who can guard him against the effects of his own 
 angry passions ! Their names will be read in golden 
 letters, when the history of his reign is perused. 
 Noble Crevecoeur, had it been my lot to have such 
 as thou art about my person ! " 
 
 " It had in that case been your Majesty's study 
 to have got rid of them as fast as you could," said 
 Le Glorieux. 
 
 " Aha ! Sir Wisdom, art thou there ? " said Louis, 
 turning round, and instantly changing the pathetic 
 tone in which he had addressed Crevecoeur, and 
 adopting with facility one which had a turn of 
 gaiety in it " Hast thou followed us hither ? " 
 
 " Ay, sir," answered Le Glorieux, " Wisdom must fol- 
 low in motley, where Folly leads the way in purple." 
 
 "How shall I construe that, Sir Solomon," an- 
 swered Louis " Wouldst thou change conditions 
 with me ? ' 
 
 " Not I, by my halidome," quoth Le Glorieux, 
 " if you would give me fifty crowns to boot." 
 
 " Why, wherefore so ? Methinks I could be 
 well enough contented, as princes go, to have thee 
 for my king." 
 
190 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 " Ay, Sire," replied Le Glorieux ; " but the ques- 
 tion is, whether, judging of your Majesty's wit from 
 its having lodged you here, I should not have cause 
 to be ashamed of having so dull a fool." 
 
 " Peace, sirrah ! " said the Count of Crevecceur ; 
 " your tongue runs too fast." 
 
 " Let it take its course," said the King ; " I know 
 of no such fair subject of raillery, as the follies of 
 those who should know better. Here, my saga- 
 cious friend, take this purse of gold, and with it the 
 advice, never to be so great a fool as to deem your- 
 self wiser than other people. Prithee, do me so 
 much favour as to enquire after my astrologer, Mar- 
 tius Galeotti, and send him hither to me presently." 
 
 " I will, without fail, my Liege," answered the 
 jester ; " and I wot well I shall find him at Jan 
 Dopplethur's ; for philosophers, as well as fools, 
 know where the best wine is sold." 
 
 * Let me pray for free entrance for this learned 
 person through your guards, Seignior de Creve- 
 coeur," said Louis. 
 
 " For his entrance, unquestionably," answered 
 the Count ; " but it grieves me to add, that my 
 instructions do not authorize me to permit any one 
 to quit your Majesty's apartments. I wish your 
 Majesty a good night," he subjoined, " and will 
 presently make such arrangements in the outer hall, 
 as may put the gentlemen who are to inhabit it, 
 more at their ease." 
 
 " Give yourself no trouble for them, Sir Count," 
 replied the King, " they are men accustomed to set 
 hardships at defiance ; and, to speak truth, except- 
 ing that I wish to see Galeotti, I would desire as 
 little further communication from without this night 
 as may be consistent with your instructions." 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 191 
 
 These are; to leave your Majesty," replied 
 Crevecoeur, " undisputed possession of your own 
 apartments. Such are my master's orders." 
 
 " Your master, Count Crevecoeur," answered Louis, 
 " whom I may also term mine, is a right gracious 
 master. My dominions," he added, " are somewhat 
 shrunk in compass, now that they have dwindled 
 to an old hall and a bedchamber ; but they are still 
 wide enough for all the subjects which I can at 
 present boast of." 
 
 The Count of Crevecoeur took his leave ; and 
 shortly after, they could hear the noise of the sen- 
 tinels moving to their posts, accompanied with the 
 word of command from the officers, and the hasty 
 tread of the guards who were relieved. At length 
 all became still, and the only sound which filled the 
 air, was the sluggish murmur of the river Somme, 
 as it glided, deep and muddy, under the walls of 
 the castle. 
 
 " Go into the hall, my mates," said Louis to his 
 train ; " but do not lie down to sleep. Hold your- 
 selves in readiness, for there is still something to 
 be done to-night, and that of moment." 
 
 Oliver and Tristan retired to the hall accordingly, 
 in which Le Balafre' and the Provost-Marshal's two 
 officers had remained, when the others entered the 
 bedchamber. They found that those without had 
 thrown fagots enough upon the fire, to serve the 
 purpose of light and heat at the same time, and, 
 wrapping themselves in their cloaks, had sat down 
 on tb/j floor, in postures which variously expressed 
 the discomposure and dejection of their minds. 
 Oliver and Tristan saw nothing better to be done, 
 tb an to follow their example ; and, never very good 
 Mends in the days of their court-prosperity, they were 
 
192 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 both equally reluctant to repose confidence in each 
 other upon this strange and sudden reverse of fortune. 
 So that the whole party sat in silent dejection. 
 
 Meanwhile, their master underwent, in the re- 
 tirement of his secret chamber, agonies that might 
 have atoned for some of those which had been im- 
 posed by his command. He paced the room with 
 short and unequal steps, often stood still and clasped 
 his hands together, and gave loose, in short, to agi- 
 tation, which, in public, he had found himself able 
 to suppress so successfully. At length, pausing, 
 and wringing his hands, he planted himself opposite 
 to the wicket-door, which had been pointed out by 
 old Mornay as leading to the scene of the murder 
 of one of- his predecessors, and gradually gave voice 
 to his feelings in a broken soliloquy. 
 
 " Charles the Simple Charles the Simple ! 
 what will posterity call the Eleventh Louis, whose 
 blood will probably soon refresh the stains of thine ? 
 Louis the Fool Louis the Driveller Louis the 
 Infatuated are all terms too slight to mark the 
 extremity of my idiocy ! To thinK these hotheaded 
 Liegeois, to whom rebellion is as natural as their 
 food, would remain quiet to dream that the Wild 
 Beast of Ardennes would, for a moment, be inter- 
 rupted in his career of force and bloodthirsty bru- 
 tality to suppose that I could use reason and 
 arguments to any good purpose with Charles of 
 Burgundy, until I had tried the force of such ex- 
 hortations with success upon a wild bull Fool, and 
 double idiot that I was ! But the villain Martius 
 shall not escape He has been at the bottom of this, 
 he and the vile priest, the detestable Balue. 1 If I 
 
 1 Louis kept his promise of vengeance against Cardinal La 
 Balue, whom he always blamed as having betrayed him to 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 193 
 
 ever get out of this danger, I will tear from his head 
 che Cardinal's cap, though I pull the scalp along with 
 it ! But the other traitor is in my hands I am yet 
 king enough have yet an empire roomy enough 
 for the punishment of the quack-salving, word- 
 mongering, star-gazing, lie -coining impostor, who 
 has at once made a prisoner and a dupe of me ! 
 The conjunction of the constellations ay, the 
 conjunction He must talk nonsense which would 
 scarce gull a thrice-sodden sheep's-head, and I must 
 be idiot enough to think I understood him ! But 
 we shall see presently what the conjunction hath 
 really boded. But first let me to my devotions." 
 
 Above the little door, in memory perhaps of the 
 deed which had been done within, was a rude niche, 
 containing a crucifix cut in stone. Upon this em- 
 blem the King fixed his eyes, as if about to kneel, 
 but stopped short, as if he applied to the blessed 
 image the principles of worldly policy, and deemed 
 it rash to approach its presence without having 
 secured the private intercession of some supposed 
 favourite. He therefore turned from the crucifix 
 as unworthy to look upon it, and selecting from the 
 images with which, as often mentioned, his hat was 
 completely garnished, a representation of the Lady 
 of Clery, knelt down before it, and made the follow- 
 ing extraordinary prayer ; in which, it is to be ob- 
 served, the grossness of his superstition induced 
 
 Burgundy. After he had returned to his own kingdom, he 
 caused his late favourite to be immured in one of the iron cages 
 at Loches. These were constructed with horrible ingenuity, so 
 that a person of ordinary size could neither stand up at his full 
 height nor lie lengthwise in them. Some ascribe this horrid de- 
 vice to Balue himself. At any rate, he was confined in one of these 
 dens for eleven years, nor did Louis permit him to be liberated till 
 his last illness. 
 
 VOL. II. 13 
 
194 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 him, in some degree, to consider the virgin of Clery 
 as a different person from the Madonna of Embrun, 
 a favourite idol, to whom he often paid his vows. 
 
 " Sweet Lady of Clery," (c) he exclaimed, clasping 
 his hands and beating his breast while he spoke 
 " blessed Mother of Mercy ! thou who art omnipo- 
 tent with Omnipotence, have compassion with me a 
 sinner ! It is true, that I have something neglected 
 thee for thy blessed sister of Embrun ; but I am a 
 King, my power is great, my wealth boundless ; and, 
 were it otherwise, I would double the gabelle on my 
 subjects, rather than not pay my debts to you both. 
 Undo these iron doors fill up these tremendous 
 moats lead me, as a mother leads a child, out of 
 this present and pressing danger ! If I have given 
 thy sister the county of Boulogne, to be held of her 
 for ever, have I no means of showing devotion to 
 thee also ? Thou shalt have the broad and rich pro- 
 vince of Champagne ; and its vineyards shall pour their 
 abundance into thy convent. I had promised the pro- 
 vince to my brother Charles ; but he, thou knowest, is 
 dead poisoned by that wicked Abbe* of Saint John 
 d'Angely, whom, if I live, I will punish ! I pro- 
 mised this once before, but this time I will keep my 
 word. If I had any knowledge of the crime, believe, 
 dearest patroness, it was because I knew no better 
 method of quieting the discontents of my kingdom. 
 O, do not reckon that old debt to my account to-day ; 
 but be, as thou hast ever been, kind, benignant, and 
 easy to be entreated I Sweetest Lady, work with 
 thy child, that he will pardon all past sins, and one 
 one little deed which I must do this night nay, 
 it is no sin, dearest Lady of Clery no sin, but an 
 act of justice privately administered ; for the villain 
 is the greatest impostor that ever poured falsehood 
 
QTJENTIN DURWAKD. 195 
 
 into a Prince's ear, and leans besides to the filthy- 
 heresy of the Greeks. He is not deserving of thy 
 protection ; leave him to my care ; and hold it as 
 good service that I rid the world of him, for the 
 man is a necromancer and wizard, that is not worth 
 thy thought and care a dog, the extinction of 
 whose life ought to be of as little consequence in 
 thine eyes, as the treading out a spark that drops 
 from a lamp, or springs from a fire. Think not of 
 this little matter, gentlest, kindest Lady, but only 
 consider how thou canst best aid me in my troubles! 
 and I here bind my royal signet to thy effigy, in 
 token that I will keep my word concerning the 
 county of Champagne, and that this shall be the 
 last time I will trouble thee in affairs of blood, 
 knowing thou art so kind, so gentle, and so 
 tender-hearted." 
 
 After this extraordinary contract with the object 
 of his adoration, Louis recited, apparently with deep 
 devotion, the seven penitential psalms in Latin, and 
 several aves and prayers especially belonging to the 
 service of the Virgin. He then arose, satisfied that 
 he had secured the intercession of the Saint to whom 
 he had prayed, the rather, as he craftily reflected, 
 that most of the sins for which he had requested 
 her mediation on former occasions had been of a 
 different character, and that, therefore, the Lady of 
 Clery was less likely to consider him as a hardened 
 and habitual shedder of blood, than the other saints 
 whom he had more frequently made confidants of 
 his crimes in that respect. 1 
 
 When he had thus cleared his conscience, or 
 rather whited it over like a sepulchre, the King 
 thrust his head out at the door of the hall, and sum- 
 Note VI. Prayer of Louis XI. 
 
196 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 moned Le Balaf r into his apartment. " My good 
 soldier," he said, " thou hast served me long, and 
 hast had little promotion. We are here in a case 
 where I may either live or die; but I would not 
 willingly die an ungrateful man, or leave, so far as 
 the saints may place it in my power, either a friend 
 or an enemy unrecompensed. Now, I have a friend 
 to be rewarded, that is thyself an enemy to be 
 punished according to his deserts, and that is the 
 base, treacherous villain, Martius Galeotti, who, by 
 his impostures and specious falsehoods, has trained 
 me hither into the power of my mortal enemy, 
 with as firm a purpose of my destruction, as ever 
 butcher had of slaying the beast which he drove to 
 the shambles." 
 
 " I will challenge him on that quarrel, since they 
 say he is a fighting blade, though he looks some- 
 what unwieldy," said Le Balafre*. "I doubt not 
 but the Duke of Burgundy is so much a friend to 
 men of the sword, that he will allow us a fair field 
 within some reasonable space ; and if your Majesty 
 live so long, and enjoy so much freedom, you shall 
 behold me do battle in your right, and take as 
 proper a vengeance on this philosopher as your 
 heart could desire." 
 
 " I commend your bravery and your devotion to 
 my service," said the King. " But this treacherous 
 villain is a stout man-at-arms, and I would not will- 
 ingly risk thy life, my brave soldier." 
 
 " I were no brave soldier, if it please your Ma- 
 jesty," said Balafre', " if I dared not face a better 
 man than he. A fine thing it would be for me, who 
 can neither read nor write, to be afraid of a fat lur- 
 dane, who has done little else all his life ! " 
 
 "Nevertheless," said the King, "it is not our 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 197 
 
 pleasure so to put thee in venture, Balafre\ This 
 traitor comes hither, summoned by our command. 
 We would have thee, so soon as thou canst find 
 occasion, close up with him, and smite him under 
 the fifth rib Dost thou understand me ? " 
 
 "Truly I do," answered Le Balafr<* ; "but, if 
 it please your Majesty, this is a matter entirely out 
 of my course of practice. I could not kill you a dog, 
 unless it were in hot assault, or pursuit, or upon 
 defiance given, or such like." 
 
 " Why sure thou dost not pretend to tenderness 
 of heart ? " said the King ; " thou who hast been 
 first in storm and siege, and most eager, as men tell 
 me, on the pleasures and advantages which are 
 gained on such occasions by the rough heart and 
 the bloody hand ? " 
 
 " My lord," answered Le Balafre', " I have neither 
 feared nor spared your enemies, sword in hand. 
 And an assault is a desperate matter, under risks 
 which raise a man's blood so, that, by Saint Andrew, 
 it will not settle for an hour or two, which I call 
 a fair license for plundering after a storm. And 
 God pity us poor soldiers, who are first driven mad 
 with danger, and then madder with victory. I have 
 heard of a legion consisting entirely of saints ; and 
 methinks it would take them all to pray and inter- 
 cede for the rest of the army, and for all who wear 
 plumes and corslets, buff-coats and broadswords. 
 But what your Majesty purposes is out of my 
 course of practice, though I will never deny that it 
 has been wide enough. As for the astrologer, if 
 he be a traitor, let him e'en die a traitor's death 
 I will neither meddle nor make with it. Your Ma- 
 jesty has your Provost, and two of his Marshal's- 
 men without, who are more fit for dealing with him 
 
198 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 than a Scottish gentleman of my family and stand- 
 ing in the service." 
 
 "You say well," said the King; "but, at least, 
 it belongs to thy duty to prevent interruption, and 
 to guard the execution of my most just sentence." 
 
 " I will do so against all Peronne ," said Le Bala- 
 fre\ " Your Majesty need not doubt my fealty in 
 that which I can reconcile to my conscience, which, 
 for mine own convenience and the service of your 
 royal Majesty, I can vouch to be a pretty large one 
 
 at least, I know I have done some deeds for your 
 Majesty, which I would rather have eaten a handful 
 of my own dagger than I would have done for any 
 else." 
 
 " Let that rest," said the King ; " and hear you 
 
 when Galeotti is admitted, and the door shut on 
 him, do you stand to your weapon, and guard the 
 entrance on the inside of the apartment. Let no 
 one intrude that is all I require of you. Go hence, 
 and send the Provost-Marshal to me." 
 
 Balafre' left the apartment accordingly, and in a 
 minute afterwards Tristan l'Hermite entered from 
 the hall. 
 
 " Welcome, gossip," said the King ; " what think- 
 est thou of our situation ? " 
 
 "As of men sentenced to death," said the Pro- 
 vost-Marshal, " unless there come a reprieve from 
 the Duke." 
 
 " Reprieved or not, he that decoyed us into this 
 snare shall go ourfourrier to the next world, to take 
 up lodgings for us," said the King, with a grisly 
 and ferocious smile. " Tristan, thou hast done many 
 an act of brave justice finis I should have 
 said funis coronat opus. Thou must stand by 
 me to the end." 
 
QUENTIN DURWAKD. 199 
 
 "I will, my liege," said Tristan; "I am but a 
 plain fellow, but I am grateful. I will do my duty 
 within these walls, or elsewhere ; and while I live, 
 your Majesty's breath shall pour as potential a note 
 of condemnation, and your sentence be as literally 
 executed, as when you sat on your own throne. 
 They may deal with me the next hour for it if they 
 will I care not." 
 
 " It is even what I expected of thee, my loving 
 gossip," said Louis ; " but hast thou good assis- 
 tance ? the traitor is strong and able-bodied, and 
 will doubtless be clamorous for aid. The Scot will 
 do nought but keep the door ; and well that he can 
 be brought to that, by flattery and humouring. Then 
 Oliver is good for nothing but lying, flattering, and 
 suggesting dangerous counsels; and, Ventre Saint- 
 dieu ! I think is more like one day to deserve the 
 halter himself, than to use it to another. Have you 
 men, think you, and means, to make sharp and sure 
 work ? " 
 
 "I have Trois-Eschelles and Petit- Andre* with 
 me," said he " men so expert in their office, that 
 out of three men, they would hang up one ere his 
 two companions were aware. And we have all 
 resolved to live or die with your Majesty, knowing 
 we shall have as short breath to draw when you are 
 gone, as ever fell to the lot of any of our patients. 
 But what is to be our present subject, an it please 
 your Majesty ? I love to be sure of my man ; for, 
 as your Majesty is pleased sometimes to remind 
 me, I have now and then mistaken the criminal, and 
 strung up in his place an honest labourer, who had 
 given your Majesty no offence." 
 
 "Most true," said the other. "Know then, Tris- 
 tan, that the condemned person is Martius Galeotti. 
 
200 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 You start, but it is even as I say. The villain 
 hath trained us all hither by false and treacherous 
 representations, that he might put us into the hands 
 of the Duke of Burgundy without defence." 
 
 " But not without vengeance ! " said Tristan ; 
 " were it the last act of my life, I would sting him 
 home like an expiring wasp, should I be crushed to 
 pieces on the next instant ! " 
 
 (i I know thy trusty spirit," said the King, " and 
 the pleasure which, like other good men, thou dost 
 find in the discharge of thy duty, since virtue, as 
 the schoolmen say, is its own reward. But away, 
 and prepare the priests, for the victim approaches." 
 
 " Would you have it done in your own presence, 
 my gracious liege ? " said Tristan. 
 
 Louis declined this offer ; but charged the Pro- 
 vost-Marshal to have every thing ready for the 
 punctual execution of his commands the moment 
 the astrologer left his apartment; "for," said the 
 King, " I will see the villain once more, just to 
 observe how he bears himself towards the master 
 whom he has led into the toils. I shall love to see 
 the sense of approaching death strike the colour 
 from that ruddy cheek, and dim that eye which 
 laughed as it lied. 0, that there were but another 
 with him, whose counsels aided his prognostica- 
 tions ! But if I survive this look to your scarlet, 
 my Lord Cardinal ! for Jtome shall scarce protect 
 you be it spoken under favour of Saint Peter and 
 the blessed Lady of Clery, who is all over mercy. 
 
 Why do you tarry ? Go get your grooms ready. 
 I expect the villain instantly. I pray to Heaven he 
 take not fear and come not ! that were indeed a 
 baulk. Begone, Tristan thou wert not wont to 
 be so slow when business was to be done." 
 
QUENTIN DURWABJ). 201 
 
 " On the contrary, an it like your Majesty, you 
 were ever wont to say that I was too fast, and mis- 
 took your purpose, and did the job on the wrong 
 subject. Now, please your Majesty to give me a 
 sign, just when you part with Galeotti for the night, 
 whether the business goes on or no. I have known 
 your Majesty once or twice change your mind, and 
 blame me for over-despatch." l 
 
 " Thou suspicious creature," answered King Louis, 
 " I tell thee I will not change my mind ; but to 
 silence thy remonstrances, observe, if I say to the 
 knave at parting, ' There is a Heaven above us ! ' 
 then let the business go on ; but if I say, * Go in 
 peace/ you will understand that my purpose is 
 altered." 
 
 " My head is somewhat of the dullest out of my 
 own department," said Tristan l'Hermite. "Stay, 
 let me rehearse If you bid him depart in peace, 
 I am to have him dealt upon ? " 
 
 " No, no idiot, no ! " said the King ; " in that 
 case you let him pass free. But if I say, ' There is 
 a Heaven above us ! ' up with him a yard or two 
 nearer the planets he is so conversant with." 
 
 " I wish we may have the means here," said the 
 Provost. 
 
 "Then up with him or down with him, it 
 matters not which," answered the King, grimly 
 smiling. 
 
 " And the body," said the Provost, " how shall 
 we dispose of it ? " 
 
 1 Varillaa, in. a history of Louis XL, observes, that his Provost- 
 Marshal was often so precipitate in execution as to slay another 
 person instead of him whom the King had indicated. This always 
 occasioned a double execution, for the wrath or revenge of Louis 
 was never satisfied with a vicarious punishment. 
 
202 QUENTIN DURWAE.D. 
 
 " Let me see an instant," said the King " the 
 windows of the hall are too narrow ; but that pro- 
 jecting oriel is wide enough. We will over with 
 him into the Somme, and put a paper on 'his breast, 
 with the legend, ' Let the justice of the King pass 
 toll-free.' The Duke's officers may seize it for 
 duties if they dare." 
 
 The Provost-Marshal left the apartment of Louis, 
 and summoned his two assistants to council in an 
 embrasure in the great hall, where Trois-Eschelles 
 stuck a torch against the wall to give them light. 
 They discoursed in whispers, little noticed by Oliver 
 le Dain, who seemed sunk in dejection, and Le 
 Balafre\ who was fast asleep. 
 
 " Comrades," said the Provost to his executioners, 
 " perhaps you have thought that our vocation was 
 over, or that, at least, we were more likely to be 
 the subjects of the duty of others, than to have any 
 more to discharge on our own parts. But courage, 
 my mates ! our gracious master has reserved for us 
 one noble cast of our office, and it must be gal- 
 lantly executed, as by men who would live in 
 history." 
 
 "Ay, I guess how it is," said Trois-Eschelles; 
 " our patron is like the old Kaisars of Eome, who, 
 when things came to an extremity,' or, as we would 
 say, to the ladder foot with them, were wont to se- 
 lect from their own ministers of justice some ex- 
 perienced person, who might ' spare their sacred 
 persons from the awkward attempts of a novice or 
 blunderer in our mystery. It was a pretty custom 
 for Ethnics ; but, as a good catholic, I should make 
 some scruple at laying hands on the Most Christian 
 King." 
 
 " Nay, but, brother, you are ever too scrupulous,' 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 203 
 
 said Petit- Andre*. " If he issues word and warrant 
 for his own execution, I see not how we can in duty- 
 dispute it. He that dwells at Kome must obey the 
 Pope the Marshal's-men must do their master's 
 bidding, and he the King's." 
 
 " Hush, you knaves ! " said the Provost-Marshal, 
 "there is here no purpose concerning the King's 
 person, but only that of the Greek heretic pagan 
 and Mahomedan wizard, Martius Galeotti." 
 
 "Galeotti!" answered Petit- Andre*; "that comes 
 quite natural. I never knew one of these legerde- 
 main fellows, who pass their life, as one may say, 
 in dancing upon a tight rope, but what they came 
 at length to caper at the end of one tchick ! " 
 
 " My only concern is," said Trois-Eschelles, look- 
 ing upwards, " that the poor creature must die 
 without confession." 
 
 " Tush ! tush ! " said the Provost-Marshal, in 
 reply, " he is a rank heretic and necromancer 
 a whole college of priests could not absolve him 
 from the doom he has deserved. Besides, if he 
 hath a fancy that way, thou hast a gift, Trois- 
 Eschelles, to serve him for ghostly father thyself. 
 But, what is more material, T fear you must use 
 your poniards, my mates ; for you have not here 
 the fitting conveniences for the exercise of your 
 profession." 
 
 "Now, our Lady of the Isle of Paris forbid," 
 said Trois-Eschelles, "that the King's command 
 should find me destitute of my tools ! I always 
 wear around my body Saint Francis's cord, doubled 
 four times, with a handsome loop at the further 
 end of it ; for I am of the company of Saint Francis, 
 and may wear his cowl when I am in extremis -^ 
 I thank God and the good fathers of Saumur." 
 
204 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 "And for me," said Petit- Andrei "I have always 
 in my budget a handy block and sheaf, or a pulley 
 as they call it, with a strong screw for securing it 
 where I list, in case we should travel where trees 
 are scarce, or high-branched from the ground. I 
 have found it a great convenience." 
 
 " That will suit as well," said the Provost-Mar- 
 shal ; " you have but to screw your pulley into 
 yonder beam above the door, and pass the rope 
 over it. I will keep the fellow in some conversa- 
 tion near the spot until you adjust the noose under 
 his chin, and then " 
 
 " And then we run up the rope," said Petit- 
 Andre*, " and, tchick ! our Astrologer is so far in 
 Heaven, that he hath not a foot on earth." 
 
 " But these gentlemen," said Trois-Eschelles, look- 
 ing towards the chimney, " do not these help, and 
 so take a handsel of our vocation ? " 
 
 " Hem ! no," answered the Provost ; " the bar- 
 ber only contrives mischief, which he leaves other 
 men to execute ; and for the Scot, he keeps the 
 door when the deed is a-doing, which he hath not 
 spirit or quickness sufficient to partake in more 
 actively every one to his trade." 
 
 With infinite dexterity, and even a sort of profes- 
 sional delight which sweetened the sense of their 
 own precarious situation, the worthy executioners 
 of the Provost's mandates adapted their rope and 
 pulley for putting in force the sentence which had 
 been uttered against Galeotti by the captive Mon- 
 arch seeming to rejoice that that last action was 
 to be one so consistent with their past life. Tris- 
 tan l'Hermite sat eyeing their proceedings with 
 a species of satisfaction ; while Oliver paid no at- 
 tention to them whatever; and Ludovic Lesly, if, 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 205 
 
 awaked by the bustle, he looked upon them at all, 
 considered them as engaged in matters entirely 
 unconnected with his own duty, and for which he 
 was not to be regarded as responsible in one way 
 or other. l 
 
 1 The author has endeavoured to give to the odious Tristan 
 l'Hermite a species of dogged and brutal fidelity to Louis, similar 
 to the attachment of a bull-dog to his master. With all the 
 atrocity of his execrable character, he was certainly a man of 
 courage, and was, in his youth, made knight on the breach of 
 Fronsac, with a great number of other young nobles, by the hon- 
 our-giving hand of the elder Dunois, the celebrated hero of 
 Charles the Vth's reign. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 KECRIMINATION. 
 
 Thy time is not yet out the devil thou servest 
 Has not as yet deserted thee. He aids 
 The friends who drudge for him, as the blind man 
 Was aided by the guide, who lent his shoulder 
 O'er rough and smooth, until he reach'd the brink 
 Of the fell precipice then hurl'd him downward. 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 When obeying the command, or rather the request, 
 of Louis, for he was in circumstances in which, 
 though a monarch, he could only request Le Glo- 
 rieux to go in search of Martius Galeotti, the 
 jester had no trouble in executing his commission, 
 betaking himself at once to the best tavern in Pe- 
 ronne, of which he himself was rather more than 
 an occasional frequenter, being a great admirer of 
 that species of liquor which reduced all other men's 
 brains to a level with his own. 
 
 He found, or rather observed, the Astrologer in 
 the corner of the public drinking-room stove, as 
 it is called in German and Flemish, from its prin- 
 cipal furniture sitting in close colloquy with a 
 female in a singular, and something like a Moorish 
 or Asiatic garb, who, as Le Glorieux approached 
 Martius, rose as in the act to depart. 
 
 " These," said the stranger, " are news on which 
 you may rely with absolute certainty;" and with 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 207 
 
 that disappeared among the crowd of guests who 
 sat grouped at different tables in the apartment. 
 
 " Cousin Philosopher,'* said the jester, presenting 
 himself, "Heaven no sooner relieves one sentinel 
 than it sends another to supply the place. One 
 fool being gone, here I come another, to guide you 
 to the apartments of Louis of France." 
 
 "And art thou the messenger?" said Martius. 
 gazing on him with prompt apprehension, and dis- 
 covering at once the jester's quality, though less 
 intimated, as we have before noticed, than was 
 usual, by his external appearance. 
 
 "Ay, sir, and like your learning," answered Le 
 Glorieux ; " when Power sends Folly to entreat the 
 approach of Wisdom, 'tis a sure sign what foot the 
 patient halts upon." 
 
 " How if I refuse to come, when summoned at so 
 late an hour by such a messenger ? " said Galeotti. 
 
 " In that case we will consult your ease, and carry 
 you," said Le Glorieux. " Here are half a score of 
 stout Burgundian yeomen at th^door, with whom He 
 of Crevecceur has furnished me to that effect. For 
 know, that my friend Charles of Burgundy and I 
 have not taken away our kinsman Louis's crown, 
 which he was ass enough to put into our power, but 
 have only filed and dipt it a little ; and, though re- 
 duced to the size of a spangle, it is still pure gold. 
 In plain terms, he is still paramount over his own 
 people, yourself included, and Most Christian King 
 of the old dining-hall in the Castle of Peronne, to 
 which you, as his liege subject, are presently obliged 
 to repair." 
 
 "I attend you, sir," said Martius Galeotti, and 
 accompanied Le Glorieux accordingly seeing, per- 
 haps, that no evasion was possible. 
 
208 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 " Ay, sir," said the Fool, as they went towards the 
 Castle, " you do well ; for we treat our kinsman as 
 men use an old famished lion in his cage, and thrust 
 him now and then a calf to mumble, to keep his old 
 jaws in exercise." 
 
 "Do you mean," said Martius, "that the King 
 intends me bodily injury ? " 
 
 " Nay, that you can guess better than I," said the 
 jester ; " for, though the night be cloudy, I warrant 
 you can see the stars through the mist. I know 
 nothing of the matter, not I only my mother al- 
 ways told me to go warily near an old rat in a trap, 
 for he was never so much disposed to bite." 
 
 The Astrologer asked no more questions, and Le 
 Glorieux, according to the custom of those of his 
 class, continued to run on in a wild and disordered 
 strain of sarcasm and folly mingled together, until 
 he delivered the philosopher to the guard at the 
 castle-gate of Peronne ; where he was passed from 
 warder to warder, and at length admitted within 
 Herbert's Tower. 
 
 The hints of the jester had not been lost on 
 Martius Galeotti, and he saw something which 
 seemed to confirm them in the look and manner 
 of Tristan, whose mode of addressing him, as he 
 marshalled him to the King's bedchamber, was 
 lowering, sullen, and ominous. A close observer 
 of what passed on earth, as well as among the 
 heavenly bodies, the pulley and the rope also 
 caught the Astrologer's eye ; and as the latter 
 was in a state of vibration, he concluded that 
 some one who had been busy adjusting it had 
 been interrupted in the work by his sudden arrival. 
 All this he saw, and summoned together his sub- 
 tilty to evade the impending danger, resolved, 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 209 
 
 should he find that impossible, to defend himself 
 to the last against whomsoever should assail him. 
 
 Thus resolved, and with a step and look corre- 
 sponding to the determination he had taken, Mar- 
 tius presented himself before Louis, alike unabashed 
 at the miscarriage of his predictions, and undis- 
 mayed at the Monarch's anger, and its probable 
 consequences. 
 
 " Every good planet be gracious to your Majesty ! " 
 said Galeotti, with an inclination almost Oriental in 
 manner "Every evil constellation withhold their 
 influences from my royal master!" 
 
 "Methinks," replied the King, "that when you 
 look around this apartment, when you think where 
 it is situated, and how guarded, your wisdom might 
 consider that my propitious stars had proved faith- 
 less, and that each evil conjunction had already done 
 its worst. Art thou not ashamed, Martius Galeotti, 
 to see me here, and a prisoner, when you recollect 
 by what assurances I was lured hither ? " 
 
 " And art thou not ashamed, my royal Sire ? " re- 
 plied the philosopher ; " thou, whose step in science 
 was so forward, thy apprehension so quick, thy per- 
 severance so unceasing, art thou not ashamed to 
 turn from the first frown of fortune, like a craven 
 from the first clash of arms ? Didst thou propose to 
 become participant of those mysteries which raise 
 men above the passions, the mischances, the pains, 
 the sorrows of life, a state only to be attained by rival- 
 ling the firmness of the ancient Stoic, and dost thou 
 shrink from the first pressure of adversity, and for- 
 feit the glorious prize for which thou didst start as 
 a competitor, frightened out of the course, like a 
 scared racer, by shadowy and unreal evils ? " 
 
 "Shadowy and unreal! frontless as thou art!" 
 
 VOL. II. 14 
 
2To QTJENTIN DURWABD. 
 
 exclaimed the King, "is this dungeon unreal? . 
 the weapons of the guards of my detested enemy 
 Burgundy, which you may hear clash at the gate, 
 are those shadows ? What, traitor, are real evils, 
 if imprisonment, dethronement, and danger of life, 
 are not so ? " 
 
 " Ignorance ignorance, my brother, and preju- 
 dice," answered the sage, with great firmness, " are 
 the only real evils. Believe me, that Kings in the 
 "plenitude of power, if immersed in ignorance and 
 prejudice, are less free than sages in a dungeon, and 
 leaded with material chains. Towards this true hap- 
 piness it is mine to guide you be it yours to attend 
 to my instructions." 
 
 , " And it is to such philosophical freedom that your 
 lessons would have guided me ? " said the King, very 
 bitterly. " I would you had told me at Plessis, that 
 the dominion promised me so liberally was an em- 
 pire over my own passions ; that the success of which 
 I was assured, related to my progress in philosophy ; 
 and that I might become as wise and as learned as 
 a strolling mountebank of Italy ! I might surely 
 have attained this mental ascendency at a more 
 moderate price than that of forfeiting the fairest 
 crown in Christendom, and becoming tenant of a 
 dungeon in Peronne ! Go, sir, and think not to 
 escape condign punishment There is a Heaven 
 above us ! " 
 
 " I leave you not to your fate," replied Martius, 
 " until I have vindicated, even in your eyes, dark* 
 ened as they are, that reputation, a brighter gem 
 than the brightest in thy crown, and at which the 
 world shall wonder, ages after all the race of Capet 
 are mouldered into oblivion in the charnels of Saint 
 Denis." 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 211 
 
 " Speak on," said Louis ; " thine impudence can- 
 not make me change my purposes or my opinion 
 Yet as I may never again pass judgment as a King, 
 I will not censure thee unheard. Speak, then 
 though the best thou canst say will be to speak the 
 truth. Confess that I am a dupe, thou an impostor, 
 thy pretended science a dream, and the planets 
 which shine above us as little influential of our des- 
 tiny, as their shadows, when reflected in the river, 
 are capable of altering its course." 
 
 " And how know'st thou," answered the Astro- 
 loger, boldly, " the secret influence of yonder blessed 
 lights ? Speak'st thou of their inability to influence 
 waters, when yet thou know'st that even the weak- 
 est, the moon herself, weakest because nearest to 
 this wretched earth of ours, holds under her do- 
 mination, not such poor streams as the Somme, but 
 the tides of the mighty ocean itself, which ebb and 
 increase as her disk waxes and wanes, and watch 
 her influence as a slave waits the nod of a Sultana ? 
 And now, Louis of Valois, answer my parable in 
 turn Confess, art thou not like the foolish pas- 
 senger, who becomes wroth with his pilot because he 
 cannot bring the vessel into harbour without expe- 
 riencing occasionally the adverse force of winds and 
 currents ? I could indeed point to thee the pro- 
 bable issue of thine enterprise as prosperous, but it 
 was in the power of Heaven alone to conduct thee 
 thither ; and if the path be rough and dangerous, 
 was it in my power to smooth or render it more 
 safe ? Where is thy wisdom of yesterday, which 
 taught thee so truly to discern that the ways of 
 destiny are often ruled to our advantage, though in 
 opposition to our wishes ? " 
 
 "You remind me you remind me," said the 
 
212 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 King, hastily, "of one specific falsehood. You 
 foretold, yonder Scot should accomplish his enter- 
 prise fortunately for my interest and honour ; and 
 thou knowest it has so terminated, that no more 
 mortal injury could I have received, than from the 
 impression which the issue of that affair is like to 
 make on the excited brain of the Mad Bull of Bur- 
 gundy. This is a direct falsehood Thou canst 
 plead no evasion here canst refer to no remote 
 favourable turn of the tide, for which, like an idiot 
 sitting on the bank until the river shall pass away, 
 thou wouldst have me wait contentedly. Here 
 thy craft deceived thee Thou wert weak enough 
 to make a specific prediction, which has proved 
 directly false." 
 
 " Which will prove most firm and true," answered 
 the Astrologer,, boldly. " I would desire no greater 
 triumph of art over ignorance, than that prediction 
 and its accomplishment will afford. I told thee 
 he would be faithful in any honourable commission 
 Hath he not been so ? I told thee he would be 
 scrupulous in aiding any evil enterprise Hath he 
 not proved so ? If you doubt it, go ask the Bohe- 
 mian, Hayraddin Maugrabin." 
 
 The King here coloured deeply with shame and 
 anger. 
 
 " I told thee," continued the Astrologer, " that 
 the conjunction of planets under which he set forth, 
 augured danger to the person and hath not his 
 path been beset by danger ? I told thee that it 
 augured an advantage to the sender and of that 
 thou wilt soon have the benefit." 
 
 "Soon have the benefit!" exclaimed the King; 
 " Have I not the result already, in disgrace and 
 imprisonment ? " 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 213 
 
 " No," answered the Astrologer, " the End is 
 not as yet thine ow.n tongue shall ere long con- 
 fess the benefit which thou hast received, from the 
 manner in which the messenger bore himself in 
 discharging thy commission." 
 
 " This is too too insolent," said the King, " at 
 once to deceive and to insult But hence ! think 
 not my wrongs shall be unavenged. There is 
 a Heaven above us ! " 
 
 Galeotti turned to depart. " Yet stop," said 
 Louis, " thou bearest thine imposture bravely out 
 Let me hear your answer to one question, and 
 think ere you speak. Can thy pretended skill 
 ascertain the hour of thine own death ? " 
 
 " Only by referring to the fate of another," said 
 Galeotti. 
 
 " I understand not thine answer," said Louis. 
 
 " Know then, O King," said Martius, " that this 
 only I can tell with certainty concerning mine own 
 death, that it shall take place exactly twenty-four 
 hours before that of your Majesty." l 
 
 " Ha ! say'st thou ? " said Louis, his countenance 
 again altering. " Hold hold go not wait one 
 moment. Saidst thou, my death should follow 
 thine so closely ? " 
 
 " Within the space of twenty-four hours," re- 
 peated Galeotti. firmly, " if there be one sparkle 
 of true divination in those bright and mysterious 
 intelligences, which speak, each on their courses, 
 though without a tongue. I wish your Majesty 
 good rest." 
 
 "Hold hold go not," said the King, taking 
 him by the arm, and leading him from the door. 
 " Martius Galeotti, I have been a kind master to 
 1 Note VII. Martius Galeotti. 
 
214 QUENTIN DURWAED. 
 
 thee enriched thee made thee my friend my 
 companion the instructor of my studies. Be open 
 with me, I entreat you. Is there aught in this art 
 of yours in very deed ? Shall this Scot's mission 
 be, in fact, propitious to me ? And is the measure 
 of our lives so very very nearly matched ? Con- 
 fess, my good Martius, you speak after the trick 
 of your trade Confess, I pray you, and you shall 
 have no displeasure at my hand. I am in years 
 a prisoner likely to be deprived of a kingdom 
 to one in my condition truth is worth kingdoms, 
 and it is from thee, dearest Martius, that I must 
 look for this inestimable jewel." 
 
 " And I have laid it before your Majesty," said 
 Galeotti, " at the risk that, in brutal passion, you 
 might turn upon me and rend me." 
 
 " Who, I, Galeotti ? " replied Louis mildly ; 
 " Alas ! thou mistakest me ! Am I not captive, 
 and should not I be patient, especially since my 
 anger can only show my impotence ? Tell me then 
 in sincerity Have you fooled me ? Or is your 
 science true, and do you truly report it ? " 
 
 "Your Majesty will forgive me if I reply to 
 you," said Martius Galeotti, f that time only 
 time and the event, will convince incredulity. It 
 suits ill the place of confidence which I have held 
 at the council-table of the renowned conqueror, 
 Matthias Corvinus of Hungary nay, in. the cabi- 
 net of the Emperor himself to reiterate assurances 
 of that which I have advanced as true. If you will 
 not believe me, I can but refer to the course of 
 events. A day, or two days' patience, will prove 
 or disprove what I have averred concerning the 
 young Scot ; and I will be contented to die on the 
 wheel, and have my limbs broken joint by joint, 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 215 
 
 if your Majesty have not advantage, and that in a 
 most important degree, from the dauntless conduct 
 of that Quentin Durward. But if I were to die 
 under such tortures, it would be well your Majesty 
 should seek a ghostly father ; for, from the moment 
 my last groan is drawn, only twenty-four hours 
 will remain to you for confession and penitence." 
 
 Louis continued to keep hold of Galeotti's robe 
 as he led him towards the door, and pronounced as 
 lie opened it, in a loud voice, " To-morrow we'll talk 
 more of this. Go in peace, my learned father 
 Go in peace Go in peace ! " 
 
 He repeated these words three times ; and, still 
 afraid that the Provost-Marshal might mistake his 
 purpose, he led the Astrologer into the hall, hold- 
 ing fast his robe, as if afraid that he should be torn 
 from him, and put to death before his eyes. He did 
 not unloose his grasp until he had not only re- 
 peated again and again the gracious phrase, " Go in 
 peace," but even made a private signal to the Pro- 
 vost-Marshal, to enjoin a suspension of all proceed- 
 ings against the person of the Astrologer. 
 
 Thus did the possession of some secret informa- 
 tion, joined to audacious courage and readiness of 
 wit, save Galeotti from the most imminent danger ; 
 and thus was Louis, the most sagacious as well as 
 the most vindictive, amongst the monarchs of the 
 period, cheated of his revenge by the influence of 
 superstition upon a selfish temper, and a mind to 
 which, from the consciousness of many crimes, the 
 fear of death was peculiarly terrible. 
 
 He felt, however, considerable mortification at 
 being obliged to relinquish his purposed vengeance ; 
 and the disappointment seemed to be shared by his 
 satellites, to whom the execution was to have been 
 
2i6 QUENTIN BURWARD. 
 
 committed. Le Balafre* alone, perfectly indifferent 
 on the subject, so soon as the countermanding sig- 
 nal was given, left the door at which he had posted 
 himself, and in a few minutes was fast asleep. 
 
 The Provost-Marshal, as the group reclined them- 
 selves to repose in the hall after the King retired 
 to his bedchamber, continued to eye the goodly form 
 of the Astrologer, with the look of the mastiff watch- 
 ing a joint of meat which the cook had retrieved 
 from his jaws, while his attendants communicated 
 to each other in brief sentences their characteristic 
 sentiments. 
 
 " The poor blinded necromancer," whispered Trois- 
 Eschelles, with an air of spiritual unction and com- 
 miseration, to his comrade, Petit-Andre\ " hath lost 
 the fairest chance of expiating some of his vile sor- 
 ceries, by dying through means of the cord of the 
 blessed Saint Francis ! and T had purpose, indeed, 
 to leave the comfortable noose around his neck, to 
 scare the foul fiend from his unhappy carcass." 
 
 "And I," said Petit- Andre*, "have missed the 
 rarest opportunity of knowing how far a weight 
 of seventeen stone will stretch a three-plied cord ! 
 It would have been a glorious experiment in our 
 line, and the jolly old boy would have died so 
 easily ! " 
 
 While this whispered dialogue was going for- 
 ward, Martius, who had taken the opposite side of 
 the huge stone fire-place, round which the whole 
 group was assembled, regarded them askance, and 
 with a look of suspicion. He first put his hand into 
 his vest, and satisfied himself that the handle of a 
 very sharp double-edged poniard, which he always 
 carried about him, was disposed conveniently for 
 his grasp ; for, as we have already noticed, he was, 
 
QUENTIN DURWABD. 217 
 
 though now somewhat unwieldy, a powerful, ath- 
 letic man, and prompt and active at the use of his 
 weapon. Satisfied that this trusty instrument was 
 in readiness, he next took from his bosom a scroll 
 of parchment, inscribed with Greek characters, and 
 marked with cabalistic signs, drew together the 
 wood in the fire-place, and made a blaze by which 
 he could distinguish the features and attitude of all 
 who sat or lay around the heavy and deep slum- 
 bers of the Scottish soldier, who lay motionless, 
 with his rough countenance as immovable as if it 
 were cast in bronze the pale and anxious face of 
 Oliver, who at one time assumed the appearance 
 of slumber, and again opened his eyes and raised 
 his head hastily, as if stung by some internal throe, 
 or awakened by some distant sound the discon- 
 tented, savage, bull-dog aspect of the Provost, who 
 looked 
 
 " frustrate of his will, 
 
 Not half sufficed, and greedy yet to kill " 
 
 while the background was filled up by the ghastly 
 hypocritical countenance of Trois-Eschelles, whose 
 eyes were cast up towards Heaven, as if he was in- 
 ternally saying his devotions ; and the grim drollery 
 of Petit-Andre', who amused himself with mimick- 
 ing the gestures and wry faces of his comrade be- 
 fore he betook himself to sleep. 
 
 Amidst these vulgar and ignoble countenances, 
 nothing could show to greater advantage than the 
 stately form, handsome mien, and commanding fea- 
 tures of the Astrologer, who might have passed for 
 one of the ancient magi, imprisoned in a den of 
 robbers, and about to invoke a spirit to accomplish 
 his liberation. And, indeed, had he been distin- 
 
218 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 guished by nothing else than the beauty of the 
 graceful and flowing beard which descended over 
 the mysterious roll which he held in his hand, one 
 might have been pardoned for regretting that so 
 noble an appendage had been bestowed on one, who 
 put both talents, learning, and the advantages of 
 eloquence, and a majestic person, to the mean pur- 
 poses of a cheat and an impostor. 
 
 Thus passed the night in Count Herbert's Tower, 
 in the Castle of Peronne. When the first light of 
 dawn penetrated the ancient Gothic chamber, the 
 King summoned Oliver to his presence, who found 
 the Monarch sitting in his nightgown, and was 
 astonished at the alteration which one night of mor- 
 tal anxiety had made in his looks. He would have 
 expressed some anxiety on the subject, but the King 
 silenced him by entering into a statement of the 
 various modes by which he had previously endeav- 
 oured to form friends at the Court of Burgundy, 
 and which Oliver was charged to prosecute so soon 
 as he should be permitted to stir abroad. And 
 never was that wily minister more struck with the 
 clearness of the King's intellect, and his intimate 
 knowledge of all the springs which influence hu- 
 man actions, than he was during that memorable 
 consultation. 
 
 About two hours afterwards, Oliver accordingly 
 obtained permission from the Count of Crevecceur 
 to go out and execute the commissions which his 
 master had intrusted him with ; and Louis, sending 
 for the Astrologer, in whom he seemed to have 
 renewed his faith, held with him, in like manner, a 
 long consultation, the issue of which appeared to 
 give him more spirits and confidence than he had 
 at first exhibited ; so that he dressed himself, and 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 219 
 
 received the morning compliments of Crevecceur with 
 a calmness, at which the Burgundian Lord could 
 not help wondering, the rather that he had already 
 heard that the Duke had passed several hours in a 
 state of mind which seemed to render the King's 
 safety very precarious. 
 
CHAPTEK XIII. 
 
 UNCERTAINTY. 
 
 Our counsels waver like the unsteady bark, 
 That reels amid the strife of meeting currents. 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 If the night passed by Louis was carefully anxious 
 and agitated, that spent by the Duke of Burgundy, 
 who had at no time the same mastery over his pas- 
 sions, and, indeed, who permitted them almost a 
 free and uncontrolled dominion over his actions, 
 was still more disturbed. 
 
 According to the custom of the period, two of his 
 principal and most favoured counsellors, D'Hym- 
 bercourt and Des Comines. shared his bedchamber, 
 couches being prepared for them near the bed of the 
 prince. Their attendance was never more necessary 
 than upon this night, when, distracted by sorrow, 
 by passion, by the desire of revenge, and by the 
 sense of honour, which forbade him to exercise it 
 upon Louis in his present condition, the Duke's 
 mind resembled a volcano in eruption, which throws 
 forth all the different contents of the mountain, 
 mingled and molten into one burning mass. 
 
 He refused to throw off his clothes, or to make 
 any preparation for sleep ; but spent the night in 
 a succession of the most violent bursts of passion. 
 In some paroxysms he talked incessantly to his 
 attendants so thick and so rapidly, that they were 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 221 
 
 really afraid his senses would give way ; ' choosing 
 for his theme, the merits and the kindness of heart 
 of the murdered Bishop of Liege, and recalling all 
 the instances of mutual kindness, affection, and con- 
 fidence, which had passed between them, until he 
 had worked himself into such a transport of grief, 
 that he threw himself upon his face in the bed, and 
 seemed ready to choke with the sobs ancLtears which 
 he endeavoured to stifle. Then starting from the 
 couch, he gave vent at once to another and more 
 furious mood, and traversed the room hastily, utter- 
 ing incoherent threats, and still more incoherent 
 oaths of vengeance, while, stamping with his foot, 
 according to his customary action, he invoked Saint 
 George, Saint Andrew, and whomsoever else he 
 held most holy, to bear witness, that he would take 
 bloody vengeance on De la Marck, on the people 
 of Liege, and on him who was the author of the 
 whole. These last threats, uttered more obscurely 
 than the others, obviously concerned the person of 
 the King ; and at one time the Duke expressed his 
 determination to send for the Duke of Normandy, 
 the brother of the King, and with whom Louis was 
 on the worst terms, in order to compel the captive 
 monarch to surrender either the Crown itself, or 
 some of its most valuable rights and appanages. 
 
 Another day and night passed in the same stormy 
 and fitful deliberations, or rather rapid transitions 
 of passion ; for the Duke scarcely ate or drank, 
 never changed his dress, and, altogether, demeaned 
 himself like one in whom rage might terminate in 
 utter insanity. By degrees he became more com- 
 posed, and began to hold, from time to time, con- 
 sultations with his ministers, in which much was 
 proposed, but nothing resolved on. Comines assures 
 
222 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 us, that at one time a courier was mounted in readi- 
 ness to depart for the purpose of summoning the 
 Duke of Normandy; and in that event, the prison 
 of the French monarch would probably have been 
 found, as in similar cases, a brief road to his grave. 
 
 At other times, when Charles had exhausted his 
 fury, he sat with his features fixed in stern and rigid 
 immobility, Jike one who broods over some desper- 
 ate deed to which he is as yet unable to work up 
 his resolution. And unquestionably it would have 
 needed little more than an insidious hint from any 
 of the counsellors who attended his person, to have 
 pushed the Duke to some very desperate action. 
 But the nobles of Burgundy, from the sacred 
 character attached to the person of a King, and a 
 Lord Paramount, and from a regard to the public 
 faith, as well as that of their Duke, which had 
 been pledged when Louis threw himself into their 
 power, were almost unanimously inclined to recom- 
 mend moderate measures ; and the arguments 
 which D'Hymbercourt and Des Comines had now 
 and then ventured to insinuate during the night, 
 were, in the cooler hours of the next morning, 
 advanced and urged by Crevecceur and others. 
 Possibly their zeal in behalf of the King might 
 not be entirely disinterested. Many, as we have 
 mentioned, had already experienced the bounty of 
 the King ; others had either estates or pretensions 
 in France, which placed them* a little under his 
 influence; and it is certain that the treasure, 
 which had loaded four mules when the King 
 entered Peronne, became much lighter in the 
 course of these negotiations. 
 
 In the course of the third day, the Count of 
 Campo-basso brought his Italian wit to assist the 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 223 
 
 counsels of Charles ; and well was it for Louis, 
 that he had not arrived when the Duke was in 
 his first fury. Immediately on his arrival, a regu- 
 lar meeting of the Duke's counsellors was convened, 
 for considering the measures to be adopted in this 
 singular crisis. 
 
 On this occasion, Campo-basso gave his opinion, 
 couched in the apologue of the Traveller, the Adder, 
 and the Fox ; and reminded the Duke of the advice 
 which Eeynard gave to the man, that he should 
 crush his mortal enemy, now that chance had 
 placed his fate at his disposal. Des Comines, who 
 saw the Duke's eyes * sparkle at a proposal which 
 his own violence of temper had already repeatedly 
 suggested, hastened to state the possibility, that 
 Louis might not be, in fact, so directly accessary to 
 the sanguinary action which had been committed at 
 Schonwaldt ; that he might be able to clear himself 
 of the imputation laid to his charge, and perhaps to 
 make other atonement for the distractions which 
 his intrigues had occasioned in the Duke's domi- 
 nions, and those of his allies ; and that an act of 
 violence perpetrated on the King, was sure to bring 
 both on France and Burgundy a train of the most 
 unhappy consequences, among which not the least 
 to be feared was, that the English might avail them- 
 selves of the commotions and civil discord which 
 must needs ensue, to repossess themselves of Nor- 
 mandy and Guyenne, and renew those dreadful 
 wars, which had only, and with difficulty, been 
 terminated by the union of both France and Bur- 
 gundy against the common enemy. Finally, he 
 confessed, that he did not mean to urge the abso- 
 lute and free dismissal of Louis ; but only, that 
 the Duke should avail himself no farther of his 
 
224 QUENT1N DURWARD. 
 
 present condition, than merely to establish a fair 
 and equitable treaty between the countries, with 
 such security on the King's part, as should make 
 it difficult for him to break his faith, or disturb 
 the internal peace of Burgundy in future. D'Hym- 
 bercourt, Crevecceur, and others, signified their 
 reprobation of the violent measures proposed by 
 Campo-basso, and their opinion, that in the way 
 of treaty more permanent advantages could be 
 obtained, and in a manner more honourable for 
 Burgundy, than by an action which would stain 
 her with a breach of faith and hospitality. 
 
 The Duke listened to these arguments with his 
 looks fixed on the ground, and his brows so knitted 
 together as to bring his bushy eyebrows into one 
 mass. But when Crevecceur proceeded to say, 
 that he did not believe Louis either knew of, or 
 was accessary to, the atrocious act of violence 
 committed at Schonwaldt, Charles raised his head, 
 and darting a fierce look at his counsellor, ex- 
 claimed, " Have you too, Crevecceur, heard the gold 
 of France clink ? Methinks it rings in my coun- 
 cils as merrily as ever the bells of Saint Dennis 
 Dare any one say that Louis is not the fomenter of 
 these feuds in Flanders ? " 
 
 " My gracious lord," said Crevecceur, u my hand 
 has ever been more conversant with steel than 
 with gold ; and so far am I from holding that 
 Louis is free from the charge of having caused the 
 disturbances in Flanders, that it is not long since, 
 in the face of his whole Court, I charged him with 
 that breach of faith, and offered him defiance in 
 your name. But although his intrigues have been 
 doubtless the original cause of these commotions, 
 I am so far from believing that he authorized the 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 225 
 
 death of the Archbishop, that I believe one of his 
 emissaries publicly protested against it ; and I could 
 produce the man, were it your Grace's pleasure to 
 see him." 
 
 "It is our pleasure," said the Duke. "Saint 
 George ! can you doubt that we desire to act justly ? 
 Even in the highest flight of our passion, we 
 are known for an upright and a just judge. We 
 will see France ourself we will ourself charge 
 him with our wrongs, and ourself state to him the 
 reparation which we expect and demand. If he 
 shall be found guiltless of this murder, the atone- 
 ment for other crimes may be more easy If he 
 hath been guilty, who shall say that a life of peni- 
 tence in some retired monastery were not a most 
 deserved and a most merciful doom ? Who," he 
 added, kindling as he spoke, " who shall dare to 
 blame a revenge yet more direct and more speedy ? 
 Let your witness attend We will to the Castle 
 at the hour before noon. Some articles we will 
 minute down with which he shall comply, or woe 
 on his head ! others shall depend upon the proof. 
 Break up the council, and dismiss yourselves. I 
 will but change my dress, as this is scarce a fit- 
 ting trim in which to wait on my most gracious 
 Sovereign." 
 
 With a deep and bitter emphasis on th,e last 
 expression, the Duke arose, and strode out of the 
 room. 
 
 "Louis's safety, and, what is worse, the honour 
 of Burgundy, depend on a cast of the dice," said 
 D'Hymbercourt to Crevecceur and to Des Comines 
 " Haste thee to the Castle, Des Comines thou 
 hast a better filed tongue than either Crevecceur or 
 I. Explain to Louis what storm is approaching* 
 
 VOL. II. 15 
 
226 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 he will best know how to pilot himself. I trust 
 this life-guardsman will say nothing which can ag- 
 gravate ; for who knows what may have been the 
 secret commission with which he was charged ? " 
 
 " The young man," said Crevecoeur, " seems bold, 
 yet prudent and wary far beyond his years. In 
 all which he said to me he was tender of the King's 
 character, as of that of the Prince whom he serves. 
 I trust he will be equally so in the Duke's presence. 
 I must go seek him, and also the young Countess 
 of Croye." 
 
 " The Countess ! you told us you had left her 
 at Saint Bridget's Nunnery ? " 
 
 " Ay, but I was obliged," said the Count, " to 
 send for her express, by the Duke's orders; and 
 she has been brought hither on a litter, as being 
 unable to travel otherwise. She was in a state of 
 the deepest distress, both on account of the uncer- 
 tainty of the fate of her kinswoman, the Lady 
 Hameline, and the gloom which overhangs her own ; 
 guilty as she has been of a feudal delinquency, in 
 withdrawing herself from the protection of her 
 liege lord, Duke Charles, who is not the person in 
 the world most likely to view with indifference 
 what trenches on his seigniorial rights." 
 
 The information that the young Countess was in 
 the hands of Charles, added fresh and more pointed 
 thorns to Louis's reflections. He was conscious 
 that, by explaining the intrigues by which he had 
 induced the Lady Hameline and her to resort to 
 Pennine, she might supply that evidence which he 
 had removed by the execution of Zamet Maugrabin ; 
 and he knew well how much such proof of his 
 having interfered with the rights of the Duke of 
 Burgundy, would furnish both motive and pretext 
 
QUENTIN DURWAKD. 227 
 
 /or Charles's availing himself to the uttermost of 
 his present predicament. 
 
 Louis discoursed on these matters with great 
 anxiety to the Sieur Des Comines, whose acute and 
 political talents better suited the King's temper 
 than the blunt martial character of Crevecoeur, or 
 the feudal haughtiness of D'Hymbercourt. 
 
 "These iron-handed soldiers, my good friend 
 Comines," he, said to his future historian, " should 
 never enter a King's cabinet, but be left with the 
 halberds and partisans in the antechamber. Their 
 hands are indeed made for our use, but the mon- 
 arch who puts their heads to any better occupa- 
 tion than that of anvils for his enemies' swords 
 and maces, ranks with the fool who presented his 
 mistress with a dog-leash for a carcanet. It is 
 with such as thou, Philip, whose eyes are gifted 
 with the quick and keen sense that sees beyond 
 the exterior surface of affairs, that Princes should 
 share their council-table, their cabinet what do I 
 say ? the most secret recesses of their soul." 
 
 Des Comines, himself so keen a spirit, was natur- 
 ally gratified with the approbation of the most 
 sagacious Prince in Europe ; and he could not 
 so far disguise his internal satisfaction, but that 
 Louis was aware he had made some impression on 
 him. 
 
 " I would," continued he, " that I had such a 
 servant, or rather that I were worthy to have such 
 a one ! I had not then been in this unfortunate 
 situation ; which, nevertheless, I should hardly re- 
 gret, could I but discover any means of securing the 
 services of so experienced a statist." 
 
 Des Comines said, that all his faculties, such as 
 they were, were at the service of his Most Christian 
 
228 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 Majesty, saving always his allegiance to his right- 
 ful lord, Duke Charles of Burgundy. 
 
 * And am I one who would seduce you from that 
 allegiance ? " said Louis, pathetically. " Alas ! am 
 I not now endangered by having reposed too much 
 confidence in my vassal ? and can the cause of feu- 
 dal good faith be more sacred with any than with 
 me, whose safety depends on an appeal to it ? No, 
 Philip Des Comines continue to serve Charles of 
 Burgundy ; and you will best serve him, by bring- 
 ing round a fair accommodation with Louis of 
 France. In doing thus, you will serve us both, and 
 one, at least, will be grateful. I am told your ap- 
 pointments in this Court hardly match those of the 
 Grand Falconer ; and thus the services of the wisest 
 counsellor in Europe are put on a level, or rather 
 ranked below, those of a fellow who feeds and phy- 
 sics kites ! France has wide lands her King has 
 much gold. Allow me, my friend, to rectify this 
 scandalous inequality. The means are not distant 
 Permit me to use them." 
 
 The King produced a weighty bag of money ; but 
 Des Comines, more delicate in his sentiments than 
 most courtiers of that time, declined the proffer, de- 
 claring himself perfectly satisfied with the liberality 
 of his native Prince, and assuring Louis that his 
 desire to serve him could not be increased by the 
 acceptance of any such gratuity as he had proposed. 
 
 " Singular man ! " exclaimed the King ; " let me 
 embrace the only courtier of his time, at once 
 capable and incorruptible. Wisdom is to be desired 
 more than fine gold ; and believe me, I trust in thy 
 kindness, Philip, at this pinch, more than I do in 
 the purchased assistance of many who have received 
 my gifts. I know you will not counsel your master 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 229 
 
 to abuse such an opportunity, as fortune, and, to 
 speak plain, Des Comines, as my own folly, has 
 afforded him." 
 
 M To abuse it, by no means," answered the his- 
 torian ; " but most certainly to use it." 
 
 " How, and in. what degree ? " said Louis. " I 
 am not ass enough to expect that I shall escape 
 without some ransom but let it be a reasonable 
 one reason I am ever willing to listen to at Paris 
 or at Plessis, equally as at Peronne." 
 
 " Ah, but if it like your Majesty," replied Des 
 Comines, " Eeason at Paris or Plessis was used to 
 speak in so low and soft a tone of voice, that she 
 could not always gain an audience of your Majesty 
 at' Peronne, she borrows the speaking-trumpet 
 of Necessity, and her voice becomes lordly and 
 imperative." 
 
 "You are figurative," said Louis, unable to 
 restrain an emotion of peevishness ; "I am a dull, 
 blunt man, Sir of Comines. I pray you leave your 
 tropes, and come to plain ground. What does your 
 Duke expect of me ? " 
 
 " I am the bearer of no propositions, my lord," 
 said Des Comines ; " the Duke will soon explain 
 his own pleasure ; but some things occur bo me as 
 proposals, for which your Majesty ought to hold 
 yourself prepared. As, for example, the final ces- 
 sion of these towns here upon the Somme." 
 
 " I expected so much," said Louis. 
 
 " That you should disown the Liegeois, and 
 William de la Marck." 
 
 " As willingly as I disclaim Hell and Satan," said 
 Louis. 
 
 " Ample security will be required, by hostages, 
 or occupation of fortresses, or otherwise, that France 
 
230 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 shall in future abstain from stirring up rebellion 
 among the Flemings." 
 
 " It is something new," answered the King, " that 
 a vassal should demand pledges from his Sovereign : 
 but let that pass too." 
 
 " A suitable and independent appanage for your 
 illustrious brother, the ally and friend of my mas- 
 ter Normandy or Champagne. The Duke loves 
 your father's house, my Liege." 
 
 " So well," answered Louis, " that, mort Dieu ! 
 he's about to make them all kings. Is your bud- 
 get of hints yet emptied ? " 
 
 "Not entirely," answered the counsellor: "it 
 will certainly be required that your Majesty shall 
 forbear molesting, as you have done of late, the 
 Duke de Bretagne, and that you will no longer 
 contest the right, which he and other grand feuda- 
 tories have, to strike money, to term themselves 
 dukes and princes by the grace of God " 
 
 " In a word, to make so many kings of my vas- 
 sals. Sir Philip, would you make a fratricide of 
 me ? You remember well my brother Charles 
 he was no sooner Duke of Guyenne than he died. 
 And what will be left to the descendant and rep- 
 resentative of Charlemagne, after giving away 
 these rich provinces, save to be smeared with oil 
 at Rheims, and to eat his dinner under a high 
 canopy ? " 
 
 " We will diminish your Majesty's concern on 
 that score, by giving you a companion in that soli- 
 tary exaltation," said Philip des Comines. "The 
 Duke of Burgundy, though he claims not at pre- 
 sent the title of an independent king, desires never- 
 theless to be freed in future from the abject marks 
 of subjection required of him to the crown of 
 
QTJENTIN DURWARD. 231 
 
 France ; it is his purpose to close his ducal 
 coronet with an imperial arch, and surmount it 
 with a globe, in emblem that his dominions are 
 independent." 
 
 " And how dares the Duke of Burgundy, the 
 sworn vassal of France," exclaimed Louis, starting 
 up, and showing an unwonted degree of emotion 
 " how dares he propose such terms to his Sovereign, 
 as, by every law of Europe, should infer a forfei- 
 ture of his fief ? " 
 
 " The doom of forfeiture it would in this case be 
 difficult to enforce," answered Des Comines, calmly. 
 " Your Majesty is aware, that the strict inter- 
 pretation of the feudal law is becoming obsolete 
 even in the Empire, and that superior and vassal 
 endeavour to mend their situation in regard to each 
 other, as they have power and opportunity. Your 
 Majesty's interferences with the Duke's vassals in 
 Flanders will prove an exculpation of my master's 
 conduct, supposing him to insist that, by enlarging 
 his independence, France should in future be de- 
 barred from any pretext of doing so." 
 
 " Comines, Comines ! " said Louis, arising again, 
 and pacing the room in a pensive manner, " this is 
 a dreadful lesson on the text Vce victis ! You can- 
 not mean that the Duke will insist on all these hard 
 conditions ? " 
 
 " At least I would have your Majesty be in a 
 condition to discuss them all." 
 
 "Yet moderation, Des Comines, moderation in 
 success, is no one knows better than you neces- 
 sary to its ultimate advantage." 
 
 " So please your Majesty, the merit of modera- 
 tion is, I have observed, most apt to be extolled by 
 the losing party. The winner holds in more esteem 
 
232 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 the prudence which calls on him not to leave an 
 opportunity unimproved." 
 
 " Well, we will consider " replied the King ; 
 " but at least thou hast reached the extremity of 
 your Duke's unreasonable exaction ? there can re- 
 main nothing or if there does, for so thy brow 
 intimates what is it what indeed can it be 
 unless it be my crown ? which these previous de- 
 mands, if granted, will deprive of all its lustre ! " 
 
 " My lord," said Des Comines, " what remains to 
 be mentioned, is a thing partly indeed in a great 
 measure within the Duke's own power, though he 
 means to invite your Majesty's accession to it, for 
 in truth it touches you nearly." 
 
 " Pasques-dieu ! " exclaimed the King impatiently, 
 " what is it ? Speak out, Sir Philip am I to 
 send him my daughter for a concubine, or what 
 other dishonour is he to put on me ? " 
 
 "No dishonour, my liege ; but your Majesty's 
 cousin, the illustrious Duke of Orleans " 
 
 " Ha ! " exclaimed the King ; but Des Comines 
 proceeded without heeding the interruption. 
 
 " Having conferred his affections on the young 
 Countess Isabelle de Croye, the Duke expects your 
 Majesty will, on your part, as he on his, yield your 
 assent to the marriage, and unite with him in en- 
 dowing the right noble couple with such an appan- 
 age, as, joined to the Countess's estates, may form 
 a fit establishment for a child of France." 
 
 " Never, never ! " said the King, bursting out into 
 that emotion which he had of late suppressed with 
 much difficulty, and striding about in a disordered 
 haste, which formed the strongest contrast to the 
 self-command which he usually exhibited, " Never, 
 never ! let them bring scissors, and shear my hair 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 233 
 
 like that of the parish-fool, whom I have so richly 
 resembled ! let them bid the monastery or the grave 
 yawn for me let them bring redhot basins to 
 sear my eyes axe or aconite whatever they 
 will but Orleans shall not break his plighted 
 faith to my daughter, or marry another while she 
 lives ! " 
 
 " Your Majesty," said Des Comines, " ere you 
 set your mind so keenly against what is proposed, 
 will consider your own want of power to prevent 
 it. Every wise man, when he sees a rock giving 
 way, withdraws from the bootless attempt of pre- 
 venting the fall." 
 
 " But a brave man," said Louis, " will at least 
 find his grave beneath it. Des Comines, consider 
 the great loss the utter destruction, such a mar- 
 riage will bring upon my kingdom. Recollect, I 
 have but one feeble boy, and this Orleans is the 
 next heir consider that the church hath consented 
 to his union with Joan, which unites so happily the 
 interests of both branches of my family, think on 
 all this, and think too that this union has been the 
 favourite scheme of my whole life that I have 
 schemed for it, fought for it, watched for it, prayed 
 for it, and sinned for it. Philip des Comines, 
 I will not forego it ! Think, man, think ! pity me 
 in this extremity thy quick brain can speedily 
 find some substitute for this sacrifice some ram 
 to be offered up instead of that project which is dear 
 to me as the Patriarch's only son was to him 
 Philip, pity me ! you, at least, should know, that 
 to men of judgment and foresight, the destruction of 
 the scheme on which they have long dwelt, and for 
 which they have long toiled, is more inexpressibly 
 bitter than the transient grief of ordinary men 
 
234 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 whose pursuits are but the gratification of some 
 temporary passion you, who know how to sym- 
 pathize with the deeper, the more genuine distress 
 of baffled prudence and disappointed sagacity, 
 will you not feel for me ? " 
 
 " My Lord and King ! " replied Des Comines, 
 " I do sympathize with your distress, in so far as 
 duty to my master " 
 
 " Do not mention him ! " said Louis, acting, or 
 at least appearing to act, under an irresistible and 
 headlong impulse, which withdrew the usual guard 
 which he maintained over his language " Charles 
 of Burgundy is unworthy of your attachment. 
 He who can insult and strike his counsellors 
 he who can distinguish the wisest and most faith- 
 ful among them, by the opprobrious name of 
 Booted-Head ! " 
 
 The wisdom of Philip des Comines did not pre- 
 vent his having a high sense of personal conse- 
 quence ; and he was so much struck with the words 
 which the King uttered, as it were, in the career of 
 a passion which overleaped ceremony, that he could 
 only reply by repetition of the words " Booted-Head ! 
 It is impossible that my master the Duke could 
 have so termed the servant who has been at his side 
 since he could mount a palfrey and that too be- 
 fore a foreign monarch ? it is impossible ! " 
 
 Louis instantly saw the impression he had made, 
 and avoiding alike a tone of condolence, which might 
 have seemed insulting, and one of sympathy, which 
 might have savoured of affectation, he said, with 
 simplicity, and at the same time with dignity, "My 
 misfortunes make me forget my courtesy, else I had 
 not spoken to you of what it must be unpleasant 
 for you to hear. But you have in reply taxed me 
 
QUENTIN DURWAKD. 235 
 
 with having uttered impossibilities this touches 
 my honour ; yet T must submit to the charge, if I 
 tell you not the circumstances which the Duke, 
 laughing until his eyes ran over, assigned for the 
 origin of that opprobrious name, which I will not 
 offend your ears by repeating. Thus, then, it 
 chanced. You, Sir Philip Des Comines, were at 
 a hunting-match with the Duke of Burgundy, your 
 master ; and when he alighted after the chase, he 
 required your services in drawing off his boots. 
 Beading in your looks, perhaps, some natural re- 
 sentment of this disparaging treatment, he ordered 
 you to sit down in turn, and rendered you the same 
 office he had just received from you. But offended 
 at your understanding him literally, he no sooner 
 plucked one of your boots off, than he brutally beat 
 it about your head till the blood flowed, exclaiming 
 against the insolence of a subject, who had the pre- 
 sumption to accept of such a service at the hand of 
 his Sovereign ; and hence he, or his privileged fool 
 Le Glorieux, is in the current habit of distinguish- 
 ing you by the absurd and ridiculous name of Tete- 
 botte, which makes one of the Duke's most ordinary 
 subjects of pleasantry." 1 
 
 While Louis thus spoke, he had the double plea- 
 sure of galling to the quick the person whom he ad- 
 dressed an exercise which it was in his nature to 
 enjoy, even where he had not, as in the present case, 
 
 1 The story is told more bluntly, and less probably, in the 
 French memoirs of the period, which affirm that Comines, out 
 of a presumption inconsistent with his excellent good sense, had 
 asked of Charles of Burgundy to draw off his boots, without 
 having been treated with any previous familiarity to lead to 
 such a freedom. I have endeavoured to give the anecdote a 
 turn more consistent with the sense and prudeuce of the great 
 author concerned. 
 
230 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 the apology, that he did so in pure retaliation, and 
 that of observing that he had at length been able to 
 find a point in Des Comines' character which might 
 lead him gradually from the interests of Burgundy 
 to those of France. But although the deep resent- 
 ment which the offended courtier entertained against 
 his master induced him at a future period to ex- 
 change the service of Charles for that of Louis, yet, 
 at the present moment, he was contented to throw 
 out only some general hints of his friendly inclina- 
 tion towards France, which he well knew the King 
 would understand how to interpret. And indeed it 
 would be unjust to stigmatize the memory of the 
 excellent historian with the desertion of his master 
 on this occasion, although he was certainly now 
 possessed with sentiments much more favourable to 
 Louis than when he entered the apartment. 
 
 He constrained himself to laugh at the anecdote 
 which Louis had detailed, and then added, " I did 
 not think so trifling a frolic would have dwelt on 
 the mind of the Duke so long as to make it worth 
 telling again. Some such passage there was of 
 drawing off boots and the like, as your Majesty 
 knows that the Duke is fond of rude play ; but it 
 has been much exaggerated in his recollection. Let 
 it pass on." 
 
 " Ay, let it pass on," said the King ; " it is indeed 
 shame it should have detained us a minute. And 
 now, Sir Philip, I hope you are French so far as to 
 afford me your best counsel in these difficult affairs. 
 You have, I am well aware, the clew to the labyrinth, 
 if you would but impart it." 
 
 " Your Majesty may command my best advice and 
 service," replied Des Comines, " under reservation 
 always of my duty to my own master." 
 
QUENTIN DURWAKD. 237 
 
 This was nearly what the courtier had before 
 .stated ; but he now repeated it in a tone so differ- 
 ent, that whereas Louis understood from the former 
 declaration, that the reserved duty to Burgundy was 
 the prime thing to be considered, so he now saw 
 clearly that the emphasis was reversed, and that 
 more weight was now given by the speaker to his 
 promise of counsel, than to a restriction which 
 seemed interposed for the sake of form and con- 
 sistency. The King resumed his own seat, and 
 compelled Des Comines to sit by him, listening at 
 the same time to that statesman, as if the words of 
 an oracle sounded in his ears. Des Comines spoke 
 in that low and impressive tone, which implies at 
 once great sincerity and some caution, and at the 
 same time so slowly, as if he was desirous that the 
 King should weigh and consider each individual 
 word as having its own peculiar and determined 
 meaning. "The things," he said, "which I have 
 suggested for your Majesty's consideration, harsh 
 as they sound in your ear, are but substitutes for 
 still more violent proposals brought forward in the 
 Duke's councils, by such as are more hostile to your 
 Majesty. And I need scarce remind your Majesty, 
 that the more direct and more violent suggestions 
 find readiest acceptance with our master, who loves 
 brief and dangerous measures better than those that 
 are safe, but at the same time circuitous." 
 
 " I remember " said the King, " I have seen 
 nim swim a river at the risk of drowning, though 
 there was a bridge to be found for riding two hun- 
 dred yards round." 
 
 " True, Sire ; and he that weighs not his life 
 against the gratification of a moment of impetuous 
 passion, will, on the same impulse, prefer the grati- 
 
238 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 fication of his will to the increase of his substantial 
 power." 
 
 " Most true," replied the King ; " a fool will ever 
 grasp rather at the appearance than the reality of 
 authority. All this I know to be true of Charles 
 of Burgundy. But, ray dear friend Des Coraines, 
 what do you infer from these premises ? " 
 
 " Simply this, my lord," answered the Burgundian, 
 "that as your Majesty has seen a skilful angler con- 
 trol a large and heavy fish, and finally draw him to 
 land by a single hair, which fish had broke through 
 a tackle tenfold stronger, had the fisher presumed to 
 strain the line on him, instead of giving him head 
 enough for all his wild flourishes ; even so your 
 Majesty, by gratifying the Duke in these particulars 
 on which he has pitched his ideas of honour, and 
 the gratification of his revenge, may evade many of 
 the other unpalatable propositions at which I have 
 hinted; and which including, I must state openly 
 to your Majesty, some of those through which France 
 would be most especially weakened will slide out 
 of his remembrance and attention,.and, being referred 
 to subsequent conferences and future discussion, may 
 be altogether eluded." 
 
 "I understand you, my good Sir Philip; but to 
 the matter," said the King. "To which of those 
 happy propositions is your Duke so much wedded, 
 that contradiction will make him unreasonable and 
 un tractable ? " 
 
 "To any or to all of them, if it please your 
 Majesty, on which you may happen to contradict 
 him. This is precisely what your Majesty must 
 avoid ; and to take up my former parable, you must 
 needs remain on the watch, ready to give the Duke 
 line enough whenever he shoots away under the 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 239 
 
 impulse of his rage. His fury, already considerably 
 abated, will waste itself if he be unopposed, and you 
 will presently find him become more friendly and 
 more tractable." 
 
 H Still," said the King, musing, " there must be 
 some particular demands which lie deeper at my 
 cousin's heart than the other proposals. Were I 
 but aware of these, Sir Philip " 
 
 "Your Majesty may make the lightest of his 
 demands the most important, simply by opposing 
 it," said Des Comines ; " nevertheless, my lord, thus 
 far I can say, that every shadow of treaty will be 
 broken off, if your Majesty renounce not Wiiliam 
 de la Marck and the Liegeois." 
 
 "I have already said that I will disown them," 
 said the King, " and well they deserve it at my 
 hand ; the villains have commenced their uproar at 
 a moment that might have cost me my life." 
 
 "He that fires a train of powder," replied the 
 historian, "must expect a speedy explosion of the 
 mine. But more than mere disavowal of their 
 cause will be expected of your Majesty by Duke 
 Charles ; for know, that he will demand your Ma- 
 jesty's assistance to put the insurrection down, and 
 your royal presence to witness the punishment 
 which he destines for the rebels." 
 
 " That may scarce consist with our honour, Des 
 Comines," said the King. 
 
 " To refuse it will scarcely consist with your 
 Majesty's safety," replied Des Comines. "Charles 
 is determined to show the people of Flanders, that 
 no hope, nay no promise, of assistance from France, 
 will save them in their mutinies from the wrath and 
 vengeance of Burgundy." 
 
 " But, Sir Philip, I will speak plainly," answered 
 
240 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 the King " Could we but procrastinate the matter, 
 might not these rogues of Liege make their own 
 part good against Duke Charles ? The knaves 
 are numerous and steady Can they not hold out 
 their town against him ? " 
 
 " With the help of the thousand archers of France 
 whom your Majesty promised them, they might 
 have done something ; but " 
 
 "Whom I promised them!" said the King 
 " Alas ! good Sir Philip ! you much wrong me in 
 saying so." 
 
 " But without whom," continued Des Comines, 
 not heeding the interruption, " as your Majesty 
 will not now likely find it convenient to supply 
 them, what chance will the burghers have of 
 making good their town, in .whose walls the large 
 breaches made by Charles after the battle of St. 
 Tron are still unrepaired; so that the lances of 
 Hainault, Brabant, and Burgundy, may advance to 
 the attack twenty men in front ? " 
 
 "The improvident idiots!" said the King "If 
 they have thus neglected their own safety, they 
 deserve not my protection. Pass on I will make 
 no quarrel for their sake." 
 
 " The next point, I fear, will sit closer to your 
 Majesty's heart," said Des Comines. 
 
 " Ah ! " replied the King, " you mean that in- 
 fernal marriage ! I will not consent to the breach 
 of the contract betwixt my daughter Joan and my 
 cousin of Orleans it would be wresting the sceptre 
 of France from me and my posterity ; for that feeble 
 boy the Dauphin is a blighted blossom, which will 
 wither without fruit. This match between Joan 
 and Orleans has been my thought by day, my dream 
 by night I tell thee, Sir Philip, I cannot give it 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 241 
 
 up ! Besides, it is inhuman to require me, with 
 my own hand, to destroy at once my own scheme 
 of policy, and the happiness of a pair brought up for 
 each other." 
 
 " Are they then so much attached ? " said Des 
 Comines. 
 
 " One of them at least is," said the King, " and 
 the one for whom I am bound to be most anxious. 
 But you smile, Sir Philip, you are no believer in 
 the force of love." 
 
 "Nay," said Des Comines, "if it please you, 
 Sire, I am so little an infidel in that particular, that 
 I was about to ask whether it would reconcile you 
 in any degree to your acquiescing in the proposed 
 marriage betwixt the Duke of Orleans and Isabelle 
 de Croye, were I to satisfy you that the Countess's 
 inclinations are so much fixed on another, that it is 
 likely it will never be a match ? " 
 
 King Louis sighed. " Alas ! " he said, " my 
 good and dear friend, from what sepulchre have you 
 drawn such dead man's comfort ? Her inclination, 
 indeed! Why, to speak truth, supposing that 
 Orleans detested my daughter Joan, yet, but for 
 this ill-ravelled web of mischance, he must needs 
 have married her ; so you may conjecture how little 
 chance there is of this damsel being able to refuse 
 him under a similar compulsion, and he a Child of 
 France besides. Ah, no, Philip ! little fear of her 
 standing obstinate against the suit of such a lover. 
 Varium et mutahile, Philip." 
 
 " Your Majesty may, in the present instance, 
 undervalue the obstinate courage of this young 
 lady. She comes of a race determinately wilful; 
 and I have picked out of Crevecceur that she has 
 formed a romantic attachment to a young squire, 
 
 VOL. II. 16 
 
242 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 who, to say truth, rendered her many services on 
 the road." 
 
 " Ha ! " said the King, " an archer of my 
 Guards, by name Quentin Durward ? " 
 
 " The same, as I think," said Des Comines ; " he 
 was made prisoner along with the Countess, travel- 
 ling almost alone together." 
 
 " Now, our Lord and our Lady, and Monseig- 
 neur Saint Martin and Monseigneur Saint Julian, 
 be praised every one of them ! " said the King, 
 " and all laud and honour to the learned Galeotti, 
 who read in the stars that this youth's destiny was 
 connected with mine ! If the maiden be so attached 
 to him as to make her refractory to the will of Bur- 
 gundy, this Quentin hath indeed been rarely useful 
 to me." 
 
 " I believe, my lord," answered the Burgundian, 
 "according to Crevecceur's report, that there is 
 some chance of her being sufficiently obstinate ; 
 besides, doubtless, the noble Duke himself, not- 
 withstanding what your Majesty was pleased to 
 hint in way of supposition, will not willingly re- 
 nounce his fair cousin, to whom he has been long 
 engaged." 
 
 " Umph ! " answered the King " But you have 
 never seen my daughter Joan. A h owlet, man ! 
 an absolute owl, whom I am ashamed of ! But 
 let him be only a wise man, and marry her, I will 
 give him leave to be mad par amours for the fairest 
 lady in France. And now, Philip, have you given 
 me the full map of your master's mind ? " 
 
 " I have possessed you, Sire, of those particulars 
 on which he is at present most disposed to insist. 
 But your Majesty well knows that the Duke's dis- 
 position is like a sweeping torrent, which only 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 243 
 
 passes smoothly forward when its waves encounter 
 no opposition ; and what may be presented to chafe 
 him into fury, it is impossible even to guess. Were 
 more distinct evidence of your Majesty's practices 
 (pardon the phrase, where there is so little time for 
 selection) with the Liegeois and William de la 
 Marck to occur unexpectedly, the issue might be 
 terrible. There are strange news from that country 
 they say La Marck hath married Hameline the 
 elder Countess of Croye." 
 
 " That old fool was so mad on marriage, that she 
 would have accepted the hand of Satan," said the 
 King ; " but that La Marck, beast as he is, should 
 have married her, rather more surprises me." 
 
 " There is a report also," continued Des Com- 
 ines, " that an envoy, or herald, on La Marck's 
 part, is approaching Peronne ; this is like to drive 
 the Duke frantic with rage I trust that he has no 
 letters, or the like, to show on your Majesty's 
 part?" 
 
 " Letters to a Wild Boar ! " answered the King, 
 " No, no, Sir Philip, I was no such fool as to 
 cast pearls before swine What little intercourse 
 I had with the brute animal was by message, in 
 which I always employed such low-bred slaves and 
 vagabonds, that their evidence would not be re- 
 ceived in a trial for robbing a hen-roost." 
 
 " I can then only further recommend," said Des 
 Comines, taking his leave, " that your Majesty should 
 remain on your guard, be guided by events, and, 
 above all, avoid using any language or argument 
 with the Duke which may better become your dig- 
 nity than your present condition." 
 
 " If my dignity," said the King, " grow trouble- 
 some to me, which it seldom doth while there 
 
244 QUENTIN DURWaRD. 
 
 are deeper interests to think of, I have a special 
 remedy for that swelling of the heart It is but 
 looking into a certain ruinous closet, Sir Philip, and 
 thinking of the death of Charles the Simple ; and it 
 cures me as effectually as the cold bath would cool 
 a fever. And now, my friend and monitor, must 
 thou be gone ? Well, Sir Philip, the time must 
 come when thou wilt tire reading lessons of state 
 policy to the Bull of Burgundy, who is incapable 
 of comprehending your most simple argument If 
 Louis of Valois then lives, thou hast a friend in 
 the Court of France. I tell thee, my Philip, it 
 would be a blessing to my kingdom should I ever 
 acquire thee ; who, with a profound view of subjects 
 of state, hast also a conscience, capable of feeling 
 and discerning between right and wrong. So help 
 me, our Lord and Lady, and Monseigneur Saint 
 Martin, Oliver and Balue have hearts as hardened 
 as the nether millstone ; and my life is embittered 
 by remorse and penances for the crimes they make 
 me commit. Thou, Sir Philip, possessed of the 
 wisdom of present and past times, canst teach how 
 to become great without ceasing to be virtuous." 
 
 u A hard task, and which few have attained," 
 said the historian ; " but which is yet within the 
 reach of princes, who will strive for it. Meantime, 
 Sire, be prepared, for the Duke will presently con- 
 fer with you." 
 
 Louis looked long after Philip when he left the 
 apartment, and at length burst into a bitter laugh. 
 " He spoke of fishing I have sent him home, a 
 trout properly tickled ! And he thinks himself 
 virtuous because he took no bribe, but contented 
 himself with flattery and promises, and the pleasure 
 of avenging an affront to his vanity ! Why, he is 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 24.5 
 
 but so much the poorer for the refusal of the money 
 not a jot the more honest. He must be mine, 
 though, for he hath the shrewdest head among 
 them. Well, now for nobler game ! I am to face 
 this leviathan Charles, who will presently swim 
 hitherward, cleaving the deep before him. I must, 
 like a trembling sailor, throw a tub overboard to 
 amuse him. But I may one day find the chance 
 of driving a harpoon into his entrails ! " * 
 
 1 Note VIII 
 
CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 THE INTERVIEW. 
 
 Hold fast thy truth, young soldier. Gentle maiden, 
 
 Keep you your promise plight leave age its subtleties, 
 
 And grey-hair'd policy its maze of falsehood ; 
 
 But be you candid as the morning sky, 
 
 Ere the high sun sucks vapours up to stain it. 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 On the perilous and important morning which 
 preceded the meeting of the two Princes in the 
 Castle of Peronne, Oliver le Dain did his master 
 the service of an active and skilful agent, making 
 interest for Louis in every quarter, both with pre- 
 sents and promises ; so that when the Duke's anger 
 should blaze forth, all around should be interested 
 to smother, and not to increase, the conflagration. 
 He glided, like night, from tent to tent, from house 
 to house, making himself friends, but not, in the 
 Apostle's sense, with the Mammon of unrighteous- 
 ness. As was said of another active political agent, 
 " His finger was in every man's palm, his mouth 
 was in every man's ear ; " and for various reasons, 
 some of which we have formerly hinted at, he se- 
 cured the favour of many Burgundian nobles, who 
 either had something to hope or fear from France, 
 or who thought that, were the power of Louis too 
 much reduced, their own Duke would be likely to 
 pursue the road to despotic authority, to which his 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 247 
 
 heart naturally inclined him, with a daring and 
 unopposed pace. 
 
 Where Oliver suspected his own presence or 
 arguments might be less acceptable, he employed 
 that of other servants of the King ; and it was in 
 this manner that he obtained, by the favour of the 
 Count de Crevecceur, an interview betwixt Lord 
 Crawford, accompanied by Le Balafre\ and Quentin 
 Durward, who, since he had arrived at Peronne, 
 had been detained in a sort of honourable confine- 
 ment. Private affairs were assigned as the cause 
 of requesting this meeting ; but it is probable that 
 Crevecceur, who was afraid that his master might 
 be stirred up in passion to do something dishonour- 
 ably violent towards Louis, was not sorry to afford 
 an opportunity to Crawford to give some hints to 
 the young archer, which might prove useful to his 
 master. 
 
 The meeting between the countrymen was cor- 
 dial, and even affecting. 
 
 " Thou art a singular youth," said Crawford, 
 stroking the head of young Durward, as a grand- 
 sire might do that of his descendant ; " Certes, you 
 have had as meikle good fortune as if you had been 
 born with a lucky hood on your head." 
 
 " All comes of his gaining an archer's place at 
 such early years," said Le Balafre' ; " I never was 
 so much talked of, fair nephew, because I was five- 
 and-twenty years old before I was Jwrs de page" 
 
 "And an ill-looking mountainous monster of a 
 page thou wert, Ludovic," said the old commander, 
 " with a beard like a baker's shool, and a back like 
 old Wallace Wight." 
 
 " I fear," said Quentin, with downcast eyes, " T 
 shall enjoy that title to distinction but a short 
 
248 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 time since it is my purpose to resign the service 
 of the Archer-guard." 
 
 Le Balafre was struck almost mute with astonish- 
 ment, and Crawford's ancient features gleamed with 
 displeasure. The former at length mustered words 
 enough to say, " Eesign ! leave your place in the 
 Scottish Archers ! such a thing was never dreamt 
 of. I would not give up my situation, to be made 
 Constable of France." 
 
 " Hush ! Ludovic," said Crawford ; " this youngster 
 knows better how to shape his course with the 
 wind than we of the old world do. His journey 
 hath given him some pretty tales to tell about 
 King Louis ; and he is turning Burgundian, that 
 he may make his own little profit by telling them 
 to Duke Charles. ,, 
 
 " If I thought so," said Le Balafre*, " I would cut 
 his throat with my own hand, were he fifty times 
 my sister's son ! " 
 
 " But you would first enquire, whether I deserved 
 to be so treated, fair kinsman ? " answered Quentin ; 
 "and you, my lord, know that I am no tale- 
 bearer; nor shall either question or torture draw 
 out of me a word to King Louis's prejudice, which 
 may have come to my knowledge while I was in 
 his service. So far my oath of duty keeps me 
 silent. But I will not remain in that service, in 
 which, besides the perils of fair battle with mine 
 enemies, I am to be exposed to the dangers of 
 ambuscade on the part of my friends." 
 
 " Nay, if he objects to lying in. ambuscade," 
 said the slow-witted Le Balafre*, looking sorrowfully 
 at the Lord Crawford, " I am afraid, my lord, that 
 all is over with him ! I myself have had thirty 
 bushments break upon me, and truly I think I have 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 249 
 
 laid in ambuscade twice as often myself, it being 
 a favourite practice in our King's mode of making 
 war." 
 
 " It is so indeed, Ludovic," answered Lord Craw- 
 ford ; " nevertheless, hold your peace, for I believe 
 I understand this gear better than you do." 
 
 "I wish to our Lady you may, my lord," an- 
 swered Ludovic ; " but it wounds me to the very 
 midriff, to think my sister's son should fear an 
 ambushment." 
 
 "Young man," said Crawford, "I partly guess 
 your meaning. You have met foul play on the 
 road where you travelled by the King's command, 
 and you think you have reason to charge him 
 with being the author of it ? " 
 
 "I have been threatened with foul play in the 
 execution of the King's commission," answered 
 Quentin ; " but I have had the good fortune to 
 elude it whether his Majesty be innocent or 
 guilty in the matter, I leave to God and his own 
 conscience. He fed me when I was a-hungered 
 received me when I was a wandering stranger. I 
 will never load him in his adversity with accusa- 
 tions which may indeed be unjust, since I heard 
 them only from the vilest mouths." 
 
 " My dear boy my own lad ! " said Crawford, 
 taking him in his arms " Ye think like a Scot, 
 every joint of you ! Like one that will forget a 
 cause of quarrel with a friend whose back is already 
 at the wall, and remember nothing of him but his 
 kindness." 
 
 "Since my Lord Crawford has embraced my 
 nephew," said Ludovic Lesly, " I will embrace him 
 also though I would have you to know, that to 
 understand the service of an ambushment is as 
 
250 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 necessary to a soldier, as it is to a priest to be able 
 to read his breviary." 
 
 "Be hushed, Ludovic," said Crawford; "ye are 
 an ass, my friend, and ken not the blessing Heaven 
 has sent you in this braw callant. And now tell 
 me, Quentin, my man, hath the King any advice of 
 this brave, christian, and manly resolution of yours ? 
 for, poor man, he had need, in his strait, to ken 
 what he has to reckon upon. Had he but brought 
 the whole brigade of Guards with him ! But God's 
 will be done Kens he of your purpose, think 
 you?" 
 
 " I really can hardly tell," answered Quentin ; 
 "but I assured his learned astrologer, Martius 
 Galeotti, of my resolution to be silent on all that 
 could injure the King with the Duke of Burgundy. 
 The particulars which I suspect, I will not (under 
 your favour) communicate even to your lordship ; 
 and to the philosopher I was, of course, far less 
 willing to unfold myself." 
 
 " Ha ! ay ! " answered Lord Crawford " Oli- 
 ver did indeed tell me that Galeotti prophesied most 
 stoutly concerning the line of conduct you were to 
 hold; and I am truly glad to find he did so on 
 better authority than the stars." 
 
 " He prophesy ! " said Le Balafre*, laughing ; " the 
 stars never told him that honest Ludovic Lesly 
 used to help yonder wench of his to spend the fair 
 ducats he flings into her lap." 
 
 " Hush ! Ludovic," said his captain, " hush ! thou 
 beast, man ! If thou dost not respect my grey 
 hairs, because I have been e'en too much of a rou- 
 tier myself, respect the boy's youth and innocence, 
 and let us have no more of such unbecoming 
 daffing." 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 2$ 
 
 " Your honour may say your pleasure," answered 
 Ludovic Lesly ; " but, by my faith, second-sighted 
 Saunders Souplejaw, the town-souter of Glen- 
 houlakin, was worth Gallotti, or Gallipotty, or 
 whatever ye call him, twice told, for a prophet. He 
 foretold that all my sister's children would die some 
 day ; and he foretold it in the very hour that the 
 youngest was born, and that is this lad Quentin 
 who, no doubt, will one day die, to make up the 
 prophecy the more's the pity the whole curney 
 of them is gone but himself. And Saunders fore- 
 told to myself one day, that I should be made by 
 marriage, which doubtless will also happen in due 
 time, though it hath not yet come to pass 
 though how or when, I can hardly guess, as I care 
 not myself for the wedded state, and Quentin is 
 but a lad. Also, Saunders predicted " 
 
 "Nay/' said Lord Crawford, "unless the pre- 
 diction be singularly to the purpose, I must cut 
 you short, my good Ludovic; for both you and I 
 must now leave your nephew, with prayers to Our 
 Lady to strengthen him in the good mind he is in ; 
 for this is a case in which a light word might do 
 more mischief than all the Parliament of Paris 
 could mend. My blessing with you, my lad ; and 
 be in no hurry to think of leaving our body; for 
 there will be good blows going presently in the 
 eye of day, and no ambuscade.' 
 
 "And my blessing too, nephew," said Ludovic 
 Lesly ; " for, since you have satisfied our most 
 noble captain, I also am satisfied, as in duty bound." 
 
 " Stay, my lord," said Quentin, and led Lord 
 Crawford a little apart from his uncle. " I must 
 not forget to mention, that there is a person besides 
 in the world, who, having learned from me thesa 
 
252 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 circumstances, which it is essential to King Louis's 
 safety should at present remain concealed, may not 
 think that the same obligation of secrecy, which 
 attaches to me as the King's soldier, and as having 
 been relieved by his bounty, is at all binding on 
 her." 
 
 " On her ! " replied Crawford ; " nay, if there be 
 a woman in the secret, the Lord ha' mercy, for we 
 are all on the rocks again ! " 
 
 "Do not suppose so, my lord," replied Durward, 
 "but use your interest with the Count of Creve- 
 coeur to permit me an interview with the Countess 
 Isabelle of Croye, who is the party possessed of my 
 secret, and I doubt not that I can persuade her to 
 be as silent as I shall unquestionably myself remain, 
 concerning whatever may incense the Duke against 
 King Louis." 
 
 The old soldier mused for a long time looked 
 up to the ceiling, then down again upon the floor 
 
 then shook his head, and at length said, " There 
 is something in all this, which, by my honour, I do 
 not understand. The Countess Isabelle of Croye ! 
 
 an interview, with a lady of her birth, blood, and 
 possessions ! and thou, a raw Scottish lad, so cer- 
 tain of carrying thy point with her? Thou art 
 either strangely confident, my young friend, or else 
 you have used your time well upon the journey. 
 But, by the Cross of Saint Andrew ! I will move 
 Crevecoeur in thy behalf; and, as he truly fears 
 that Duke Charles may be provoked against the 
 King to the extremity of falling foul, I think it 
 likely he may grant thy request, though, by my 
 honour, it is a comical one ! " 
 
 So saying, and shrugging up his shoulders, the 
 old Lord left the apartment, followed by Ludovic 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 253 
 
 Lesly, who, forming his looks on those of his prin- 
 cipal, endeavoured, though knowing nothing of the 
 cause of his wonder, to look as mysterious and 
 important as Crawford himself. 
 
 In a few minutes Crawford returned, but without 
 his attendant Le Balafre\ The old man seemed in 
 singular humour, laughing and chuckling to him- 
 self in a manner which strangely distorted his stern 
 and rigid features, and at the same time shaking 
 his head, as at something which he could not help 
 condemning, while he found it irresistibly ludicrous. 
 "My certes, countryman," said he, "but you are 
 not blate you will never lose fair lady for faint 
 heart! Crevecceur swallowed your proposal as he 
 would have done a cup of vinegar, and swore to me 
 roundly, by all the saints in Burgundy, that were 
 less than the honour of princes and the peace of 
 kingdoms at stake, you should never see even so 
 much as the print of the Countess Isabellas foot 
 on the clay. Were it not that he had a dame, and 
 a fair one, I would have thought that he meant to 
 break a lance for the prize himself. Perhaps he 
 thinks of his nephew, the Count Stephen. A 
 Countess ! would no less serve you to be minting 
 at? But come along your interview with her 
 must be brief But I fancy you know how to make 
 the most of little time ho 1 ho ! ho ! By my faith, 
 I can hardly chide thee for the presumption, I have 
 such a good will to laugh at it ! " 
 
 With a brow like scarlet, at once offended and 
 disconcerted by the blunt inferences of the old sol- 
 dier, and vexed at beholding in what an absurd light 
 his passion was viewed by every person of expe- 
 rience, Durward followed Lord Crawford in silence 
 to the Ursuline convent, in which the Countess was 
 
254 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 iodged, and in the parlour of which he found the 
 Count de Crevecoeur. 
 
 " So, young gallant," said the latter, sternly, " you 
 must see the fair companion of your romantic expe- 
 dition once more, it seems ? " 
 
 " Yes, my Lord Count," answered Quentin, firmly ; 
 ' and what is more, I must see her alone." 
 
 " That shall never be," said the Count de Creve- 
 coeur. " Lord Crawford, I make you judge. This 
 young lady, the daughter of my old friend and com- 
 panion in arms, the richest heiress in Burgundy, has 
 confessed a sort of a what was I going to say ? 
 in short, she is a fool, and your man-at-arms 
 here a presumptuous coxcomb In a word, they 
 shall not meet alone." 
 
 " Then will I not speak a single word to the 
 Countess in your presence," said Quentin, much 
 delighted. " You have told me much that I did not 
 dare, presumptuous as I may be, even to hope." 
 
 "Ay, truly said, my friend," said Crawford. 
 "You have been imprudent in your communica- 
 tions ; and, since you refer to me, and there is a 
 good stout grating across the parlour, I would ad- 
 vise you to trust to it, and let them do the worst 
 with their tongues. What, man ! the life of a 
 King, and many thousands besides, is not to be 
 weighed with the chance of two young things 
 whilly-whawing in ilk other's ears for a minute ? " 
 
 So saying, he dragged off Crevecceur, who fol- 
 lowed very reluctantly, and cast many angry 
 glances at the young Archer as he left the room. 
 
 In a moment after, the Countess Isabelle entered 
 on the other side of the grate, and no sooner saw 
 Quentin alone in the parlour, than she stopped 
 short, and- cast her eyes on the ground for the space 
 
% OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 255 
 
 of half a minute. "Yet why should I be ungrate- 
 ful," she said, "because others are unjustly sus- 
 picious ? My friend my preserver, I may almost 
 say, so much have I been beset by treachery my 
 only faithful and constant friend ! " 
 
 As she spoke thus, she extended her hand to him 
 through the grate, nay, suffered him to retain it, 
 until he had covered it with kisses, not unmingled 
 with tears. She only said, "Durward, were we 
 ever to meet again, I would not permit this folly." 
 
 If it be considered that Quentin had guarded her 
 through so many perils that he had been, in truth, 
 her only faithful and zealous protector, perhaps my 
 fair readers, even if countesses and heiresses should 
 be of the number, will pardon the derogation. 
 
 But the Countess extricated her hand at length, 
 and stepping a pace back from the grate, asked 
 Durward, in a very embarrassed tone, what boon 
 he had to ask of her ? " For that you have a re- 
 quest to make, I have learned from the old Scottish 
 Lord, who came here but now with my cousin of 
 Crevecceur. Let it be but reasonable," she said, 
 " but such as poor Isabelle can grant with duty and 
 honour uninfringed, and you cannot tax my slender 
 powers too highly. But, ! do not speak hastily, 
 do not say," she added, looking around with tim- 
 idity, " aught that might, if overheard, do prejudice 
 to us both ! " 
 
 "Fear not, noble lady," said Quentin, sorrow- 
 fully ; " it is not here that I can forget the distance 
 which fate has placed between us, or expose you to 
 the censure of your proud kindred, as the object 
 of the most devoted love to one, poorer and less 
 powerful not perhaps less noble than themselves. 
 Let that pass like a dream of the night to all but 
 
256 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 one bosom, where, dream as it is, it will fill up the 
 room of all existing realities." 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! " said Isabelle ; " for your own 
 sake, for mine, be silent on such a theme. Tell 
 me rather what it is you have to ask of me." 
 
 " Forgiveness to one," replied Quentin, " who, 
 for his own selfish views, hath conducted himself 
 as your enemy." 
 
 " I trust I forgive all my enemies," answered 
 Isabelle ; " but oh, Durward ! through what scenes 
 have your courage and presence of mind protected 
 me ! Yonder bloody hall the good Bishop I 
 knew not till yesterday half the horrors I had 
 unconsciously witnessed ! " 
 
 " Do not think on them," said Quentin, who 
 saw the transient colour which had come to her 
 cheek during their conference, fast fading into the 
 most deadly paleness " Do not look back, but look 
 steadily forward, as they needs must who walk in 
 a perilous road. Hearken to me. King Louis 
 deserves nothing better at your hand, of all others, 
 than to be proclaimed the wily and insidious poli- 
 tician, which he really is. But to tax him as the 
 encourager of your flight still more as the author 
 of a plan to throw you into the hands of De la 
 Marck will at this moment produce perhaps the 
 King's death or dethronement ; and, at all events, 
 the most bloody war between France and Burgundy 
 which the two countries have ever been engaged 
 in." 
 
 " These evils shall not arrive for my sake, if they 
 can be prevented," said the Countess Isabelle ; "and 
 indeed your slightest request were enough to make 
 me forego my revenge, were that at any time a 
 passion which I deeply cherish. Is it possible I 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 257 
 
 would rather remember King Louis's injuries, than 
 your invaluable services ? Yet how is this to be ? 
 When I am called before my Sovereign, the 
 Duke of Burgundy, I must either stand silent, or 
 speak the truth. The former would be contumacy ; 
 and to a false tale you will not desire me to train 
 my tongue." 
 
 "Surely not," said Durward; "but let your 
 evidence concerning Louis be confined to what you 
 yourself positively know to be truth ; and when you 
 mention what others have reported, no matter how 
 credibly, let it be as reports only, and beware of 
 pledging your own personal evidence to that, which, 
 though you may fully believe, you cannot person- 
 ally know to be true. The assembled Council of 
 Burgundy cannot refuse to a Monarch the justice, 
 which in my country is rendered to the meanest 
 person under accusation. They must esteem him 
 innocent, until direct and sufficient proof shall 
 demonstrate his guilt. Now, what does not con- 
 sist with your own certain knowledge, should be 
 proved by other evidence than your report from 
 hearsay." 
 
 "1 think I understand you," said the Countess 
 Isabelle. 
 
 " I will make my meaning plainer," said Quentin ; 
 and was illustrating it accordingly by more than one 
 instance, when the convent-bell tolled. 
 
 " That," said the Countess, " is a signal that we 
 must part part for ever ! But do not forget me, 
 Durward; I will never forget you your faithful 
 services " 
 
 She could not speak more, but again extended 
 her hand, which was again pressed to his lips ; and 
 I know not how it was, that, in endeavouring to 
 
 VOL. 11. 17 
 
258 QUENTIN DU It WARD. 
 
 withdraw, her hand, the Countess came so close to 
 the grating, that Quentin was encouraged to press 
 the adieu on her lips. The young lady did not 
 chide him perhaps there was no time ; for Creve- 
 cceur and Crawford, who had been from some loop- 
 hole eye-witnesses, if not ear-witnesses also, of 
 what was passing, rushed into the apartment, the 
 first in a towering passion, the latter laughing, and 
 holding the Count back. 
 
 "To your chamber, young mistress to your 
 chamber!" exclaimed the Count to Isabelle, who, 
 flinging down her veil, retired in all haste, "which 
 should be exchanged for a cell, and bread and water. 
 And you, gentle sir, who are so malapert, the 
 time will come when the interests of kings and 
 kingdoms may not be connected with such as you 
 are ; and you shall then learn the penalty of your 
 audacity in raising your beggarly eyes " 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! enough said rein up rein up," 
 said the old Lord ; " and you, Quentin, I command 
 you, be silent, and begone to your quarters. There 
 is no such room for so much scorn neither, Sir 
 Count of Crevecceur, that I must say now he is out 
 of hearing Quentin Durward is as much a gentle- 
 man as the King, only, as the Spaniard says, not so 
 rich. He is as noble as myself, and I am chief of 
 my name. Tush, tush ! man, you must not speak 
 to us of penalties." 
 
 " My lord, my lord," said Crevecceur, impatiently, 
 " the insolence of these foreign mercenaries is pro- 
 verbial, and should receive rather rebuke than 
 encouragement from you, who are their leader." 
 
 "My Lord Count," answered Crawford, "I have 
 ordered my command for these fifty years, without 
 advice either from Frenchman or Burgundian ; and 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 259 
 
 [ intend to do so, under your favour, so long as I 
 shall continue to hold it." 
 
 " Well, well, my lord," said Crevecoeur, " I meant 
 you no disrespect ; your nobleness, as well as your 
 age, entitle you to be privileged in your impatience ; 
 and for these young people, I am satisfied to over- 
 look the past, since I will take care that they never 
 meet again." 
 
 "Do not take that upon your salvation, Creve- 
 coeur," said the old Lord, laughing ; " mountains, it 
 is said, may meet, and why not mortal creatures 
 that have legs, and life and love to put those legs 
 in motion ? Yon kiss, Crevecoeur, came tenderly 
 off methinks it was ominous." 
 
 " You are striving again to disturb my patience," 
 said Crevecoeur, "but I will not give you that 
 advantage over me. Hark ! they toll the summons 
 to the Castle an awful meeting, of which God 
 only can foretell the issue." 
 
 " This issue I can foretell," said the old Scottish 
 Lord, " that if violence is to be offered to the person 
 of the King, few as his friends are, and . surrounded 
 by his enemies, he shall neither fall alone nor un- 
 avenged ; and grieved I am, that his own positive 
 orders have prevented my taking measures to 
 prepare for such an issue." 
 
 " My Lord of Crawford," said the Burgundian, 
 " to anticipate such evil is the sure way to give 
 occasion to it. Obey the orders of your royal mas- 
 ter, and give no pretext for violence by taking 
 hasty offence, and you will find that the day will 
 pass over more smoothly than you now conjecture." 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE INVESTIGATION. 
 
 Me rather had, my heart might feel your lore, 
 Than my displeased eye see your courtesy. 
 Up, cousin, up your heart is up, I know. 
 Thus high at least although your knee 
 
 King Richard II. 
 
 At the first toll of the bell, which was to sum- 
 mon the great nobles of Burgundy together in 
 council, with the very few French peers who could 
 be present on the occasion, Duke Charles, followed 
 by a part of his train, armed with partisans and 
 battle-axes, entered the Hall of Herbert's Tower, "\ 
 in the Castle of Peronne. King^jbemc, who had ^ 
 expected the visit, arose and made two steps 
 towards the Duke, and then remained standing with 
 an air of dignity, which, in spite of the meanness 
 of his dress, and the familiarity of his ordinary 
 manners, he knew very well how to assume when 
 he judged it necessary. Upon the present impor- 
 tant crisis, the composure of his demeanour had an 
 evident effect upon his rival, who changed the 
 abrupt and hasty step with which he entered the 
 apartment, into one more becoming a great vassal 
 entering the presence of his Lord Paramount. 
 Apparently the Duke had formed the internal re- 
 solution to treat Louis, in the outset at least, with 
 the formalities due to his high station ; but at the 
 same time it was evident, that, in doing so, he put 
 no small constraint upon the fiery impatience of his 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 261 
 
 own disposition, and was scarce able to control the 
 feelings of resentment, and the thirst of revenge, 
 which boiled in his bosom. Hence, though he com- 
 pelled himself to use the outward acts, and in some 
 degree the language, of courtesy and reverence, 
 his colour came and went rapidly his voice was 
 abrupt, hoarse, and broken his limbs shook, as if 
 impatient of the curb imposed on his motions he 
 frowned and bit his lip until the blood came and 
 every look and movement showed that the most 
 passionate prince who ever lived, was under the 
 dominion of one of his most violent paroxysms of 
 fury. 
 
 The King marked this war of passion with a 
 calm and untroubled eye ; for, though he gathered 
 from the Duke's looks a foretaste of the bitterness 
 of death, which he dreaded alike as a mortal and 
 a sinful man, yet he was resolved, like a wary and 
 skilful pilot, neither to suffer himself to be discon- 
 certed by his own fears, nor to abandon the helm, 
 while there was a chance of saving the vessel by 
 adroit pilotage. Therefore, when the Duke, in 
 a hoarse and broken tone, said something of the 
 scarcity of his accommodations, he answered with 
 a smile, that he could not complain, since he had 
 as yet found Herbert's Tower a better residence 
 than it had proved to one of his ancestors. 
 
 " They told you the tradition then ? " said Charles 
 " Yes here he was slain but it was because he 
 refused to take the cowl, and finish his days in a 
 monastery." 
 
 " The more fool he," said Louis, affecting un- 
 concern, " since he gained the torment of being a 
 martyr, without the merit of being a saint." 
 
 " I come," said the Duke, " to pray your Majesty 
 
262 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 to attend a high council, at which things of weight 
 are to be deliberated upon concerning the welfare 
 of France and Burgundy. You will presently meet 
 them that is, if such be your pleasure " 
 
 " Nay, my fair cousin," said the King, " never 
 strain courtesy so far, as to entreat what you may 
 so boldly command To council, since such is your 
 Grace's pleasure. We are somewhat shorn of our 
 train," he added, looking upon the small suite that 
 arranged themselves to attend him " but you, 
 cousin, must shine out for us both." 
 
 Marshalled by Toison d'Or, chief of the heralds 
 of Burgundy, the Princes left the Earl Herbert's 
 Tower, and entered the castle-yard, which Louis 
 observed was filled with the Duke's body-guard 
 and men-at-arms, splendidly accoutred, and drawn 
 up in martial array. Crossing the court, they en- 
 tered the Council-hall, which was in a much more 
 modern part of the building than that of which 
 Louis had been the tenant, and, though in disre- 
 pair, had been hastily arranged for the solemnity 
 of a public council. Two chairs of state were erected 
 under the same canopy, that for the King being 
 raised two steps higher than the one which the 
 Duke was to occupy ; about twenty of the chief 
 nobility sat, arranged in due order,, on either hand 
 of the chair of state ; and thus, when both the 
 Princes were seated, the person for whose trial, as 
 it might be called, the council was summoned, held 
 the highest place, and appeared to preside in it. 
 
 It was perhaps to get rid of this inconsistency, 
 and the scruples which might have been inspired 
 by it, that Duke Charles, having bowed slightly to 
 the royal chair, bluntly opened the sitting with the 
 following words : 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 263 
 
 "My good vassals and counsellors, it is not un- 
 known to you what disturbances have arisen in our 
 territories, both in our father's time, and in our 
 own, from the rebellion of vassals against superiors, 
 and subjects against their princes. And lately, we 
 have had the most dreadful proof of the height to 
 which these evils have arrived in our case, by the 
 scandalous flight of the Countess Isabelle of Croye, 
 and her aunt the Lady Hameline, to take refuge 
 with a foreign power, thereby renouncing their 
 fealty to us, and inferring the forfeiture of their 
 fiefs ; and in another more dreadful and deplorable 
 instance, by the sacrilegious and bloody murder of 
 our beloved brother and ally the Bishop of Liege, 
 and the rebellion of that treacherous city, which 
 was but too mildly punished for the last insurrec- 
 tion. We have been informed that these sad events 
 may be traced, not merely to the inconstancy and 
 folly of women, and the presumption of pampered 
 citizens, but to the agency of foreign power, and 
 the interference of a mighty neighbour, from whom, 
 if good deeds could merit any return in kind, Bur- 
 gundy could have expected nothing but the most 
 sincere and devoted friendship. If this should 
 prove truth," said the Duke, setting his teeth, and 
 pressing his heel against the ground, " what con- 
 sideration shall withhold us the means being in 
 our power from taking such measures, as shall 
 effectually, and at the very source, close up the 
 main spring, from which these evils have yearly 
 flowed on us ? " 
 
 The Duke had begun his speech with some calm- 
 ness, but he elevated his voice at the conclusion ; 
 and the last sentence was spoken in a tone which 
 made all the counsellors tremble, and brought a 
 
264 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 transient fit of paleness across the King's cheek. 
 He instantly recalled his courage, however, and 
 addressed the council in his turn, in a tone evin- 
 cing so much ease and composure, that the Duke, 
 though he seemed desirous to interrupt or stop him, 
 found no decent opportunity to do so. 
 
 " Nobles of France and of Burgundy," he said, 
 "Knights of the Holy Spirit and of the Golden 
 Fleece ! since a King must plead his cause as an 
 accused person, he cannot desire more distinguished 
 judges, than the flower of nobleness, and muster 
 and pride of chivalry. Our fair cousin of Burgundy 
 hath but darkened the dispute between us, in so far 
 as his courtesy has declined to state it in precise 
 terms. I, who have no cause for observing such 
 delicacy, nay, whose condition permits me not to 
 do so, crave leave to speak more precisely. It is to 
 Us, my lords to Us, his liege Lord, his kinsman, 
 his ally, that unhappy circumstances, perverting 
 our cousin's clear judgment and better nature, have 
 induced him to apply the hateful charges of seducing 
 his vassals from their allegiance, stirring up the 
 people of Liege to revolt, and stimulating the out- 
 lawed William de la Marck to commit a most cruel 
 and sacrilegious murder. Nobles of France and 
 Burgundy, T might truly appeal to the circumstances 
 in which I now stand, as being in themselves a 
 complete contradiction of such an accusation ; for 
 is it to be supposed, that, having the sense of a 
 rational being left me, I should have thrown myself 
 unreservedly into the power of the Duke of Bur- 
 gundy, while I was practising treachery against 
 him, such as could not fail to be discovered, and 
 which, being discovered, must place me, as I now 
 stand, in the power of a justly exasperated prince ? 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 265 
 
 The folly of one who should seat himself quietly 
 down to repose on a mine, after he had lighted the 
 match which was to cause instant explosion, would 
 have been wisdom compared to mine. I have no 
 doubt, that, amongst the perpetrators of those hor- 
 rible treasons at Schonwaldt, villains have been 
 busy with my name but am I to be answerable, 
 who have given them no right to use it ? If two 
 silly women, disgusted on account of some romantic 
 cause of displeasure, sought refuge at my Court, 
 does it follow that they did so by my direction ? 
 It will be found, when enquired into, that, since 
 honour and chivalry forbade my sending them back 
 prisoners to the Court of Burgundy, which I think, 
 gentlemen, no one who wears the collar of these 
 Orders would suggest, that I came as nearly as 
 possible to the same point, by placing them in the 
 hands of the venerable father in God, who is now 
 a saint in heaven." Here Louis seemed much 
 affected, and pressed his kerchief to his eyes " In 
 the hands, I say, of a member of my own family, 
 and still more closely united with that of Burgundy, 
 whose situation, exalted condition in the church, 
 and, alas ! whose numerous virtues, qualified him 
 to be the protector of these unhappy wanderers for 
 a little while, and the mediator betwixt them and 
 their liege Lord. I say, therefore, the only circum- 
 stances which seem in my brother of Burgundy's 
 hasty view of this subject, to argue unworthy sus- 
 picions against me, are such as can be explained 
 on the fairest and most honourable motives ; and 
 I say, moreover, that no one particle of credible 
 evidence can be brought to support the injurious 
 charges which have induced my brother to alter his 
 friendly looks towards one who came to him in full 
 
266 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 confidence of friendship have caused him to turn 
 his festive hall into a court of justice, and his hos- 
 pitable apartments into a prison." 
 
 "My lord, my lord," said Charles, breaking in 
 so soon as the King paused, " for your being here 
 at a time so unluckily coinciding with the execution 
 of your projects, I can only account by supposing, 
 that those who make it their trade to impose on 
 others, do sometimes egregiously delude themselves. 
 The engineer is sometimes killed by the springing 
 of his own petard. For what is to follow, let it 
 depend on the event of this solemn enquiry. Bring 
 hither the Countess Isabelle of Croye ! " 
 
 As the young lady was introduced, supported on 
 the one side by the Countess of Crevecoeur, who 
 had her husband's commands to that effect, and on 
 the other by the Abbess of the Ursuline convent, 
 Charles exclaimed, with his usual harshness of voice 
 and manner, " Soh ! sweet Princess you, who 
 could scarce find breath to answer us when we last 
 laid our just and reasonable commands on you, yet 
 have had wind enough to run as long a course as 
 ever did hunted doe what think you of the fair 
 work you have made between two great Princes, 
 and two mighty countries, that have been like to 
 go to war for your baby face ? " 
 
 The publicity of the scene, and the violence of 
 Charles's manner, totally overcame the resolution 
 which Isabelle had formed, of throwing herself at 
 the Duke's feet, and imploring him to take posses- 
 sion of her estates, and permit her to retire into a 
 cloister. She stood motionless, like a terrified female 
 in a storm, who hears the thunder roll on every 
 side of her, and apprehends, in every fresh peal, the 
 bolt which is to strike her dead. The Countess of 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 267 
 
 Crevecoeur, a woman of spirit equal to her birth, 
 and to the beauty which she preserved even in her 
 matronly years, judged it necessary to interfere. 
 " My Lord Duke," she said, " my fair cousin is 
 under my protection. I know better than your 
 Grace how women should be treated, and we will 
 leave this presence instantly, unless you use a tone 
 and language more suitable to our rank and sex." 
 
 The Duke burst out into a laugh. " Crevecoeur," 
 he said, " thy tameness hath made a lordly dame of 
 thy Countess ; but that is no affair of mine. Give 
 a seat to yonder simple girl, to whom, so far from 
 feeling enmity, I design the highest grace and 
 honour. Sit down, mistress, and tell us at your 
 leisure what fiend possessed you to fly from your 
 native country, and embrace the trade of a damsel 
 adventurous." 
 
 With much pain, and not without several inter- 
 ruptions, Isabelle confessed, that, being absolutely 
 determined against a match proposed to her by the 
 Duke of Burgundy, she had indulged the hope of 
 obtaining protection of the Court of France. 
 
 " And under protection of the French Monarch," 
 said Charles "Of that, doubtless, you were well 
 assured ? " 
 
 " I did indeed so think myself assured," said the 
 Countess Isabelle, " otherwise I had not taken a step 
 so decided." Here Charles looked upon Louis with 
 a smile of inexpressible bitterness, which the King 
 supported with the utmost firmness, except that his 
 lip grew something whiter than it was wont to be. 
 "But my information concerning King Louis's 
 intentions towards us," continued* the Countess, 
 after a short pause, " was almost entirely derived 
 from my unhappy aunt, the Lady Hameline, and her 
 
268 QUENTIN DURWAED. 
 
 opinions were formed upon the assertions and insin- 
 uations of persons whom I have since discovered to 
 be the vilest traitors, and most faithless wretches 
 in the world." She then stated, in brief terms, what 
 she had since come to learn of the treachery of Mar- 
 thon, and of Hayraddin Maugrabin, and added, that 
 she " entertained no doubt that the elder Maugrabin, 
 called Zamet, the original adviser of their flight, was 
 capable of every species of treachery, as well as of 
 assuming the character of an agent of Louis without 
 authority." 
 
 There was a pause while the Countess had con- 
 tinued her story, which she prosecuted, though very 
 briefly, from the time she left the territories of Bur- 
 gundy, in company with her aunt, until the storming 
 of Schonwaldt, and her final surrender to the Count 
 of Crevecceur. All remained mute after she had fin- 
 ished her brief and broken narrative, and the Duke 
 of Burgundy bent his fierce dark eyes on the ground, 
 like one who seeks for a pretext to indulge his pas- 
 sion, but finds none sufficiently plausible to justify 
 himself in his own eyes. "The mole," he said at 
 length, looking upwards, " winds not his dark sub- 
 terranean path beneath our feet the less certainly, 
 that we, though conscious of his motions, cannot ab- 
 solutely trace them. Yet I would know of King 
 Louis, wherefore he maintained these ladies at 
 his Court, had they not gone thither by his own 
 invitation." 
 
 "I did not so entertain them, fair cousin," an- 
 swered the King. "Out of compassion, indeed, I 
 received them in privacy, but took an early opportu- 
 nity of placing them under the protection of the 
 late excellent Bishop, your own ally, and who was 
 (may God assoil him !) a better judge than I, or any 
 
QUENT1N DURWARD. 260 
 
 secular prince, how to reconcile the protection due 
 to fugitives, with the duty which a king owes to his 
 ally from whose dominions they have fled. I boldly 
 ask this young lady, whether my reception of them 
 was cordial, or whether it was not, on the contrary, 
 such as made them express regret that they had 
 made my Court their place of refuge ? " 
 
 "So much was it otherwise than cordial," an- 
 swered the Countess, " that it induced me, at least, 
 to doubt how far it was possible that your Majesty 
 should have actually given the invitation of which 
 we had been assured, by those who called themselves 
 your agents ; since, supposing them to have pro- 
 ceeded only as they were duly authorized, it would 
 have been hard to reconcile your Majesty's conduct 
 with that to be expected from a king, a knight, and 
 a gentleman." 
 
 The Countess turned her eyes to the King as she 
 spoke, with a look which was probably intended as 
 a reproach, but the breast of Louis was armed against 
 all such artillery. On the contrary, waving slowly 
 his expanded hands, and looking around the circle, 
 he seemed to make a triumphant appeal to all pre- 
 sent, upon the testimony borne to his innocence in 
 the Countess's reply. 
 
 Burgundy, meanwhile, cast on him a look which 
 seemed to say, that if in some degree silenced, he 
 was as far as ever from being satisfied, and then 
 said abruptly to the Countess, " Methinks, fair 
 mistress, in this account of your wanderings, you 
 have forgot all mention of certain love-passages 
 So, ho ! blushing already ? Certain knights of the 
 forest, by whom your quiet was for a time inter- 
 rupted. Well that incident hath come to our ear, 
 and something we may presently form out of it. - 
 
270 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 Tell me, King Louis, were it not well, before this 
 vagrant Helen of Troy, or of Croye, set more kings 
 by the ears, were it not well to carve out a fitting 
 match for her ? " 
 
 King Louis, though conscious what ungrateful 
 proposal was likely to be made next, gave a calm 
 and silent assent to what Charles said ; "but the 
 Countess herself was restored to courage by the very 
 extremity of her situation. She quitted the arm of 
 the Countess of Crevecoeur, on which she had hith- 
 erto leaned, came forward timidly, yet with an air 
 of dignity, and, kneeling before the Duke's throne, 
 thus addressed him : " Noble Duke of Burgundy, 
 and my liege Lord; I acknowledge my fault in 
 having withdrawn myself from your dominions 
 without your gracious permission, and will most 
 humbly acquiesce in any penalty you are pleased to 
 impose. I place my lands and castles at your right- 
 ful disposal, and pray you only of your own bounty, 
 and for the sake of my father's memory, to allow 
 the last of the line of Croye, out of her large estate, 
 such a moderate maintenance as may find her ad- 
 mission into a convent for the remainder of her 
 life." 
 
 " What think you, Sire, of the young person's pe- 
 tition to us ? " said the Duke, addressing Louis. 
 
 " As of a holy and humble motion," said the King, 
 " which doubtless comes from that grace which 
 ought not to be reiisted or withstood." 
 
 "The humble" and lowly shall be exalted," said 
 Charles. "Arise, Countess Isabelle we mean 
 better for you than you have devised for yourself. 
 We mean neither to sequestrate your estates, nor 
 to abase your honours, but, on the contrary, will 
 add largely to both." 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 27s 
 
 * Alas ! my lord," said the Countess, continuing 
 on her knees, " it is even that well-meant goodness 
 which I fear still more than your Grace's displeasure, 
 since it compels me " 
 
 " Saint George of Burgundy ! " said Duke Charles, 
 " is our will to be thwarted, and our commands dis- 
 puted, at every turn ? Up, I say, minion, and with- 
 draw for the present when we have time to think 
 of thee, we will so order matters, that, Teste-Saint- 
 Gris ! you shall either obey us, or do worse." 
 
 Notwithstanding this stern answer, the Countess 
 Isabelle remained at his feet, and would probably, 
 by her pertinacity, have driven him to say upon the 
 spot something yet more severe, had not the Coun- 
 tess of Crevecceur, who better knew that Prince's 
 humour, interfered to raise her young friend, and to 
 conduct her from the hall. 
 
 Quentin Durward was now summoned to appear, 
 and presented himself before the King and Duke 
 with that freedom, distant alike from bashful re- 
 serve and intrusive boldness, which becomes a 
 youth at once well-born and well-nurtured, who 
 gives honour where it is due, but without permit- 
 ting himself to be dazzled or confused by the pre- 
 sence of those to whom it is to be rendered. His 
 uncle had furnished him with the means of again 
 equipping himself in the arms and dress of an 
 Archer of the Scottish Guard, and his complexion, 
 mien, and air, suited in an uncommon degree his 
 splendid appearance. His extreme youth, too, pre- 
 possessed the counsellors in his favour, the rather 
 that no one could easily believe that the sagacious 
 Louis would have chosen so very young a person to 
 become the confidant of political intrigues ; and thus 
 the King enjoyed, in this as in other cases, consid- 
 
272 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 erable advantage from his singular choice of agents 
 both as to age and rank, where such election seemed 
 least likely to be made. At the command of the 
 Duke, sanctioned by that of Louis, Quentin com- 
 menced an account of his journey with the Ladies 
 of Croye to the neighbourhood of Liege, premising a 
 statement of King Louis's instructions, which were, 
 that he should escort them safely to the castle of 
 the Bishop. 
 
 " And you obeyed my orders accordingly ? " said 
 the King. 
 
 " I did, Sire," replied the Scot. 
 
 "You omit a circumstance," said the Duke. 
 "You were set upon in the forest by two wan- 
 dering knights." 
 
 " It does not become me to remember or to pro- 
 claim such an incident," said the youth, blushing 
 ingenuously. 
 
 " But it doth not become me to forget it," said 
 the Duke of Orleans. " This youth discharged his 
 commission manfully, and maintained his trust in a 
 manner that I shall long remember. Come to my 
 apartment, Archer, when this matter is over, and 
 thou shalt find I have not forgot thy brave bear- 
 ing, while I am glad to see it is equalled by thy 
 modesty." 
 
 " And come to mine," said Dunois. " I have a 
 helmet for thee, since I think I owe thee one." 
 Quentin bowed low to both, and the examination 
 was resumed. At the command of Duke Charles, 
 he produced the written instructions which he had 
 received for the direction of his journey. 
 
 " Did you follow these instructions literally, sol- 
 dier ? " said the Duke. 
 
 "No, if it please your Grace," replied Quentin. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 273 
 
 "They directed me, as you may be pleased to ob- 
 serve, to cross the Maes near Namur ; whereas I 
 kept the left bank, as being both the nigher and 
 the safer road to Liege." 
 
 " And wherefore that alteration ? " said the Duke. 
 
 "Because I began to suspect the fidelity of my 
 guide," answered Quentin. 
 
 "Now mark the questions I have next to ask 
 thee," said the Duke. " Reply truly to them, and 
 fear nothing from the resentment of any one. But 
 if you palter or double in your answers, I will have 
 thee hung alive in an iron chain from the steeple of 
 the market-house, where thou shalt wish for death 
 for many an hour ere he come to relieve you ! " 
 
 There was a deep silence ensued. At length, hav- 
 ing given the youth time, as he thought, to consider 
 the circumstances in which he was placed, the Duke 
 demanded to know of Durward, who his guide was, 
 by whom supplied, and wherefore he had been led 
 to entertain suspicion of him ? To the first of these 
 questions, Quentin Durward answered, by naming 
 Hayraddin Maugrabin, the Bohemian; to the second, 
 that the guide had been recommended by Tristan 
 l'Hermite ; and in reply to the third point, he men- 
 tioned what had happened in the Franciscan convent, 
 near Namur ; how the Bohemian had been expelled 
 from the holy house ; and how, jealous of his be- 
 haviour, he had dogged him to a rendezvous with 
 one of William de la Marck's lanzknechts, where he 
 overheard them arrange a plan for surprising the 
 ladies who were under his protection. 
 
 " Now, hark thee," said the Duke, " and once more 
 remember thy life depends on thy veracity, did these 
 villains mention their having this King's I mean 
 this very King Louis of France's authority, for their 
 
 VOL. II. 18 
 
274 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 scheme of surprising the escort, and carrying away 
 the ladies ? " 
 
 " If such- infamous fellows had said so," replied 
 Quentin, " I know not how I should have believed 
 them, having the word of the King himself to place 
 in opposition to theirs." 
 
 Louis, who had listened hitherto with most earn- 
 est attention, could not help drawing his breath 
 deeply, when he heard Dur ward's answer, in the 
 manner of one from whose bosom a heavy weight 
 has been at once removed. The Duke again looked 
 disconcerted and moody ; and, returning to the charge, 
 questioned Quentin still more closely, whether he did 
 not understand, from these men's private conversa- 
 tion, that the plots which they meditated had King 
 Louis's sanction ? 
 
 "I repeat, that I heard nothing which could 
 authorize me to say so," answered the young man, 
 who, though internally convinced of the King's ac- 
 cession to the treachery of Hayraddin, yet held it 
 contrary to his allegiance to bring forward his own 
 suspicions on the subject ; " and if I had heard such 
 men make such an assertion, I again say, that I would 
 not have given their testimony weight against the in- 
 structions of the King himself." 
 
 " Thou art a faithful messenger," said the Duke, 
 with a sneer ; " and I venture to say, that in obey- 
 ing the King's instructions, thou hast disappointed 
 his expectations in a manner that thou mights t 
 have smarted for, but that subsequent events 
 have made thy bull-headed fidelity seem like good 
 service." 
 
 "I understand you not, my lord," said Quentin 
 Durward; "all I know is, that my master King 
 Louis sent me to protect these ladies, and that I 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 275 
 
 did so accordingly, to the extent of my ability, both 
 in the journey to Schonwaldt, and through the sub- 
 sequent scenes which took place. I understood the 
 instructions of the King to be honourable, and I 
 executed them honourably ; had they been of a dif- 
 ferent tenor, they would not have suited one of my 
 name or nation." 
 
 " Fier comme un Ecossois" said Charles, who, 
 however disappointed at the tenor of Durward's 
 reply, was not unjust enough to blame him for his 
 boldness. " But hark thee, Archer, what instruc- 
 tions were those which made thee, as some sad 
 fugitives from Schonwaldt have informed us, parade 
 the streets of Liege, at the head of those mutineers, 
 who afterwards cruelly murdered their temporal 
 Prince and spiritual Father ? And what harangue 
 was it which thou didst make after that murder 
 was committed, in which you took upon you, as 
 agent for Louis, to assume authority among the 
 villains who had just perpetrated so great a crime ? " 
 
 " My lord," said Quentin, " there are many who 
 could testify, that I assumed not the character of 
 an envoy of France in the town of Liege, but had 
 it fixed upon me by the obstinate clamours of the 
 people themselves, who refused to give credit to 
 any disclamation which I could make. This I told 
 to those in the service of the Bishop when I had 
 made my escape from the city, and recommended 
 their attention to the security of the Castle, which 
 might have prevented the calamity and horror of 
 the succeeding night. It is, no doubt, true, that I 
 did, in the extremity of danger, avail myself of the 
 influence which my imputed character gave me, to 
 save the Countess Isabelle, to protect my own life, 
 and, so far as I could, to rein in the humour for 
 
276 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 slaughter, which had already broke out in so dread- 
 ful an instance. I repeat, and will maintain it with 
 my body, that T had no commission of any kind 
 from the King of France, respecting the people of 
 Liege, far less instructions to instigate them to mu- 
 tiny ; and that, finally, when I did avail myself of 
 that imputed character, it was as if I had snatched 
 up a shield to protect myself in a moment of emer- 
 gency, and used it, as I should surely have done, 
 for the defence of myself and others, without en- 
 quiring whether I had a right to the heraldic em- 
 blazonments which it displayed." 
 
 " And therein my young companion and pri- 
 soner," said Crevecoeur,' unable any longer to remain 
 silent, " acted with equal spirit and good sense ; and 
 his doing so cannot justly be imputed as blame to 
 King Louis." 
 
 There was a murmur of assent among the sur- 
 rounding nobility which sounded joyfully in the 
 ears of King Louis, whilst it gave no little offence 
 to Charles. He rolled his eyes angrily around ; and 
 the sentiments, so generally expressed by so many 
 of his highest vassals and wisest counsellors, would 
 not perhaps have prevented his giving way to his 
 violent and despotic temper, had not Des Comines, 
 who foresaw the danger, prevented it, by suddenly 
 announcing a herald from the city of Liege. 
 
 " A herald from weavers and nailers ? " exclaimed 
 the Duke " but, admit him instantly. By Our 
 Lady, I will learn from this same herald something 
 further of his employers' hopes and projects, than 
 this young French-Scottish man-at-arms seems 
 desirous to tell me ! " 
 
CHAPTEK XVI 
 
 THE HERALD. 
 
 Ariel. Hark ! they roar. 
 
 Prospero. Let them be hunted soundly. 
 
 The Tempest. 
 
 There was room made in the assembly, and no 
 small curiosity evinced bfl those present to see the 
 herald whom the insurgent Liegeois had ventured 
 to send to so haughty a Prince as the Duke of Bur- 
 gundy, while in such high indignation against them. 
 For it must be remembered, that at this period 
 heralds were only dispatched from sovereign princes 
 to each other upon solemn occasions ; and that the 
 inferior nobility employed pursuivants, a lower rank 
 of officers-at-arms. It may be also noticed in pass- 
 ing, that Louis XL, an habitual derider of whatever 
 did not promise real power or substantial advantage, 
 was in especial a professed contemner of heralds 
 and heraldry, " red, blue, and green, with all their 
 trumpery," 1 to which the pride of his rival Charles, 
 which was of a very different kind, attached no 
 small degree of ceremonious importance. 
 
 The herald, who was now introduced into the 
 presence of the monarchs, was dressed in a tabard, 
 or coat, embroidered with the arms of his master, 
 in which the Boar's-head made a distinguished ap- 
 pearance, in blazonry, which, in the opinion of the 
 
 1 For a remarkable instance of this, see Note IX. 
 
278 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 skilful, was more showy than accurate. The rest 
 of his dress a dress always sufficiently tawdry 
 was overcharged with lace, embroidery, and orna- 
 ment of every kind ; and the plume of feathers 
 which he wore was so high, as if intended to sweep 
 the roof of the hall. In short, the usual gaudy 
 splendour of the heraldic attire was caricatured and 
 overdone. The Boar's-head was not only repeated 
 on every part of his dress, but even his bonnet was 
 formed into that shape, and it was represented with 
 gory tongue and bloody tusks, or, in proper lan- 
 guage, langed and dentated gules; and there was 
 something in the man's ^appearance which seemed 
 to imply a mixture of boldness and apprehension, 
 like one who has undertaken a dangerous commis- 
 sion, and is sensible that audacity alone can carry 
 him through it with safety. Something of the same 
 mixture of fear and effrontery was visible in the 
 manner in which he paid his respects, and he 
 showed also a grotesque awkwardness, not usual 
 amongst those who were accustomed to be received 
 in the presence of princes. 
 
 "Who art thou, in the devil's name?" was the 
 greeting with which Charles the Bold received this 
 singular envoy. 
 
 * I am Eouge Sanglier," answered the herald, 
 " the officer-at-arms of William de la Marck, by 
 the grace of God, and the election of the Chapter, 
 Prince Bishop of Liege." 
 
 " Ha ! " exclaimed Charles ; but, as if subduing 
 his own passion, he made a sign to him to proceed. 
 
 "And, in right of his wife, the Honourable 
 Countess Hameline of Croye, Count of Croye, and 
 Lord of Bracquemont." 
 
 The utter astonishment of Duke Charles at the 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 279 
 
 extremity of boldness with which these titles were 
 announced in his presence, seemed to strike him 
 dumb ; and the herald, conceiving, doubtless, that he 
 had made a suitable impression by the annunciation 
 of his character, proceeded to state his errand. 
 
 "Annuncio vobis gaudium magnum" he said ; 
 " I let you, Charles of Burgundy and Earl of Flan- 
 ders, to know, in my master's name, that under 
 favour of a dispensation of our Holy Father of 
 Rome, presently expected, and appointing a fitting 
 substitute ad sacra, he proposes to exercise at once 
 the office of Prince Bishop, and maintain the rights 
 of Count of Croye." 
 
 The Duke of Burgundy, at this and other pauses 
 in the herald's speech, only ejaculated "Ha!" or 
 some similar interjection, without making any, an- 
 swer ; and the tone of exclamation was that of one 
 who, though surprised and moved, is willing to 
 hear all that is to be said ere he commits himself 
 by making an answer. To the further astonish- 
 ment of all who were present, he forebore from his 
 usual abrupt and violent gesticulations, remaining 
 with the nail of his thumb pressed against his teeth, 
 which was his favourite attitude when giving at- 
 tention, and keeping his eyes bent on the ground, 
 as if unwilling to betray the passion which might 
 gleam in them. 
 
 The envoy, therefore, proceeded boldly and un- 
 abashed in the delivery of his message. " In the 
 name, therefore, of the Prince Bishop of Liege, 
 and Count of Croye, I am to require of you, Duke 
 Charles, to desist from those pretensions and en- 
 croachments which you have made on the free and 
 imperial city of Liege, by connivance with the late 
 Louis of Bourbon, unworthy Bishop thereof. " 
 
280 QUENTIN BURWAKB. 
 
 " Ha ! " again exclaimed the Duke. 
 
 " Also to restore the banners of the community, 
 which you took violently from the town, to the 
 number of six-and-thirty ; to rebuild the breaches 
 in their walls, and restore the fortifications which 
 you tyrannically dismantled, and to acknowledge 
 my master, William de la Marck, as Prince Bishop, 
 lawfully elected in a free Chapter of Canons, of 
 which behold the proces-verbal." 
 
 " Have you finished ? " said the Duke. 
 
 " Not yet," replied the envoy : " T am further 
 to require your Grace, on the part of the said right 
 noble and venerable Prince, Bishop, and Count, 
 that you do presently withdraw the garrison from 
 the Castle of Bracquemont, and other places of 
 strength, belonging to the Earldom of Croye, which 
 have been placed there, whether in your own most 
 gracious name, or in that of Isabelle, calling herself 
 Countess of Croye, or any other; until it shall 
 be decided by the Imperial Diet, whether the 
 fiefs in question shall not pertain to the sister of 
 the late Count, my most gracious Lady Hameline, 
 rather than to his daughter, in respect of the jus 
 emphyteusis." 
 
 "Your master is most learned," replied the 
 Duke. 
 
 " Yet," continued the herald, " the noble and 
 venerable Prince and Count will be disposed, all 
 other disputes betwixt Burgundy and Liege being 
 settled, to fix upon the Lady Isabelle such an ap- 
 panage as may become her quality." 
 
 "He is generous and considerate," said the 
 Duke, in the same tone. 
 
 " Now, by a poor fool's conscience," said Le 
 Glorieux apart, to the Count of Crevecceur, "I 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 281 
 
 would rather be in the worst cow's hide that ever 
 died of the murrain, than in that fellow's painted 
 coat ! The poor man goes on like drunkards, who 
 only look to the other pot, and not to the score 
 which mine host chalks up behind the lattice." 
 
 "Have you yet done?" said the Duke to the 
 herald. 
 
 " One word more," answered Eouge Sanglier, 
 "from my noble and venerable lord aforesaid, re- 
 specting his worthy and trusty ally, the Most 
 Christian King " 
 
 " Ha ! " exclaimed the Duke, starting, and in a 
 fiercer tone than he had yet used; but checking 
 himself, he instantly composed himself again to 
 attention. 
 
 " Which most Christian King's royal person it 
 is rumoured that you, Charles of Burgundy, have 
 placed under restraint, contrary to your duty as 
 a vassal of the Crown of France, and to the faith 
 observed among Christian Sovereigns. For which 
 reason, my said noble and venerable master, by 
 my mouth, charges you to put his Eoyal and Most 
 Christian ally forthwith at freedom, or to receive 
 the defiance which I am authorized to pronounce 
 to you." 
 
 " Have you yet done ? " said the Duke. 
 
 " I have," answered the herald, " and await your 
 Grace's answer, trusting it may be such as will save 
 the effusion of Christian blood." 
 
 " Now ; by Saint George of Burgundy " said the 
 Duke ; but ere he could proceed further, Louis 
 arose, and struck in with a tone of so much dignity 
 and authority, that Charles could not interrupt him. 
 
 " Under your favour, fair cousin of Burgundy," 
 said the King, " we ourselves crave priority of 
 
282 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 voice in replying to this insolent fellow. Sirrah 
 herald, or whatever thou art, carry back notice to 
 the perjured outlaw and murderer, William de la 
 Marck, that the King of France will be presently 
 before Liege, for the purpose of punishing the sa- 
 crilegious murderer of his late beloved kinsman, 
 Louis of Bourbon ; and that he proposes to gibbet 
 De la Marck alive, for the insolence of terming 
 himself his ally, and putting his royal name into 
 the mouth of one of his own base messengers." 
 
 "Add whatever else on my part," said Charles, 
 " which it may not misbecome a prince to send to 
 a common thief, and murderer. And begone ! 
 Yet stay. Never herald went from the Court of 
 Burgundy without having cause to cry, Largesse ! 
 Let him be scourged till the bones are laid bare ! " 
 
 " Nay, but if it please your Grace," said Creve- 
 cceur and D'Hymbercourt together, " he is a herald, 
 and so far privileged." 
 
 "It is you, Messires," replied the Duke, "who 
 are such owls, as to think that the tabard makes 
 the herald. I see by that fellow's blazoning he is 
 a mere impostor. Let Toison d'Or step forward, 
 and question him in your presence." 
 
 In spite of his natural effrontery, the envoy of 
 the Wild Boar of Ardennes now became pale ; and 
 that notwithstanding some touches of paint with 
 which he had adorned his countenance. Toison 
 d'Or, the chief herald, as we have elsewhere said, 
 of the Duke, and King-at-arms within his domi- 
 nions, stepped forward with the solemnity of one 
 who knew what was due to his office, and asked 
 his supposed brother, in what College he had 
 studied the science which he professed. 
 
 " I was bred a pursuivant at the Heraldic College 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 283 
 
 of Ratisbon," answered Eouge Sanglier, " and re- 
 ceived the diploma of Ehrenhold from that same 
 learned fraternity." 
 
 " You could not derive it from a source more 
 worthy," answered Toison d'Or, bowing still lower 
 than he had done before; "and if I presume to 
 confer with you on the mysteries of our sublime 
 science, in obedience to the orders of the most 
 gracious Duke, it is not in hopes of giving, but 
 of receiving knowledge." 
 
 " Go to," said the Duke, impatiently. " Leave 
 off ceremony, and ask him some question that 
 may try his skill." 
 
 " It were injustice to ask a disciple of the worthy 
 College of Arms at Eatisbon, if he comprehendeth 
 the common terms of blazonry," said Toison d'Or; 
 " but I may, without offence, crave of Rouge San- 
 glier to say, if he is instructed in the more mysteri- 
 ous and secret terms of the science, by which the 
 more learned do emblematically, and as it were 
 parabolically, express to each other what is con- 
 veyed to others in the ordinary language, taught in 
 the very accidence as it were of Heraldry ? " 
 
 * r I understand one sort of blazonry as well as 
 another," answered Rouge Sanglier, boldly; "but 
 it may be we have not the same terms in Germany 
 which you have here in Flanders." 
 
 " Alas, that you will say so ! " replied Toison 
 d'Or; "our noble science, which is indeed the very 
 banner of nobleness, and glory of generosity, being 
 the same in all Christian countries, nay, known and 
 acknowledged even by the Saracens and Moors. I 
 would, therefore, pray of you to describe what coat 
 you will after the celestial fashion, that is, by the 
 planets." 
 
284 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 " Blazon it yourself as you will," said Eouge 
 Sanglier ; " I will do no such apish tricks upon 
 commandment, as an ape is made to come aloft." 
 
 " Show him a coat, and let him blazon it his own 
 way," said the Duke; "and if he fails, I promise 
 him that his back shall be gules, azure, and sable." 
 
 "Here," said the herald of Burgundy, taking 
 from his pouch a piece of parchment, " is a scroll, 
 in which certain considerations led me to prick 
 down, after my own poor fashion, an ancient coat. 
 I will pray my brother, if indeed he belong to the 
 honourable College of Arms at Eatisbon, to deci- 
 pher it in fitting language." 
 
 Le Glorieux, who seemed to take great pleasure 
 in this discussion, had by this time bustled himself 
 close up to the two heralds. " I will help thee, 
 good fellow," said he to Kouge Sanglier, as he 
 looked hopelessly upon the scroll. " This, my lords 
 and masters, represents the cat looking out at the 
 dairy-window." 
 
 This sally occasioned a laugh, which was some- 
 thing to the advantage of Kouge Sanglier, as it led 
 Toison d'Or, indignant at the misconstruction of 
 his drawing, to explain it as the coat-of-arms 
 assumed by Childebert, King of France, after he 
 had taken prisoner Gandemar, King of Burgundy ; 
 representing an ounce, or tiger-cat, the emblem of 
 the captive prince, behind a grating, or, as Toison 
 d'Or technically defined it, " Sable, a musion pas- 
 sant Or, oppressed with a trellis gules, cloue* of the 
 second." 
 
 " By my bauble," said Le Glorieux, " if the cat 
 resemble Burgundy, she has the right side of the 
 grating now-a-days." 
 
 "True, good fellow," said Louis, laughing, while 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 285 
 
 the rest of the presence, and even Charles himself 
 seemed disconcerted at so broad a jest, "I owe 
 thee a piece of gold for turning something that 
 looked like sad earnest, into the merry game which 
 I trust it will end in." 
 
 " Silence, Le Glorieux," said the Duke ; " and 
 you, Toison d'Or, who are too learned to be intel- 
 ligible, stand back, and bring that rascal forward, 
 some of you. Hark ye, villain," he said, in his 
 harshest tone, " do you know the difference between 
 argent and or, except in the shape of coined money ? " 
 
 " For pity's sake, your Grace, be good unto me ! 
 
 Noble King Louis, speak for me ! " 
 
 " Speak for thyself," said the Duke " In a word, 
 art thou herald or not ? " 
 
 " Only for this occasion ! " acknowledged the 
 detected official. 
 
 " Now, by St. George ! " said the Duke, eyeing 
 Louis askance, " we know no king no gentleman 
 
 save one, who would have so prostituted the 
 noble science on which royalty and gentry rest ! 
 save that King, who sent to Edward of England a 
 serving man disguised as a herald." \ (d) 
 
 " Such a stratagem," said Louis, laughing or 
 affecting to laugh, "could only be justified at a 
 Court where no heralds were at the time, and when 
 the emergency was urgent. But, though it might 
 have passed on the blunt and thick-witted islander, 
 no one with brains a whit better than those of a 
 wild boar would have thought of passing such a 
 trick upon the accomplished Court of Burgundy." 
 
 "Send him who will," said the Duke, fiercely, 
 * he shall return on their hands in poor case. 
 
 1 Note IX. Disguised Herald, 
 
286 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 Here ! drag him to the market-place ! slash him 
 with bridle-reins and dog-whips until the tabard 
 hang about him in tatters ! Upon the Kouge San- 
 glier ! qa, ga ! Haloo, haloo ! " 
 
 Four or five large hounds, such as are painted 
 in the hunting-pieces upon which Eubens and 
 Schneiders laboured in conjunction, caught the 
 well-known notes with which the Duke concluded, 
 and began to yell and bay as if the boar were just 
 roused from his lair. 
 
 " By the rood ! " said King Louis, observant to 
 catch the vein of his dangerous cousin, " since the 
 ass has put on the boar's hide, I would set the dogs 
 on him to bait him out of it ! " 
 
 " Eight ! right ! " exclaimed Duke Charles, the 
 fancy exactly chiming in with his humour at 
 the moment " it shall be done ! uncouple the 
 hounds ! Hyke a Talbot ! hyke a Beaumont ! 
 We will course him from the door of the Castle to 
 the east gate." 
 
 " I trust your Grace will treat me as a beast of 
 chase," said the fellow, putting the best face he 
 could upon the matter, " and allow me fair law ? " 
 
 "Thou art but vermin," said the Duke, "and 
 entitled to no law, by the letter of the book of 
 hunting ; nevertheless thou shalt have sixty yards 
 in advance, were it but for the sake of thy unparal- 
 leled impudence. Away, away, sirs ! we will see 
 this sport." And the council breaking up tumult- 
 ously, all hurried, none faster than the two Princes, 
 to enjoy the humane pastime which King Louis had 
 suggested. 
 
 The Bouge Sanglier showed excellent sport ; for, 
 winged with terror, and having half a score of 
 fierce boar-hounds hard at his haunches, encou- 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 287 
 
 raged by the blowing of horns and the woodland 
 cheer of the hunters, he flew like the very wind, 
 and had he not been encumbered with his herald's 
 coat, (the worst possible habit for a runner,) he 
 might fairly have escaped dog-free ; he also doubled 
 once or twice, in a manner much approved of by the 
 spectators. None of these, nay, not even Charles 
 himself, was so delighted with the sport as King 
 Louis, who, partly from political considerations, 
 and partly as being naturally pleased with the sight 
 of human suffering when ludicrously exhibited, 
 laughed till the tears ran from his eyes, and in his 
 ecstasies of rapture, caught hold of the Duke's 
 ermine cloak, as if to support himself ; whilst the 
 Duke, no less delighted, flung his arm around the 
 King's shoulder, making thus an exhibition of con- 
 fidential sympathy and familiarity, very much at 
 variance with the terms on which they had so lately 
 stood together. 
 
 At length the speed of the pseudo-herald could 
 save him no longer from the fangs of his pursuers ; 
 they seized him, pulled him down, and would pro- 
 bably soon have throttled him, had not the Duke 
 called out 7 " Stave and tail ! stave and tail ! 
 Take them off him ! He hath shown so good a 
 course, that, though he has made no sport at bay, 
 we will not have him dispatched." 
 
 Several officers accordingly busied themselves in 
 taking off the dogs ; and they were soon seen coup- 
 ling some up, and pursuing others which ran through 
 the streets, shaking in sport and triumph the tat- 
 tered fragments of painted cloth and embroidery 
 rent from the tabard, which the unfortunate wearer 
 had put on in an unlucky hour. 
 
 At this moment, and while the Duke was too 
 
288 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 much engaged with what passed before him to 
 mind what was said behind him, Oliver le Dain, 
 gliding behind King Louis, whispered into his ear 
 " It is the Bohemian, Hayraddin Maugrabin 
 It were not well he should come to speech of the 
 Duke." 
 
 " He must die," answered Louis, in the same tone 
 
 " dead men tell no tales." 
 
 One instant afterwards, Tristan l'Hermite, to 
 whom Oliver had given the hint, stepped forward 
 before the King and the Duke, and said, in his 
 blunt manner, " So please your Majesty and your 
 Grace, this piece of game is mine, and I claim him 
 
 he is marked with my stamp the fleur-de-lis is 
 branded on his shoulder, as all men may see. He 
 is a known villain, and hath slain the King's sub- 
 jects, robbed churches, deflowered virgins, slain deer 
 in the royal parks " 
 
 " Enough, enough," said Duke Charles, " he is 
 my royal cousin's property by many a good title. 
 What will your Majesty do with him ? " 
 
 " If he is left to my disposal," said the King, " I 
 will at least give him one lesson in the science of 
 heraldry, in which he is so ignorant only explain 
 to him practically, the meaning of a cross potence, 
 with a noose dangling proper." 
 
 " Not as to be by him borne, but as to bear him. 
 
 Let him take the degrees under your gossip Tris- 
 tan he is a deep professor in such mysteries." 
 
 Thus answered the Duke, with a burst of dis- 
 cordant laughter at his own wit, which was so cor- 
 dially chorussed by Louis, that his rival could not 
 help looking kindly at him, while he said 
 
 " Ah, Louis, Louis ! would to God thou wert as 
 faithful a monarch as thou art a merry companion ! 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 289 
 
 I cannot but think often on the jovial time we 
 used to spend together." 
 
 " You may bring it back when you will," said 
 Louis ; " I will grant you as fair terms as for very 
 shame's sake you ought to ask in my present con- 
 dition, without making yourself the fable of Chris- 
 tendom ; and I will swear to observe them upon 
 the holy relique which I have ever the grace to 
 bear about my person, being a fragment of the true 
 cross." 
 
 Here he took a small golden reliquary, which 
 was suspended from his neck next to his shirt by 
 a chain of the same metal, and having kissed it 
 devoutly, continued 
 
 " Never was false oath sworn on this most sacred 
 relique, but it was avenged within the year." 
 
 " Yet," said the Duke, " it was the same on which 
 you swore amity to me when you left Burgundy, 
 and shortly after sent the Bastard of Rubempre* to 
 murder or kidnap me." 
 
 " Nay, gracious cousin, now you are ripping up 
 ancient grievances," said the King ; " I promise you, 
 that you were deceived in that matter. Moreover, 
 it was not upon this relique which I then swore, but 
 upon another fragment of the true cross which I 
 got from the Grand Seignior, weakened in virtue, 
 doubtless, by sojourning with infidels. Besides, did 
 not the war of the Public Good break out within 
 the year ; and was not a Burgundian army en- 
 camped at Saint Dennis, backed by all the great 
 feudatories of France; and was I not obliged to 
 yield up Normandy to my brother? God, shield 
 us from perjury on such a warrant as this ! " 
 
 " Well, cousin," answered the Duke ; " I do be- 
 lieve thou hadst a lesson to, keep faith another time. 
 
 VOL. II. 19 
 
290 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 And now for once, without finesse and doubling, 
 will you make good your promise, and go with 
 me to punish this murdering La Marck and the 
 Liegeois ? " 
 
 " I will march against them," said Louis, " with 
 the Ban, and Arriere-Ban of France, and the Ori- 
 flamme displayed." 
 
 " Nay, nay," said the Duke, " that is more than 
 is needful, or maybe advisable. The presence of 
 your Scottish Guard, and two hundred choice 
 lances, will serve to show that you are a free 
 agent. A large army might " 
 
 "Make me so in effect, you would say, my fair 
 cousin ? " said the King. " Well, you shall dictate 
 the numbers of my attendants." 
 
 " And to put this fair cause of mischief out of the 
 way, you will agree to the Countess Isabelle of 
 Croye wedding with the Duke of Orleans ? " 
 
 "Fair cousin," said the King, "you drive my 
 courtesy to extremity. The Duke is the betrothed 
 bridegroom of my daughter Joan. Be generous 
 yield up this matter, and let us speak rather of the 
 towns on the Somme." 
 
 " My council will talk to your Majesty of these," 
 said Charles; "I myself have less at heart the 
 acquisition of territory, than the redress of injuries. 
 You have tampered with my vassals, and your 
 royal pleasure must needs dispose of the hand of 
 a Ward of Burgundy. Your Majesty must bestow 
 it within the pale of your own royal family, since 
 you have meddled with it otherwise, our con- 
 ference breaks off." 
 
 "Were I to say I did this willingly," said the 
 King, " no one would believe me ; therefore do you, 
 my fair cousin, judge of the extent of my wish to 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 291 
 
 oblige you, when I say, most reluctantly, that the 
 parties consenting, and a dispensation from the 
 Pope being obtained, my own objections shall be no 
 bar to this match which you propose." 
 
 " All besides can be easily settled by our minis- ^ 
 ters," said the Duke, " and we are once more cousins 
 and friends." 
 
 " May Heaven be praised ! " said Louis, " who, 
 holding in his hand the hearts of princes, doth 
 mercifully incline them to peace and clemency, and 
 prevent the effusion of human blood. Oliver," he 
 added apart to that favourite, who ever waited 
 around him like the familiar beside a sorcerer, 
 " Hark thee tell Tristan to be speedy in dealing 
 with yonder runagate Bohemian." 
 
CHAPTEK XVII. 
 
 THE EXECUTION. 
 
 I'll take thee to the good green wood, 
 
 And make thine own hand choose the tree. 
 
 Old Ballad. 
 
 * Now God be praised, that gave us the power 
 of laughing, and making others laugh, and shame 
 to the dull cur who scorns the office of a jester ! 
 Here is a joke, and that none of the brightest, 
 (though it may pass, since it has amused two 
 Princes,) which hath gone farther than a thousand 
 reasons of state to prevent a war between France 
 and Burgundy." 
 
 Such was the inference of Le Glorieux, when, in 
 consequence of the reconciliation of which we gave 
 the particulars in the last Chapter, the Burgundian 
 guards were withdrawn from the Castle of Peronne, 
 the abode of the King removed from the ominous 
 Tower of Count Herbert, and, to the great joy 
 both of French and Burgundians, an outward show 
 at least of confidence and friendship seemed so 
 established between Duke Charles and his liege 
 lord. Yet still the latter, though treated with 
 ceremonial observance, was sufficiently aware that 
 he continued to be the object of suspicion, though 
 he prudently affected to overlook it, and appeared 
 to consider himself as entirely at his ease. 
 
QTJENTIN DURWARD. 293 
 
 Meanwhile, as frequently happens in such cases, 
 whilst the principal parties concerned had so far 
 made up their differences, one of the subaltern 
 agents concerned in their intrigues was bitterly 
 experiencing the truth of the political maxim, that 
 if the great have frequent need of base tools, they 
 make amends to society by abandoning them to their 
 fate, so soon as they find them no longer useful. 
 
 This was Hayraddin Maugrabin, who, surren- 
 dered by the Duke's officers to the King's Provost- 
 Marshal, was by him placed in the hands of his two 
 trusty aides-de-camp, Trois-Eschelles and Petit- 
 Andrd, to be dispatched without loss of time. One 
 on either side of him, and followed by a few guards 
 and a multitude of rabble , this playing the Alle- 
 gro, that the Penseroso, he was marched off (to use 
 a modern comparison, like Garrick between Tragedy 
 and Comedy) to the neighbouring forest ; where, to 
 save all further trouble and ceremonial of a gibbet, 
 and so forth, the disposers of his fate proposed to 
 knit him up to the first sufficient tree. 
 
 They were not long in finding an oak, as Petit- 
 Andre' facetiously expressed it, fit to bear such an 
 acorn ; and placing the wretched criminal on a bank, 
 under a sufficient guard, they began their extempo- 
 raneous preparations for the final catastrophe. At 
 that moment, Hayraddin, gazing on the crowd, 
 encountered the eyes of Quentin Durward, who, 
 thinking he recognised the countenance of his faith- 
 less guide in that of the detected impostor, had fol- 
 lowed with the crowd to witness the execution, and 
 assure himself of the identity. 
 
 When the executioners informed him that all was 
 ready, Hayraddin, with much calmness, asked a 
 single boon at their hands. 
 
294 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 " Any thing, my son, consistent with our office,' 
 said Trois-Eschelles. 
 
 " That is," said Hayraddin, " any thing but my 
 life." 
 
 " Even so," said Trois-Eschelles, " and something 
 more; for as you seem resolved to do credit to 
 our mystery, and die like a man, without making 
 wry mouths why, though our orders are to be 
 prompt, I care not if I indulge you ten minutes 
 longer." 
 
 " You are even too generous," said Hayraddin. 
 
 " Truly we may be blamed for it," said Petit- 
 Andre* ; "but what of that? I could consent 
 almost to give my life for such a jerry-come-tumble, 
 such a smart, tight, firm lad, who proposes to come 
 from aloft with a grace, as an honest fellow should 
 do." 
 
 "So that if you want a confessor," said Trois- 
 Eschelles 
 
 " Or a lire of wine," said his facetious compan- 
 ion 
 
 " Or a psalm," said Tragedy 
 
 " Or a song," said Comedy 
 
 "Neither, my good, kind, and most expeditious 
 friends," said the Bohemian "I only pray to speak 
 a few minutes with yonder Archer of the Scottish 
 Guard." 
 
 The executioners hesitated a moment ; but Trois- 
 Eschelles recollecting that Quentin Durward was 
 believed, from various circumstances, to stand high 
 in the favour of their master, King Louis, they 
 resolved to permit the interview. 
 
 When Quentin, at their summons, approached 
 the condemned criminal, he could not but be shocked 
 at his appearance, however justly his doom might 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 295 
 
 have been deserved. The remnants of his heraldic 
 finery, rent to tatters by the fangs of the dogs, and 
 the clutches of the bipeds who had rescued him 
 from their fury to lead him to the gallows, gave 
 him at once a ludicrous and a wretched appearance. 
 His face was discoloured with paint, and with some 
 remnants of a fictitious beard, assumed for the pur- 
 pose of disguise, and there was the paleness of death 
 upon his cheek and upon his lip; yet, strong in 
 passive courage, like most of his tribe, his eye, 
 while it glistened and wandered, as well as the con- 
 torted smile of his mouth, seemed to bid defiance 
 to the death he was about to die. 
 
 Quentin was struck partly with horror, partly 
 with compassion, as he approached the miserable 
 man, and these feelings probably betrayed them- 
 selves in his manner, for Petit-Andre* called out, 
 " Trip it more smartly, jolly Archer This gentle- 
 man's leisure cannot wait for you, if you walk as if 
 the pebbles were eggs, and you afraid of breaking 
 them." 
 
 " I must speak with him in privacy," said the 
 criminal, despair seeming to croak in his accent as 
 he uttered the words. 
 
 "That may hardly consist with our office, my 
 merry Leap-the-ladder," said Petit- Andre* ; " we 
 know you for a slippery eel of old." 
 
 "I am tied with your horse-girths, hand and 
 foot," said the criminal "You may keep guard 
 around me, though out of ear-shot the Archer is 
 your own King's servant And if I give you ten 
 gilders" 
 
 " Laid out in masses, the sum may profit his poor 
 soul," said Trois-Eschelles. 
 
 " Laid out in wine or brantwein, it will comfort 
 
296 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 my poor body," responded Petit- Andre\ "So let 
 them be forthcoming, my little crack-rope." 
 
 "Pay the blood-hounds their fee/' said Hay- 
 raddin to Durward; "I was plundered of every 
 stiver when they took me it shall avail thee 
 much." 
 
 Quentin paid the executioners their guerdon, 
 and, like men of promise, they retreated out of 
 hearing keeping, however, a careful eye on the 
 criminal's motions. After waiting an instant till 
 the unhappy man should speak, as he still remained 
 silent, Quentin at length addressed him, "And to 
 this conclusion thou hast at length arrived ? " 
 
 " Ay," answered Hayraddin, " it required neither 
 astrologer, nor physiognomist, nor chiromantist, to 
 foretell that I should follow the destiny of my 
 family." 
 
 "Brought to this early end by thy long course 
 of crime and treachery ! " said the Scot. 
 
 " No, by the bright Aldeboran and all his brother 
 twinklers ! " answered the Bohemian. " I am 
 brought hither by my folly, in believing that the 
 bloodthirsty cruelty of a Frank could be restrained 
 even by what they themselves profess to hold most 
 sacred. A priest's vestment would have been no 
 safer garb for me than a herald's tabard, however 
 sanctimonious are your professions of devotion and 
 chivalry." 
 
 " A detected impostor has no right to claim the 
 immunities of the disguise he had usurped," said 
 Durward. 
 
 " Detected ! " said the Bohemian. " My jargon 
 was as good as yonder old fool of a herald's ; but 
 let it pass. As well now as hereafter." 
 
 " You abuse time," said Quentin. " If you have 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 297 
 
 aught to tell me, say it quickly, and then take some 
 care of your soul." 
 
 " Of my soul ? " said the Bohemian, with a hid- 
 eous laugh. " Think ye a leprosy of twenty years 
 can he cured in an instant ? If I have a soul, it 
 hath "been in such a course since I was ten years old 
 and more, that it would take me one month to recall 
 all my crimes, and another to tell them to the priest ; 
 and were such space granted me, it is five to one 
 I would employ it otherwise." 
 
 " Hardened wretch, blaspheme not ! Tell me 
 what thou hast to say, and I leave thee to thy 
 fate," said Durward, with mingled pity and horror. 
 
 " I have a boon to ask," said Hayraddin, " but 
 first I will buy it of you ; for your tribe, with all 
 their professions of charity, give nought for nought." 
 
 " I could wellnigh say thy gifts perish with thee," 
 answered Quentin, " but that thou art on the very 
 verge of eternity. Ask thy boon reserve thy 
 bounty it can do me no good I remember enough 
 of your good offices of old." 
 
 "Why, I loved you," said Hayraddin, " for the 
 matter that chanced on the banks of the Cher; and 
 I would have helped you to a wealthy dame. You 
 wore her scarf, which partly misled me ; and indeed 
 I thought that Hameline, with her portable wealth, 
 was more for your market-penny than the other 
 hen-sparrow, with her old roost at Bracquemont, 
 which Charles has clutched, and is likely to keep 
 his claws upon." 
 
 " Talk not so idly, unhappy man," said Quentin ; 
 " yonder officers become impatient." 
 
 " Give them ten gilders for ten minutes more," 
 said the culprit, who, like most in his situation, 
 mixed with his hardihood a desire of procrastina- 
 
298 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 ting his fate, "I tell thee it shall avail thee 
 much." 
 
 " Use then well the minutes so purchased," said 
 Durward, and easily made a new bargain with the 
 Marshal's men. 
 
 This done, Hayraddin continued. " Yes, I 
 assure you I meant you well ; and Hameline would 
 have proved an easy and convenient spouse. Why, 
 she has reconciled herself even with the Boar of 
 Ardennes, though his mode of wooing was some- 
 what of the roughest, and lords it yonder in his sty, 
 as if she had fed on mast-husks and acorns all her 
 life." 
 
 "Cease this brutal and untimely jesting," said 
 Quentin, " or, once more I tell you, I will leave 
 you to your fate." 
 
 " You are right," said Hayraddin, after a mo- 
 ment's pause ; " what cannot be postponed must be 
 faced ! Well, know then, I came hither in this 
 accursed disguise, moved by a great reward from 
 De la Marck, and hoping a yet mightier one from 
 King Louis, not merely to bear the message of de- 
 fiance which you may have heard of, but to tell the 
 King an important secret." 
 
 " It was a fearful risk," said Durward. 
 
 " It was paid for as such, and such it hath 
 proved," answered the Bohemian. " De la Marck 
 attempted before to communicate with Louis by 
 means of Marthon ; but she could not, it seems, ap- 
 proach nearer to him than the astrologer, to whom 
 she told all the passages of the journey, and of 
 Schonwaldt; but it is a chance if her tidings ever 
 reach Louis, except in the shape of a prophecy. 
 But hear my secret, which is more important than 
 aught she could tell. William de la Marck has 
 
QUENTIN DURWABD. 299 
 
 assembled a numerous and strong force within the 
 city of Liege, and augments it daily by means of the 
 old priest's treasures. But he proposes not tcf haz- 
 ard a battle with the chivalry of Burgundy, and 
 still less to stand a siege in the dismantled town 
 This he will do he will suffer the hot-brained 
 Charles to sit down before the place without opposi- 
 tion ; and in the night, make an outfall or sally 
 upon the leaguer with his whole force. Many he 
 will have in French armour, who will cry France, 
 Saint Louis, and Denis Montjoye, as if there were a 
 strong body of French auxiliaries in the city. This 
 cannot choose but strike utter confusion among the 
 Burgundians ; and if King Louis, with his guards, 
 attendants, and such soldiers as he may have with 
 him, shall second his efforts, the Boar of Ardennes 
 nothing doubts the discomfiture of the whole Bur- 
 gundian army. There is my secret, and I bequeath 
 it to you. Forward, or prevent the enterprise sell 
 the intelligence to King Louis, or to Duke Charles, 
 I care not save or destroy whom thou wilt ; for 
 my part, I only grieve that I cannot spring it like a 
 mine, to the destruction of them all ! " 
 
 " It is indeed an important secret," said Quentin, 
 instantly comprehending how easily the national 
 jealousy might be awakened in a camp consisting 
 partly of French, partly of Burgundians. 
 
 " Ay, so it is," answered Hayraddin ; " and, now 
 you have it, you would fain begone, and leave me 
 without granting the boon for which I have paid 
 beforehand." 
 
 " Tell me thy request," said Quentin "I will 
 grant it if it be in my power." 
 
 " Nay, it is no mighty demand it is only in be- 
 half of poor Klepper, my palfrey, the only living 
 
300 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 thing that may miss me. A due mile south, you 
 will find him feeding by a deserted collier's hut; 
 whistle to him thus," (he whistled a peculiar note,) 
 " and call him by his name, Klepper, he will come to 
 you ; here is his bridle under my gaberdine it is 
 lucky the hounds got it not, for he obeys no other. 
 Take him, and make much of him I do not say for 
 his master's sake, but because I have placed at 
 your disposal the event of a mighty war. He will 
 never fail you at need night and day, rough and 
 smooth, fair and foul, warm stables and the winter 
 sky, are the same to Klepper ; had I cleared the 
 gates of Peronne, and got so far as where I left him, 
 I had not been in this case. Will you be kind to 
 Klepper ? " 
 
 " I swear to you that I will," answered Quentin, 
 affected by what seemed a trait of tenderness in a 
 character so hardened. 
 
 " Then fare thee well ! " said the criminal " Yet 
 stay stay I would not willingly die in discour- 
 tesy, forgetting a lady's commission. This billet 
 is from the very gracious and extremely silly Lady 
 of the Wild Boar of Ardennes, to her black-eyed 
 niece I see by your look I have chosen a willing 
 messenger. And one word more I forgot to say, 
 that in the stuffing of my saddle you will find a rich 
 purse of gold pieces, for the sake of which I put my 
 life on the venture which has cost me so dear. Take 
 them, and replace a hundred-fold the gilders you 
 have bestowed on these bloody slaves I make you 
 mine heir." 
 
 " I will bestow them in good works, and masses 
 for the benefit of thy soul," said Quentin. 
 
 " Name not that word again," said Hayraddin, 
 his countenance assuming a dreadful expression; 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 301 
 
 H there is there can be there shall be no such 
 thing ! it is a dream of priestcraft ! " 
 
 " Unhappy most unhappy being ! Think bet- 
 ter ! let me speed for a priest these men will 
 delay yet a little longer I will aribe them to it," 
 said Quentin " What canst thou expect, dying in 
 such opinions, and impenitent ? " 
 
 " To be resolved into the elements," said the har- 
 di'ih'd atheist, pressing his fettered arms against his 
 bosom; "my hope, trust, and expectation is, that 
 the mysterious frame of humanity shall melt into 
 the general mass of nature, to be recompounded in the 
 other forms with which she daily supplies those 
 which daily disappe ar, an d return under different 
 forms, the watery particles to streams and show- 
 ers, the earthly parts to enrich their mother earth, 
 the airy portions to wanton in the breeze, and those 
 of fire to supply the blaze of Aldeboran and his 
 brethren In this faith have I lived, and I will die 
 in it ! Hence S begone ! disturb me no farther ! 
 I have spoken the last word that mortal ears 
 shall listen to ! " 
 
 Deeply impressed with the horrors of his con- 
 dition, Quentin Durward yet saw that it was vain 
 to hope to awaken him to a sense of his fearful 
 state. He bid him, therefore, farewell ; to which the 
 criminal only replied by a short and sullen nod, as 
 one who, plunged in reverie, bids adieu to company 
 which distracts his thoughts.. He bent his course 
 towards the forest, and easily found where Klepper 
 was feeding. The creature came at his call, but was 
 for some time unwilling to be caught, snuffing and 
 starting when the stranger approached him. At 
 length, however, Quentin's general acquaintance 
 with the habits of the animal, and perhaps some 
 
302 QUENTIN DURWAKD. 
 
 particular knowledge of those of Klepper, which he 
 had often admired while Hayraddin and he travelled 
 together, enabled him to take possession of the Bo- 
 hemian's dying bequest. Long ere he returned to 
 Peronne, the Bohemian had gone where the vanity 
 of his dreadful creed was to be put to the final issue 
 - a fearful experience for one who had neither 
 expressed remorse for the past, nor apprehension 
 for the future ! 
 
CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 A PRIZE FOR HONOUR. 
 
 'Tis brave for Beauty when the best blade wins her. 
 
 The Count Palatine. 
 
 When Quentin Durward reached Peronne, a coun- 
 cil was sitting, in the issue of which he was inter- 
 ested more deeply than he could have apprehended, 
 and which, though held by persons of a rank with 
 whom one of his could scarce be supposed to have 
 community of interest, had nevertheless the most 
 extraordinary influence on his fortunes. 
 
 King Louis, who, after the interlude of De la 
 Marck's envoy, had omitted no opportunity to cul- 
 tivate the returning interest which that circumstance 
 had given him in the Duke's opinion, had been en- 
 gaged in consulting him, or, it might be almost said, 
 receiving his opinion, upon the number and quality 
 of the troops, by whom, as auxiliary to the Duke 
 of Burgundy, he was to be attended in their joint 
 expedition against Liege. He plainly saw the wish 
 of Charles was to call into his camp such French- 
 men as, from their small number and high quality, 
 might be considered rather as hostages than as auxi- 
 liaries ; but, observant of Crevecceur's advice, he 
 assented as readily to whatever the Duke proposed, 
 as if it had arisen from the free impulse of his own 
 mind. 
 
304 QUENTTN DURWARD. 
 
 The King failed not, however, to indemnify him- 
 self for his complaisance, by the indulgence of his 
 vindictive temper against Balue, whose counsels 
 had led him to repose such exuberant trust in the 
 Duke of Burgundy. Tristan, who bore the sum- 
 mons for moving up his auxiliary forces, had the 
 farther commission to carry the Cardinal to the 
 Castle of Loches, and there shut him up in one of 
 those iron cages, which he himself is said to have 
 invented. 
 
 " Let him make proof of his own devices," said 
 the King ; "he is a man of holy church we may 
 not shed his blood ; but, Pasques-dieu ! his bishop- 
 ric, for ten years to come, shall have an impreg- 
 nable frontier to make up for its small extent! 
 And see the troops are brought up instantly." 
 
 Perhaps, by this prompt acquiescence, Louis 
 hoped to evade the more unpleasing condition with 
 which the Duke had clogged their reconciliation. 
 But if he so hoped, he greatly mistook the temper of 
 his cousin ; for never man lived more tenacious 
 of his purpose than Charles of Burgundy, and least 
 of all was he willing to relax any stipulation which 
 he had made in resentment, or revenge, of a sup- 
 posed injury. 
 
 No sooner were the necessary expresses dispatched 
 to summon up the forces who were selected to act 
 as auxiliaries, than Louis was called upon by his 
 host to give public consent to the espousals of the 
 Duke of Orleans and Tsabelle of Croye. The King 
 complied with a heavy sigh, and presently after 
 urged a slight expostulation, founded upon the 
 necessity of observing the wishes of the Duke 
 himself. 
 
 "These have not been neglected," said the Duke 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 305 
 
 of Burgundy ; " Crevecoeur hath communicated with 
 Monsieur d'Orleans, and finds him (strange to say) 
 so dead to the honour of wedding a royal bride, 
 that he acceded to the proposal of marrying the 
 Countess of Croye, as the kindest proposal which 
 father could have made to him." 
 
 "He is the more ungracious and thankless/' said 
 Louis ; " but the whole shall be as you, my cousin, 
 will ; if you can bring it about with consent of the 
 parties themselves." 
 
 " Fear not that," said the Duke ; and accord- 
 ingly, not many minutes after the affair had been 
 proposed, the Duke of Orleans and the Countess 
 of Croye, the latter attended, as on the preceding 
 occasion, by the Countess of Crevecoeur, and the 
 Abbess of the Ursulines, were summoned to the 
 presence of the Princes, and heard from the mouth 
 of Charles of Burgundy, unobjected to by that of 
 Louis, who sat in silent and moody consciousness 
 of diminished consequence, that the union of their 
 hands was designed by the wisdom of both Princes, 
 to confirm the perpetual alliance which in future 
 should take place betwixt France and Burgundy. 
 
 The Duke of Orleans had much difficulty in sup- 
 pressing the joy which he felt upon the proposal, 
 and which delicacy rendered improper in the pre- 
 sence of Louis ; and it required his habitual awe 
 of that monarch, to enable him to rein in his de- 
 light, so much as merely to reply, " that his duty 
 compelled him to place his choice at the disposal of 
 his Sovereign." 
 
 " Fair cousin of Orleans," said Louis, with sullen 
 gravity, " since I must speak on so unpleasant an 
 occasion, it is needless for me to remind you, that 
 my sense of your merits had led me to propose for 
 
 VOL. II. 20 
 
306 QUENTIN DURWABD. 
 
 you a match into my own family. But, since my 
 cousin of Burgundy thinks, that the disposing of. 
 your hand otherwise is the surest pledge of amity 
 between his dominions and mine, I love both too 
 well not to sacrifice to them my own hopes and 
 wishes." 
 
 The Duke of Orleans threw himself on his knees, 
 and kissed, and, for once, with sincerity of attach- 
 ment, the hand which the King, with averted 
 countenance, extended to him. In fact, he, as well 
 as most present, saw, in the unwilling acquiescence 
 of this accomplished dissembler, who, even with 
 that very purpose, had suffered his reluctance to be 
 visible, a*King relinquishing his favourite project, 
 and subjugating his paternal feelings to the neces- 
 sities of state, and interest of his country. Even 
 Burgundy was moved, and Orleans' heart smote 
 him for the joy which he involuntarily felt on being 
 freed from his engagement with the Princess Joan. 
 If he had known how^deeply the King was cursing 
 him in his soul, and what thoughts of future re- 
 venge he was agitating, it is probable his own deli- 
 cacy on the occasion would not have been so much 
 hurt. 
 
 Charles next turned to the young Countess, and 
 bluntly announced the proposed match to her, as 
 a matter which neither admitted delay nor hesita- 
 tion ; adding, at the same time, that it was but a 
 too favourable consequence of her intractability on 
 a former occasion. 
 
 "My Lord Duke and Sovereign," said Isabelle, 
 summoning up all her courage, " I observe your 
 Grace's commands, and submit to them." 
 
 "Enough, enough," said the Duke, interrupting 
 her, " we will arrange the rest. Your Majesty." 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 307 
 
 he continued, addressing King Louis, " hath had 
 a boar's hunt in the morning, what say you tc 
 rousing a wolf in the afternoon ? " 
 
 The young Countess saw the necessity of deci- 
 sion. " Your Grace mistakes my meaning," she 
 said, speaking, though timidly, yet -loudly and de- 
 cidedly enough to compel the Duke's attention, f 
 which, from some consciousness, he would other- 
 wise have willingly denied to her. " My submis- 
 sion," she said, "only respected those lands and 
 estates which your Grace's ancestors gave to mine, 
 and which I resign to the House of Burgundy, if 
 my Sovereign thinks my disobedience in this mat- 
 ter renders me unworthy to hold them." ' 
 
 " Ha ! Saint George ! " said the Duke; stamping 
 furiously on the ground, "does the fool know in 
 what presence she is And to whom she speaks ? " 
 
 " My lord," she replied, still undismayed,'" I am 
 before my Suzerain, and, I trust, a just one. If 
 you deprive me of my lantfs, you take away all 
 that your ancestors' generosity gave, and you break 
 the only bonds which attach us together. You gave 
 not this poor and persecuted form, still less the 
 spirit which animates me And these it is my pur- 
 pose to dedicate to Heaven in the convent of the 
 Ursulines, under the guidance of this Holy Mother 
 Abbess." 
 
 The rage and astonishment of the Duke can 
 hardly be conceived, unless we could estimate the 
 surprise of a falcon, against whoju a dove should 
 ruffle its pinions in defiance. " Will the Holy 
 Mother receive you without an appanage ? " he said, 
 in a voice of scorn. 
 
 " If she doth her convent, in the first instance, " 
 so much wrong," said the Lady Isabelle, " I trust 
 
3 o8 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 there is charity enough among the noble friends of 
 my house, to make up some support for the orphan 
 of Croye." 
 
 " It is false ! " said the Duke ; " it is a base pre- 
 text to cover some secret and unworthy passion. 
 My Lord of Orleans, she shall be yours, if I drag 
 her to the altar with my own hands ! " 
 
 The Countess of Crevecoeur, a high-spirited wo- 
 man, and confident in her husband's merits and 
 his favour with the Duke, could keep silent no 
 longer. "My lord," she said, "your passions 
 transport you into language utterly unworthy 
 The hand of no gentlewoman can be disposed of 
 by force." 
 
 "And it is no part of the duty of a Christian 
 Prince," added the Abbess, " to thwart the wishes 
 of a pious soul, who, broken with the cares and 
 persecutions of the world, is desirous to become the 
 bride of Heaven." 
 
 " Neither can my cousin of Orleans," said Dunois, 
 " with honour accept a proposal, to which the lady 
 has thus publicly stated her objections." 
 
 "If I were permitted," said Orleans, on whose 
 facile mind Isabelle's beauty had made a deep im- 
 pression, " some time to endeavour to place my 
 pretensions before the Countess in a more favour- 
 able light " 
 
 " My lord," said Isabelle, whose firmness was 
 now fully supported by the encouragement which 
 she received from, all around, " it were to no pur- 
 pose my mind is made up to decline this alliance, 
 though far above my deserts." 
 
 " Nor have I time," said the Duke, " to wait till 
 these whimsies are changed with the next change 
 of the moon. Monseigneur d'Orleans, she shall 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 309 
 
 learn within this hour, that obedience becomes 
 matter of necessity." 
 
 " Not in my behalf, Sire," answered the Prince, 
 who felt that he could not, with any show of hon- 
 our, avail himself of the Duke's obstinate dispo- 
 sition ; "to have been once openly and positively 
 refused, is enough for a Son of France. He cannot 
 prosecute his addresses farther." 
 
 The Duke darted one furious glance at Orleans, 
 another at Louis ; and reading in the countenance 
 of the latter, in spite of his utmost efforts to sup^ 
 press his feelings, a look of secret triumph, he be- 
 came outrageous. 
 
 " Write," he said to the Secretary, " our doom 
 of forfeiture and imprisonment against this diso- 
 bedient and insolent minion ! She shall to the Zucht- 
 haus, to the penitentiary, to herd with those whose 
 lives have rendered them her rivals in effrontery ! " 
 
 There was a general murmur. 
 
 "My Lord Duke," said the Count "of Crevecoeur, 
 taking the word for the rest, " this must be better 
 thought on. We, your faithful vassals, cannot suf- 
 fer such a dishonour to the nobility and chivalry 
 of Burgundy. If the Countess hath done amiss, let 
 her be punished but in the manner that becomes 
 her rank, and ours, who stand connected with her 
 house by blood and alliance." 
 
 The Duke paused a moment, and looked full at 
 his counsellor with the stare of a bull, which, when 
 compelled by the neat-herd from the road which 
 he wishes to go, deliberates with himself whether 
 to obey, or to rush on his driver, and toss him into 
 the air. 
 
 Prudence, however, prevailed over fury he saw 
 the sentiment was general in his council was 
 
3 io QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 afraid of the advantages which Louis might derive 
 from seeing dissension among his vassals ; and pro- 
 bably for he was rather of a coarse and violent, 
 than of a malignant temper felt ashamed of his 
 own dishonourable proposal. 
 
 " You are right," he said, " Crevecceur, and I 
 spoke hastily. Her fate shall be determined ac- 
 cording to the rules of chivalry. Her flight to Liege 
 hath given the signal for the Bishop's murder. He 
 that best avenges that deed, and brings us the head 
 I of the Wild Boar of Ardennes, shall claim her hand 
 \of us ; and if she denies his right, we can at least 
 Want him her fiefs, leaving it to his generosity to 
 allow her what means he will to retire into a convent." 
 
 " Nay ! " said the Countess, " think I am the 
 daughter of Count Eeinold of your father's old, 
 valiant, and faithful servant. Would you hold me 
 out as a prize to the best sword-player ? " 
 
 " Your ancestress," said the Duke, " was won 
 at a tourney - you shall be fought for in real melee. 
 Only thus far, for Count Eeinold's sake, the suc- 
 cessful prizer shall be a gentleman, of unimpeached 
 birth, and unstained bearings ; but, be he such, and 
 the poorest who ever drew the strap of a sword- 
 belt through the tongue of a buckle, he shall have 
 at least the proffer of your hand. I swear it, by 
 St. George, by my ducal crown, and by the Order 
 that I wear ! Ha ! Messires," he added, turning 
 to the nobles present, " this at least is, I think, in 
 conformity with the rules of chivalry ? " 
 
 Isabelle's remonstrances were drowned in a gen- 
 eral and jubilant assent, above which was heard 
 the voice of old Lord Crawford, regretting the 
 weight of years that prevented his striking for so 
 fair a prize. The Duke was gratified by the general 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 311 
 
 applause, and his temper began to flow more smoothly, 
 like that of a swollen river when it hath subsided 
 within its natural boundaries. 
 
 " Are we, to whom fate has given dames already," 
 said Crevecceur, " to be bystanders at this fair game ? 
 It does not consist with my honour to be so, for I 
 have myself a vow to be paid at the expense of that 
 tusked and bristled brute, De la Marck." 
 
 " Strike boldly in, Crevecceur," said the Duke ; 
 " win her, and since thou canst not wear her thy- 
 self, bestow her where thou wilt on Count Ste- 
 phen, your nephew, if you list." 
 
 " Gramercy, my lord ! " said Crevecceur, " I will 
 do my best in the battle ; and, should I be fortu- 
 nate enough to be foremost, Stephen shall try his 
 eloquence against that of the Lady Abbess." 
 
 " I trust," said Dunois, " that the chivalry of 
 France are not excluded from this fair contest ?" 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! brave Dunois," answered the 
 Duke, " were it but for the sake of seeing you do 
 your uttermost. But," he added, " though there 
 be no fault in the Lady Isabelle wedding a French- 
 man, it will be necessary that the Count of Croye 
 must become a subject of Burgundy." 
 
 " Enough, enough," said Dunois, " my bar sin- 
 ister may never be surmounted by the coronet of 
 Croye I will live and die French. But yet, 
 though I should lose the lands, I will strike a blow 
 for the lady." 
 
 Le Balafre' dared not speak aloud in such a 
 presence, but he muttered to himself 
 
 " Now, Saunders Souplejaw, hold thine own ! 
 thou always saidst the fortune of our house was 
 to be won by marriage, and never had you such a 
 chance to keep your word with us." 
 
312 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 " No one thinks of me," said Le Glorieux, " who 
 am sure to carry off the prize from all of you." 
 
 " Eight, my sapient friend," said Louis ; " when a 
 woman is in the case, the greatest fool is ever the 
 first in favour." 
 
 While the princes and their nobles thus jested 
 over her fate, the Abbess and the Countess of Creve- 
 cceur endeavoured in vain to console Isabelle, who 
 had withdrawn with them from the council-presence. 
 The former assured her, that the Holy Virgin would 
 frown on every attempt to withdraw a true votaress 
 from the shrine of Saint Ursula ; while the Coun- 
 tess of Crevecoeur whispered more temporal consola- 
 tion, that no true knight, who might succeed in the 
 emprize proposed, would avail himself, against her 
 inclinations, of the Duke's award ; and that per- 
 haps the successful competitor might prove one who 
 should find such favour in her eyes as to reconcile 
 her to obedience. Love, like despair, catches at 
 straws ; and, faint and vague as was the hope which 
 this insinuation conveyed, the tears of the Coun- 
 tess Isabelle flowed more placidly while she dwelt 
 upon it. 1 
 
 x The perilling the hand of an heiress upon the event of a battle, 
 was not so likely to take place in the fourteenth century as when 
 the laws of chivalry were in more general observance. Yet it was 
 not unlikely to occur to so absolute a Prince as Duke Charles, in 
 circumstances like those supposed. 
 
CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 THE SALLY. 
 
 The wretch condemn'd with life to part, 
 
 Still still on hope relies, 
 And every pang that rends the heart 
 
 Bids expectation rise. 
 
 Hope, like the glimmering taper's light, 
 
 Adorns and cheers the way ; 
 And still the darker grows the night, 
 
 Emits a brighter ray. 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 Few days had passed ere Louis had received, with 
 a smile of gratified vengeance, the intelligence, 
 that his favourite and his counsellor, the Cardinal 
 Balue, was groaning within a cage of iron, so dis- 
 posed as scarce to permit him to enjoy repose in 
 any posture except when recumbent ; and of which, 
 be it said in passing, he remained the unpitied 
 tenant for nearly twelve years. The auxiliary 
 forces which the Duke had required Louis to bring 
 up had also appeared ; and he comforted himself 
 that their numbers were sufficient to protect his 
 person against violence, although too limited to 
 cope, had such been his purpose, with the large army 
 of Burgundy. He saw himself also at liberty, when 
 time should suit, to resume his project of marriage 
 between his daughter and the Duke of Orleans ; 
 and, although he was sensible to the indignity of 
 serving with his noblest peers under the banners of 
 
314 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 his own vassal, and against the people whose cause 
 he had abetted, he did not allow these circumstances 
 to embarrass him in the meantime, trusting that a 
 future day would bring him amends. " For 
 chance," said he to his trusty Oliver, " may indeed 
 gain one hit, but it is patience and wisdom which 
 win the game at last." 
 
 With such sentiments, upon a beautiful day in 
 the latter end of harvest, the King mounted his 
 horse ; and, indifferent that he was looked upon 
 rather as a part of the pageant of a victor, than in 
 the light of an independent Sovereign surrounded 
 by his guards and his chivalry, King Louis sallied 
 from under the Gothic gateway of Peronne, to join 
 the Burgundian army, which commenced at the 
 same time its march against Liege. 
 
 Most of the ladies of distinction who were in the 
 place, attended, dressed in their best array, upon 
 the battlements and defences of the gate, to see 
 the gallant show of the warriors setting forth on the 
 expedition. Thither had the Countess Crevecoeur 
 brought the Countess Isabelle. The latter attended 
 very reluctantly ; but the peremptory order of 
 Charles had been, that she who was to bestow the 
 palm in the tourney, should be visible to the knights 
 Who were about to enter the lists. 
 
 As they thronged out from under the arch, many 
 a pennon and shield was to be seen, graced with 
 fresh devices, expressive of the bearer's devoted 
 resolution to become a competitor for a prize so 
 fair. Here a charger was painted starting for the 
 goal, there an arrow aimed at a mark, one 
 knight bore a bleeding heart, indicative of his pas- 
 sion, another a skull, and a coronet of laurels, 
 showing his determination to win or die. Many 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 315 
 
 others there were ; and some so cunningly intricate 
 and obscure, that they might have defied the most 
 ingenious interpreter. Each knight, too, it may 
 be presumed, put his courser to his mettle, ana 
 assumed his most gallant seat in the saddle, as he 
 passed for a moment under the view of the fair 
 bevy of dames and damsels, who encouraged their 
 valour by their smiles, and the waving of kerchiefs 
 and of veils. The Archer-guard, selected almost 
 at will from the flower of the Scottish nation, drew 
 general applause, from the gallantry and splendour 
 of their appearance. 
 
 And there was one among these strangers, who 
 ventured on a demonstration of acquaintance with 
 the Lady Isabelle, which had not been attempted 
 even by the most noble of the French nobility. 
 It was Quentin Durward, who, as he passed the 
 ladies in his rank, presented to the Countess of 
 Croye, on the point of his lance, the letter of her 
 aunt. 
 
 " Now, by my honour," said the Count of Creve- 
 coeur, " that is over insolent in an unworthy 
 adventurer ! " 
 
 " Do not call him so, Crevecoeur," said- Dunois ; 
 " I have good reason to bear testimony to his gal- 
 lantry and in behalf of that lady, too." 
 
 "You make words of nothing," said Isabelle, 
 blushing with shame, and partly with resentment ; 
 " it is a letter from my unfortunate aunt She 
 writes cheerfully, though her situation must be 
 dreadful." 
 
 " Let us hear, let us hear what says the Boar's 
 bride," said Crevecoeur. 
 
 The Countess Isabelle read the letter, in which 
 her aunt seemed determined to make the best of a 
 
316 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 bad bargain, and to console herself for the haste 
 and indecorum of her nuptials, by the happiness of 
 being wedded to one of the bravest men of the age, 
 who had just acquired a princedom by his valour. 
 She implored her niece not to judge of her William 
 (as she called him) by the report of others, but to 
 wait till she knew him personally. He had his 
 faults, perhaps, but they were such as belonged to 
 characters whom she had ever venerated. William 
 was rather addicted to wine, but so was the gallant 
 Sir Godfrey, her grandsire ; he was something 
 hasty and sanguinary in his temper, such had been 
 her brother, Eeinold of blessed memory ; he was 
 blunt in speech, few Germans were otherwise ; and 
 a little wilful and peremptory, but she believed all 
 men loved to rule. More there was to the same 
 purpose ; and the whole concluded with the hope 
 and request, that Isabelle would, by means of the 
 bearer, endeavour her escape from the tyrant of 
 Burgundy, and come to her loving kinswoman's 
 Court of Liege, where any little differences concern- 
 ing their mutual rights of succession to the Earldom 
 might be adjusted by Isabelle's marrying Earl 
 Eberson- a bridegroom younger indeed than his 
 bride, but that, as she (the Lady Hameline) might 
 perhaps say from experience, was an inequality more 
 easy to be endured than Isabelle could be aware of. 1 
 
 Here the Countess Isabelle stopped ; the Abbess 
 observing, with a prim aspect, that she had read 
 quite enough concerning such worldly vanities, and 
 the Count of Crevecoeur breaking out, " Aroint thee, 
 
 1 It is almost unnecessary to add, that the marriage of William 
 de la Marck with the Lady Hameline, is as apocryphal as the lady 
 herself. The real bride of the Wild Boar of Ardennes was Joan 
 D'Arschel, Baroness of Scoonhoven. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 317 
 
 deceitful witch ! Why, this device smells rank 
 as the toasted cheese in a rat-trap Now fie, and 
 double tie, upon the old decoy-duck ! " 
 
 The Countess of Crevecceur gravely rebuked her 
 husband for his violence "The Lady Hameline," 
 she said, " must have been deceived by De la Marck 
 with a show of courtesy." 
 
 " He show courtesy ! " said the Count "I ac- 
 quit him of all such dissimulation. You may as 
 well expect courtesy from a literal wild boar you 
 may as well try to lay leaf-gold on old rusty gibbet- 
 irons. No idiot as she is, she is not quite goose 
 enough to fall in love with the fox who has snapped 
 her, and that in his very den. But you women are 
 all alike fair words carry it and, I dare say, 
 here is my pretty cousin impatient to join her aunt 
 in this fool's paradise, and marry the Boar-Pig." 
 
 "So far from being capable of such folly," said 
 Isabelle, " I am doubly desirous of vengeance on the 
 murderers of the excellent Bishop, because it will, 
 at the same time, free my aunt from the villain's 
 power." 
 
 " Ah ! there indeed spoke the voice of Croye ! " 
 exclaimed the Count; and no more was said con- 
 cerning the letter. 
 
 But while Isabelle read her aunt's epistle to her 
 friends, it must be observed that she did not think 
 it necessary to recite a certain postscript, in which 
 the Countess Hameline, lady-like, gave an account 
 of her occupations, and informed her niece, that she 
 had laid aside for the present a surcoat which she 
 was working for her husband, bearing the arms of 
 Croye and La Marck in conjugal fashion, parted 
 per pale, because her William had determined, for 
 purposes of policy, in the first action to have others 
 
318 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 dressed in his coat-armour, and himself tc assume 
 the arms of Orleans, with a bar sinister in other 
 words, those of Dunois. There was also a slip of 
 paper in another hand, the contents of which the 
 Countess did not think it necessary to mention, 
 being simply these words " If you hear not of me 
 soon, and that by the trumpet of Fame, conclude 
 me dead, but not unworthy." 
 
 A thought, hitherto repelled as wildly incredible, 
 now glanced with double keenness through Isabelle's 
 soul. As female wit seldom fails in the contrivance 
 of means, she so ordered it, that ere the troops were 
 fully on march, Quentin Durward received from an 
 unknown hand the billet of Lady Hameline, marked 
 with three crosses opposite to the postscript, and 
 having these words subjoined : " He who feared 
 not the arms of Orleans when on the breast of their 
 gallant owner, cannot dread them when displayed 
 on that of a tyrant and murderer." A thousand 
 thousand times was this intimation kissed and 
 pressed to the bosom of the young Scot ! for it mar- 
 shalled him on the path where both Honour and 
 Love held out the reward, and possessed him with 
 a secret unknown to others, by which to distinguish 
 him whose death could alone give life to his hopes, 
 and which he prudently resolved to lock up in his 
 own bosom. 
 
 But Durward saw the necessity of acting other- 
 wise respecting the information communicated by 
 Hayraddin, since the proposed sally of De la Marck, 
 unless needfully guarded against, might prove the 
 destruction of the besieging army ; so difficult was 
 it, in the tumultuous warfare of those days, to re- 
 cover from a nocturnal surprise. After pondering 
 en the matter, he formed the additional resolution, 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 319 
 
 that he would not communicate the intelligence save 
 personally, and to both the Princes while together ; 
 perhaps, because he felt that to mention so well- 
 contrived and hopeful a scheme to Louis whilst in 
 private, might be too strong a temptation to the 
 wavering probity of that Monarch, and lead him to 
 assist, rather than repel the intended sally. He 
 determined, therefore, to watch for an opportunity 
 of revealing the secret whilst Louis and Charles 
 were met, which, as they were not particularly fond 
 of the constraint imposed by each other's society 
 was not likely soon to occur. 
 
 Meanwhile the march continued, and the confed- 
 erates soon entered the territories of Liege. Here 
 the Burgundian soldiers, at least a part of them, 
 composed of those bands who had acquired the title 
 of Ecorcheurs, or flayers, showed by the usage 
 which they gave the inhabitants, under pretext of 
 avenging the Bishop's death, that they well deserved 
 that honourable title ; while their conduct greatly 
 prejudiced the cause of Charles, the aggrieved in- 
 habitants, who might otherwise have been passive 
 in the quarrel, assuming arms in self-defence, harass- 
 ing his march, by cutting off small parties, and fall- 
 ing back before the main body upon the city itself, 
 thus augmenting the numbers and desperation of 
 those who had resolved to defend it. The French, 
 few in number, and those the choice soldiers of the 
 country, kept, according to the King's orders, close 
 by their respective standards, and observed the 
 strictest discipline ; a contrast which increased the 
 suspicions of Charles, who could not help remarking 
 that the troops of Louis demeaned themselves as if 
 they were rather friends to the Liegeois, than allies 
 of Burgundy. 
 
320 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 At length, without experiencing any serious op- 
 position, the army arrived in the rich valley of the 
 Maes, and before the large and populous city of 
 Liege. The Castle of Schonwaldt they found had 
 been totally destroyed, and learned that William 
 de la Marck, whose only talents were of a military 
 cast, had withdrawn his whole forces into the city, 
 and was determined to avoid the encounter of the 
 chivalry of France and Burgundy in the open field. 
 But the invaders were not long of experiencing the 
 danger which must always exist in attacking a large 
 town, however open, if the inhabitants are disposed 
 to defend it desperately. 
 
 A part of the Burgundian vanguard, conceiving 
 that, from the dismantled and breached state of the 
 walls, they had nothing to do but to march into 
 Liege at their ease, entered one of the suburbs with 
 the shouts of " Burgundy, Burgundy ! Kill, kill 
 all is ours - Remember Louis of Bourbon ! " But 
 as they marched in disorder through the narrow 
 streets, and were partly dispersed for the purpose 
 of pillage, a large body of the inhabitants issued 
 suddenly from the town, fell furiously upon them, 
 and made considerable slaughter. De la Marck even 
 availed himself of the breaches in the walls, which 
 permitted the defenders to issue out at different 
 points, and, by taking separate routes into the con- 
 tested suburb, to attack, in the front, flank, and rear, 
 at once, the assailants, who, stunned by the furious, 
 unexpected, and multiplied nature of the resistance 
 offered, could hardly stand to their arms. The even- 
 ing, which began to close, added to their confusion. 
 
 When this news was brought to Duke Charles, 
 he was furious with rage, which was not much 
 appeased by the offer of King Louis, to send the 
 
QUENTIN DURWARb. 321 
 
 French men-at-arms into the suburbs, to rescue and 
 bring off the Burgundian vanguard. Eejecting. 
 this offer briefly, he would have put himself at the 
 head of his own Guards, to extricate those engaged 
 in the incautious advance; but D'Hymbercourt and 
 Crevecoeur entreated him to leave the service to 
 them, and, marching into the scene of action at two 
 points, with more order and proper arrangement 
 for mutual support, these two celebrated captains 
 succeeded in repulsing the Liegeois, and in extri- 
 cating the vanguard, who lost, besides prisoners, 
 no fewer than eight hundred men, of whom about 
 a hundred were men-at-arms. The prisoners, how- 
 ever, were not numerous, most of them having been 
 rescued by D'Hymbercourt, who now proceeded to 
 occupy the contested suburb, and to place guards 
 opposite to the town, from which it was divided by 
 an open space, or esplanade, of five or six hundred 
 yards, left free of buildings for the purposes of 
 defence. There was no moat betwixt the suburb 
 and town, the ground being rocky in that place. A 
 gate fronted the suburb, from which sallies might 
 be easily made, and the wall was pierced by two or 
 three of those breaches which Duke Charles had 
 caused to be made after the battle of Saint Tron, 
 and which had been hastily repaired with mere bar- 
 ricades of timber. D'Hymbercourt turned two cul- 
 verins on the gate, and placed two others opposite 
 to the principal breach, to repel any sally from the 
 city, and then returned to the Burgundian army, 
 which he found in great disorder. 
 
 In fact, the main body and rear of the numerous 
 army of the Duke had continued to advance, while 
 the broken and repulsed vanguard was in the act of 
 retreating; and they had come into collision with 
 
 VOL. II. 21 
 
322 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 each other, to the great confusion of both. The nec- 
 essary absence of D'Hymbercourt, who discharged 
 all the duties of Mare'chal du Camp, or, as we should 
 now say, of Quarter-master-general, augmented the 
 disorder; and to complete the whole, the night 
 sunk down dark as a wolf's mouth : there fell a 
 thick and heavy rain, and the ground, on which the 
 beleaguering army must needs take up their posi- 
 tion, was muddy, and intersected with many canals. 
 It is scarce possible to form an idea of the confu- 
 sion which prevailed in the Burgundian army, 
 where leaders were separated from their soldiers, 
 and soldiers from their standards and officers. Every 
 one, from the highest to the lowest, was seeking 
 shelter and accommodation where he could indi- 
 vidually find it; while the wearied and wounded, 
 who had been engaged in the battle, were calling 
 in vain for shelter and refreshment ; and while those 
 who knew nothing of the disaster, were pressing 
 on to have their share in the sack of the place, which 
 they had no doubt was proceeding merrily. 
 
 When D'Hymbercourt returned, he had a task to 
 perform of incredible difficulty, and embittered by 
 the reproaches of his master, who made no allow- 
 ance for the still more necessary duty in which he 
 had been engaged, until the temper of the gallant 
 soldier began to give way under the Duke's unrea- 
 sonable reproaches. "I went hence to restore some 
 order in the van," he said, " and left the main body 
 under your Grace's own guidance ; and now, on my 
 return, I can neither find that we have front, flank, 
 nor rear, so utter is the confusion." 
 
 "We are the more like a barrel of herrings," 
 answered Le Glorieux, " which is the most natural 
 resemblance for a Flemish army.' 1 
 
QUENTTN DURWARD. 323 
 
 The jester's speech made the Duke laugh, and 
 perhaps prevented a farther prosecution of the 
 altercation betwixt him and his general. 
 
 By dint of great exertion, a small lust-haus, or 
 country villa of some wealthy citizen of Liege, was 
 secured and cleared of other occupants, for the ac- 
 commodation of the Duke and his immediate attend- 
 ants ; and the authority of D'Hymbercourt and 
 Crevecceur at length established a guard in the 
 vicinity, of about forty men-at-arms, who lighted a 
 very large fire, made with the timber of the out- 
 houses, which they pulled down for the purpose. 
 
 A little to the left of this villa, and betwixt it 
 and the suburb, which, as we have said, was 
 opposite to the city-gate, and occupied by the 
 Burgundian vanguard, lay another pleasure-house, 
 surrounded by a garden and court-yard, and having 
 two or three small enclosures or fields in the rear 
 of it. In this the King of France established his 
 own head-quarters. He did not himself pretend 
 to be a soldier, further than a natural indifference 
 to danger and much sagacity qualified him to be 
 called such ; but he was always careful to employ 
 the most skilful in that profession, and reposed in 
 them the confidence they merited. Louis and his 
 immediate attendants occupied this second villa; 
 a part of his Scottish Guard were placed in the 
 court, where there were outhouses and sheds to 
 shelter them from the weather ; the rest were 
 stationed in the garden. The remainder of the 
 French men-at-arms were quartered closely together 
 and in good order, with alarm-posts stationed, in 
 case of their having to sustain an attack. 
 
 Dunois and Crawford, assisted by several old 
 officers and soldiers, amongst whom Le Balafre* was 
 
324 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 conspicuous for his diligence, contrived, by break- 
 ing down walls, making openings through hedges, 
 filling up ditches, and the like, to facilitate the 
 communication of the troops with each other, and 
 the orderly combination of the whole in case of 
 necessity. 
 
 Meanwhile, the King judged it proper to go 
 without farther ceremony to the quarters of the 
 Duke of Burgundy, to ascert ' it was to be 
 
 the order of proceeding, and wll&t co-operation 
 was expected from him. His presence occasioned 
 a sort of council of war to be held, of which 
 Charles might not otherwise have dreamed. 
 
 It was then that Quentin Durward prayed ear- 
 nestly to be admitted, as having something of 
 importance to deliver to the two Princes. This 
 was obtained without much difficulty, and great 
 was the astonishment of Louis, when he heard him 
 calmly and distinctly relate the purpose of William 
 de la Marck, to make a sally upon the camp of 
 the besiegers, under the dress and banners of the 
 French. Louis would probably have been much 
 better pleased to have had such important news com- 
 municated in private ; but as the whole story had 
 been publicly told in presence of the Duke of Bur- 
 gundy, he only observed, " that, whether true or false, 
 such a report concerned them most materially." 
 
 " Not a whit ! not a whit ! " said the Duke, 
 carelessly. " Had there been such a purpose as 
 this young man announces, it had not been com- 
 municated to me by an Archer of the Scottish 
 Guard." 
 
 "However that may be," answered Louis, "I 
 pray you, fair cousin, you and your captains, to 
 attend, that to prevent the unpleasing consequences 
 
QUENT1N DURWARD. 325 
 
 of such an attack, should it he made unexpectedly, 
 I will cause my soldiers to wear white scarfs over 
 their armour Dunois, see it given out on the 
 instant that is," he added, " if our brother and 
 general approves of it." 
 
 " I see no objection," replied the Duke, " if the 
 chivalry of France are willing to run the risk of 
 having the name of Knights of the Smock-sleeve 
 bestowed on ^ jjg future." 
 
 " It would eas" a* right well adapted title, friend 
 Charles," said Le Glorieux, "considering that a 
 woman is the reward of the most valiant." 
 
 " Well spoken, Sagacity," said Louis " Cousin, 
 good-night, I will go arm me. By the way, what 
 if I win the Countess with mine own hand ? " 
 
 " Your Majesty," said the Duke, in an altered 
 tone of voice, " must then become a true Fleming." 
 
 " I canir t," answered Louis, in a tone of the 
 most sincere confidence, " be more so than I am 
 already, could I but bring you, my dear cousin, to 
 believe it." 
 
 The Duke only replied by wishing the King 
 good-night, in a tone resembling the snort of a 
 shy horse, starting from the caress of the rider 
 when he is about to mount, and is soothing him 
 to stand still. 
 
 " I could pardon all his duplicity," said the Duke 
 to Crevecceur, " but cannot forgive his supposing 
 me capable of the gross folly of being duped by his 
 professions." 
 
 Louis, too, had his confidences with Oliver le 
 Dain when he returned to his own quarters. - 
 " This Scot," he said, " is such a mixture of shrewd- 
 ness and simplicity, that I know not what to make 
 of him. Pasques-dieu ! think of his unpardonable 
 
326 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 folly in bringing out honest De la Marck's plan 
 of a sally before the face of Burgundy, Creveeoeur, 
 and all of them, instead of rounding it in my ear, 
 and giving me at least the choice of abetting or 
 defeating it ! " 
 
 " It is better as it is, Sire," said Oliver ; " there 
 are many in your present train who would scruple 
 to assail Burgundy undefied, or to ally themselves 
 with De la Marck." 
 
 " Thou art right, Oliver. Such fools there are in 
 the world, and we have no time to reconcile their 
 scruples by a little dose of self-interest. We must 
 be true men, Oliver, and good allies of Burgundy, 
 for this night at least, time may give us a chance 
 of a better game. Go, tell no man to unarm him- 
 self ; and let them shoot, in case of necessity, as 
 sharply on those who cry France and St. Dennis ! 
 as if they cried Hell and Satan! I will myself sleep 
 in my armour. Let Crawford place Quentin Dur- 
 ward on the extreme point of our line of sentinels, 
 next to the city. Let him e'en have the first bene- 
 fit of the sally which he has announced to us if 
 his luck bear him out, it is the better for him. But 
 take an especial care of Martius Galeotti, and see 
 he remain in the rear, in a place of the most ab- 
 solute safety he is even but too venturous ; and, 
 like a fool, would be both swordsman and philoso- 
 pher. See to these things, Oliver, and good-night 
 Our Lady of Clery, and Monseigneur Saint Martin 
 of Tours, be gracious to my slumbers ! " l 
 
 1 Note X. Attack upon Liege. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE SALLY. 
 
 He look'd, and saw what numbers numberless 
 The city-gates out-pour'd. 
 
 Paradise Regained. 
 
 A dead silence soon reigned over that great host 
 which lay in leaguer before Liege. For a long time 
 the cries of the soldiers repeating their signals, and 
 seeking to join their several banners, sounded like 
 the howling of bewildered dogs seeking their mas- 
 ters. But at length overcome with weariness by the 
 fatigues of the day, the dispersed soldiers crowded 
 under such shelter as they could meet with, and 
 those who could find none, sunk down through very 
 fatigue, under walls, hedges, and such temporary 
 protection, there to wait for morning, a morning 
 which some of them were never to behold. A dead 
 sleep fell on almost all, excepting those who kept a 
 faint and weary watch by the lodgings of the King 
 and the Duke. The dangers and hopes of the mor- 
 row even the schemes of glory which many of the 
 young nobility had founded upon the splendid prize 
 held out to him who should avenge the murdered 
 Bishop of Liege glided from their recollection as 
 they lay stupified with fatigue and sleep. But not 
 so with Qnentin Burward. The knowledge that he 
 alone was possessed of the means of distinguishing 
 La Marck in the contest the recollection by whom 
 
328 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 that information had been communicated, and the 
 fair augury which might be drawn from her con- 
 veying it to him the thought that his fortune had 
 brought him to a most perilous and doubtful crisis 
 indeed, but one where there was still, at least, a 
 chance of his coming off triumphant, banished every 
 desire to sleep, and strung his nerves with vigour, 
 which defied fatigue. 
 
 Posted, by the King's express order, on the ex- 
 treme point between the French quarters and the 
 town, a good way to the right of the suburb which 
 we have mentioned, he sharpened his eye to pene- 
 trate the mass which lay before him, and excited 
 his ears, to catch the slightest sound which might 
 announce any commotion in the beleaguered "city. 
 But its huge clocks had successively knelled three 
 hours after midnight, and all continued still and 
 silent as the grave. 
 
 At length, and just when Quentin began to think 
 the attack would be deferred till daybreak, and joy- 
 fully recollected that there would be then light 
 enough to descry the Bar Sinister across the Fleur- 
 de-lis of Orleans, he thought he heard in the city 
 a humming murmur, like that of disturbed bees 
 mustering for the defence of their hives. He 
 listened the noise continued ; but it was of a 
 character so undistinguished by any peculiar or 
 precise sound, that it might be the murmur of a 
 wind rising among the boughs of a distant grove, or 
 perhaps some stream swollen by the late rain, which 
 was discharging itself into the sluggish Maes with 
 more than usual clamour. Quentin was prevented 
 by these considerations from instantly giving the 
 alarm, which, if done carelessly, would have been a 
 heavy offence. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 329 
 
 But when the noise rose louder, and seemed pour- 
 ing at the same time towards his own post, and 
 towards the suburb, he deemed it his duty to fall 
 back as silently as possible, and call his uncle, who 
 commanded the small body of Archers destined to 
 his support. All were on their feet in a moment, 
 and with as little noise as possible. In less than a 
 second, Lord Crawford was at their head, and, dis- 
 patching an archer to alarm the King and his 
 household, drew back his little party to some dis- 
 tance behind their watchfire, that they might not 
 be seen by its light. The rushing sound, which had 
 approached them more nearly, seemed suddenly to 
 have ceased ; but they still heard distinctly the 
 more distant heavy tread of a large body of men 
 approaching the suburb. 
 
 " The lazy Burgundians are asleep on their post," 
 whispered Crawford; "make for the suburb, Cun- 
 ningham, and awaken the stupid oxen." 
 
 "Keep well to the rear as you go," said Dur- 
 ward ; " if ever I heard the tread of mortal men, 
 there is a strong body interposed between us and 
 the suburb." 
 
 "Well said, Quentin, my dainty callant," said 
 Crawford ; " thou art a soldier beyond thy years. 
 They only make halt till the others come forward. 
 I would I had some knowledge where they are ! " 
 
 "I will creep forward, my lord," said Quentin, 
 " and endeavour to bring you information." 
 
 " Do so, my bonny chield ; thou hast sharp ears 
 and eyes, and good-will but take heed I would 
 not lose thee for two and a plack." * 
 
 Quentin, with his harquebuss ready prepared, stole 
 forward, through ground which he had reconnoitred 
 
 1 An homely Scottish expression for something you value. 
 
330 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 carefully in the twilight of the preceding evening, 
 until he was not only certain that he was in the 
 neighbourhood of a very large body of men, who 
 were standing fast betwixt the King's quarters and 
 the suburbs, but also that there was a detached 
 party of smaller number in advance, and very close 
 to him. They seemed to whisper together, as if un- 
 certain what to do next. At last, the steps of 
 two or three Enfans perdus, detached from that 
 smaller party, approached him so near as twice 
 a pike's length. Seeing it impossible to retreat un- 
 discovered, Quentin called out aloud, " Qui vive ? " 
 and was answered by " Vive Li Li ege c'est-d 
 dire" (added he who spoke, correcting himself,) 
 " Vive la France ! " Quentin instantly fired his 
 harquebuss a man groaned and fell, and he him- 
 self, under the instant but vague discharge of a 
 number of pieces, the fire of which ran in a disor- 
 derly manner alongst the column, and showed it to 
 be very numerous, hastened back to the main guard. 
 
 " Admirably done, my brave boy ! " said Craw- 
 ford. "Now, callants, draw in within the court- 
 yard they are too many to mell with in the open 
 field." 
 
 They drew within the court-yard and garden 
 accordingly, where they found all in great order, 
 and the King prepared to mount his horse. 
 
 "Whither away, Sire?" said Crawford; "you 
 are safest here with your own people." 
 
 " Not so," said Louis ; " I must instantly to the 
 Duke. He must be convinced of our good faith 
 at this critical moment, or we shall have both 
 Liegeois and Burgundians upon us at once." And 
 springing on his horse, he bade Dunois command 
 the French troops without the house, and Craw- 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 331 
 
 ford the Archer-guard and other household troops 
 to defend the lust-haus and its enclosures. He 
 commanded them to bring up two sakers, and as 
 many falconets, (pieces of cannon for the field,) 
 which had been left about half a mile in the rear ; 
 and, in the meantime, to make good their posts, 
 but by no means to advance, whatever success they 
 might obtain ; and having given these orders, he 
 rode off, with a small escort, to the Duke's quarters. 
 
 The delay which permitted these arrangements 
 to be carried fully into effect, was owing to Quen- 
 tin's having fortunately shot the proprietor of the 
 house, who acted as guide to the column which was 
 designed to attack it, and whose attack, had it been 
 made instantly, might have had a chance of being 
 successful. 
 
 Durward, who, by the King's order, attended 
 him to the Duke's, found the latter in a state of 
 choleric distemperature, which almost prevented 
 his discharging the duties of a general, which were 
 never more necessary ; for, besides the noise of a 
 close and furious combat which had now taken 
 place in the suburb upon the left of their whole 
 army, besides the attack upon the King's quar- 
 ters, which was fiercely maintained in the centre, 
 a third column of Liegeois, of even superior 
 numbers, had filed out from a more distant breach, 
 and, marching by lanes, vineyards, and passes, 
 known to themselves, had fallen upon the right 
 flank of the Burgundian army, who, alarmed at 
 their war-cries of Vive la France ! and Dennis Mont- 
 joief which mingled with those of Liege and Rouge 
 Sanglier, and at the idea thus inspired, of treachery 
 on the part of the French confederates, made a very 
 desultory and imperfect resistance ; while the Duke, 
 
332 QUENTIN DURWARD, 
 
 foaming, and swearing, and cursing his liege Lord 
 and all that belonged to him, called out to shoot 
 with bow and gun on all that was French, whether 
 black or white, alluding to the sleeves with which 
 Louis's soldiers had designated themselves. 
 
 The arrival of the King, attended only by Le 
 Balafre' and Quentin, and half a score of Archers, 
 restored confidence between France and Burgundy. 
 D'Hymbercourt, Crevecoeur, and others of the Bur- 
 gundian leaders, whose .names were then the praise 
 and dread of war, rushed devotedly into the con- 
 flict; and, while some commanders hastened to 
 bring up more distant troops, to whom the panic 
 had not extended, others threw themselves into the 
 tumult, re-animated the instinct of discipline, and 
 while the Duke toiled in the front, shouting, hack- 
 ing, and hewing, like an ordinary man-at-arms, 
 brought their men by degrees into array, and dis- 
 mayed the assailants by the use of their artillery. 
 The conduct of Louis on the other hand, was that 
 of a calm, collected, sagacious leader, who neither 
 sought nor avoided danger, but showed so much 
 self-possession and sagacity, that the Burgundian 
 leaders readily obeyed the orders which he issued. 
 
 The scene was now become in the utmost degree 
 animated and horrible. On the left the suburb, 
 after a fierce contest, had been set on fire, and a 
 wide and dreadful conflagration did not prevent the 
 burning ruins from being still disputed. On the 
 centre, the French troops, though pressed by im- 
 mense odds, kept up so close and constant a fire, 
 that the little pleasure-house shone bright with the 
 glancing flashes, as if surrounded with a martyr's 
 crown of flames. On the left, the battle swayed 
 backwards and forwards with varied success, as fresh 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 333 
 
 reinforcements poured out of the town, or were 
 brought forward from the rear of the Burgundian 
 host; and the strife continued with unremitting 
 fury for three mortal hours, which at length brought 
 the dawn, so much desired by the besiegers. The 
 enemy, at this period, seemed to be slackening 
 their efforts upon the right and in the centre, and 
 several discharges of cannon were heard from the 
 lust-haus. 
 
 " Go," said the King, to Le Balafre* and Quentin, 
 the instant his ear had caught the sound ; " they 
 have got up the sakers and falconets the pleasure- 
 house is safe, blessed be the Holy Virgin ! Tell 
 Dunois to move this way, but rather nearer the 
 walls of Liege, with all our men-at-arms, excepting 
 what he may leave for the defence of the house, and 
 cut in between those thick-headed Liegeois on the 
 right and the city, from which they are supplied 
 with recruits." 
 
 The uncle and nephew galloped off to Dunois 
 and Crawford, who, tired of their defensive war, 
 joyfully obeyed the summons, and, filing out at the 
 head of a gallant body of about two hundred French 
 gentlemen, besides squires, and the greater part of 
 the Archers and their followers, marched across the 
 field, trampling down the wounded, till they gained 
 the flank of the large body of Liegeois, by whom 
 the right of the Burgundians had been so fiercely 
 assailed. The increasing daylight discovered that 
 the enemy were continuing to pour out from the 
 city, either for the purpose of continuing the battle 
 on that point, or of bringing safely off the forces 
 who were already engaged. 
 
 " By Heaven ! " said old Crawford to Dunois, 
 were I not certain it is thou that art riding by 
 
334 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 my side, I would say I saw thee among yonder ban- 
 ditti and burghers, marshalling and arraying them 
 with thy mace only, if yon be thou, thou art 
 bigger than thou art wont to be. Art thou sure 
 yonder armed leader is not thy wraith, thy double- 
 man, as these Flemings call it ? " 
 
 " My wraith ! " said Dunois ; " I know not what 
 you mean. But yonder is a caitiff with my bearings 
 displayed on crest and shield, whom I will presently 
 punish for his insolence." 
 
 " In the name of all that is noble, my lord, leave 
 the vengeance to me ! " said Quentin. 
 
 " To thee indeed, young man ? " said Dunois ; 
 " that is a modest request. No these things 
 brook no substitution." Then turning on his saddle, 
 he called out to those around him, " Gentlemen of 
 France, form your line, level your lances ! Let the 
 rising sunbeams shine through the battalions of 
 yonder swine of Liege and hogs of Ardennes, that 
 masquerade in our ancient coats." 
 
 The men-at-arms answered with a loud shout of 
 " A Dunois !a Dunois ! Long live the bold Bas- 
 tard ! Orleans to the rescue ! " And, with their 
 leader in the centre, they charged at full gallop. 
 They encountered no timid enemy. The large body 
 which they charged, consisted (excepting some 
 mounted officers) entirely of infantry, who, setting 
 the but of their lances against their feet, the front 
 rank kneeling, the second stooping, and those 
 behind presenting their spears over their heads, 
 offering such resistance to the rapid charge of the 
 men-at-arms as the hedge-hog presents to his 
 enemy. Few were able to make way through that 
 iron wall ; but of those few was Dunois, who, 
 giving spur to his horse, and making the noble 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 335 
 
 animal leap more than twelve feet at a bound, fairly 
 broke his way into the middle of the phalanx, and 
 made towards the object of his animosity. What 
 was his surprise to find Quentin still by his side, 
 and fighting in the same front with himself youth, 
 desperate courage, and the determination to do or die, 
 having still kept the youth abreast with the best 
 knight in Europe; for such was Dunois reported, 
 and truly reported, at the period. 
 
 Their spears were soon broken; but the lanz- 
 knechts were unable to withstand the blows of 
 their long heavy swords ; while the horses and 
 riders, armed in complete steel, sustained little in- 
 jury from their lances. Still Dunois and Durward 
 were contending with rival efforts to burst forward 
 to the spot where he who had usurped the armo- 
 rial bearings of Dunois was doing the duty of a 
 good and valiant leader, when Dunois, observing 
 the boar's-head and tusks the usual bearing of 
 William de la Marck in another part of the con- 
 flict, called out to Quentin, " Thou art worthy to 
 avenge the arms of Orleans ! I leave thee the task. 
 Balafre', support your nephew ; but let none dare 
 to interfere with Dunois' boar-hunt ! " 
 
 That Quentin Durward joyfully acquiesced in 
 this division of labour cannot be doubted, and each 
 pressed forward upon his separate object, followed, 
 and defended from behind, by such men-at-arms as 
 were able to keep up with them. 
 
 But at this moment the column which De la 
 Marck had proposed to support, when his own 
 course was arrested by the charge of Dunois, had 
 lost all the advantages they had gained during the 
 night ; while the Burgundians, with returning day, 
 had begun to show the qualities which belong to 
 
336 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 superior discipline. The great mass of Liegeois 
 were compelled to retreat, and at length to fly ; 
 and, falling back on those who were engaged with 
 the French men-at-arms, the whole became a con- 
 fused tide of fighters, fliers, and pursuers, which 
 rolled itself towards the city-walls, and at last was 
 poured into the ample and undefended breach 
 through which the Liegeois had sallied. 
 
 Quentin made more than human exertions to over- 
 take the special object of his pursuit, who was still 
 in his sight, striving, by voice and example, to re- 
 new the battle, and bravely supported by a chosen 
 party of lanzknechts. Le Balafre\ and several of 
 his comrades, attached themselves to Quentin, much 
 marvelling at the extraordinary gallantry displayed 
 by so young a soldier. On the very brink of the 
 breach, De la Marck for it was himself suc- 
 ceeded in effecting a momentary stand, and repell- 
 ing some of the most forward of the pursuers. He 
 had a mace of iron in his hand, before which every 
 thing seemed to go down, and was so much covered 
 with blood, that it was almost impossible to discern 
 those bearings on his shield which had so much 
 incensed Dunois. 
 
 Quentin now found little difficulty in singling 
 him out ; for the commanding situation of which 
 he had possessed himself, and the use he made of 
 his terrible mace, caused many of the assailants to 
 seek safer points of attack than that where so des- 
 perate a defender presented himself. But Quentin, 
 to whom the importance attached to victory over 
 this formidable antagonist was better known, sprung 
 from his horse at the bottom of the breach, and, 
 letting the noble animal, the gift of the Duke of 
 Orleans, run loose through the tumult, ascended 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 337 
 
 the ruins to measure swords with the Boar of Ar- 
 dennes. The latter, as if he had seen his inten- 
 tion, turned towards Durward with mace uplifted ; 
 and they were on the point of encounter, when a 
 dreadful shout of triumph, of tumult, and of de- 
 spair, announced that the besiegers were entering 
 the city at another point, and in the rear of those 
 who defended the breach. Assembling around him, 
 by voice and bugle, the desperate partners of his 
 desperate fortune, De la Marck, at those appalling 
 sounds, abandoned the breach, and endeavoured to 
 effect his retreat towards a part of the city from 
 which he might escape to the other side of the Maes. 
 His immediate followers formed a deep body of 
 well-disciplined men, who, never having given quar- 
 ter, were resolved now not to ask it, and who, in 
 that hour of despair, threw themselves into such 
 firm order, that their front occupied the whole 
 breadth of the street, through which they slowly 
 retired, making head from time to time, and check- 
 ing the pursuers, many of whom began to seek a 
 safer occupation, by breaking into the houses for 
 plunder. It is therefore probable that De la Marck 
 might have effected his escape, his disguise conceal- 
 ing him from those who promised themselves to 
 win honour and grandeur upon his head, but for the 
 stanch pursuit of Quentin, his uncle Le Balafre*, 
 and some of his comrades. At every pause which 
 was made by the lanzknechts, a furious combat took 
 place betwixt them and the Archers, and in every 
 melee Quentin sought De la Marck ; but the latter, 
 whose present object was to retreat, seemed to evade 
 the young Scot's purpose of bringing him to single 
 combat. The confusion was general in every direc- 
 tion. The shrieks and cries of women, the yelling 
 
 vol. ii. 28 
 
338 QUENTIN DUKVVARD. 
 
 of the terrified inhabitants, now subjected to the 
 extremity of military license, sounded horribly 
 shrill amid the shouts of battle, like the voice of 
 misery and despair contending with that of fury 
 and violence, which should be heard farthest and 
 loudest. 
 
 It was just when De la Marck, retiring through 
 this infernal scene, had passed the door of a small 
 chapel of peculiar sanctity, that the shouts of 
 " France ! France ! Burgundy ! Burgundy ! " ap- 
 prized him that a part of the besiegers were enter- 
 ing the farther end of the street, which was a 
 narrow one, and that his retreat was cut off. 
 " Conrade," he said, " take all the men with you 
 Charge yonder fellows roundly, and break through 
 if you can with me it is over. I am man enough, 
 now that I am brought to bay, to send some of 
 these vagabond Scots to hell before me." 
 
 His lieutenant obeyed, and, with most of the few 
 lanzknechts who remained alive, hurried to the far- 
 ther end of the street, for the purpose of charging 
 those Burgundians who were advancing, and so 
 forcing their way, so as to escape. About six of 
 De la Marck's best men remained to perish with 
 their master, and fronted the Archers, who were 
 not many more in number. " Sanglier ! Sanglier t 
 Hola ! gentlemen of Scotland," said the ruffian but 
 undaunted chief, waving his mace, " who longs to 
 gain a coronet, who strikes at the Boar of Ar- 
 dennes ? You, young man, have, methinks, a 
 hankering ; but you must win ere you wear it." 
 
 Quentin heard but imperfectly the words, which 
 were partly lost in the hollow helmet ; but the action 
 could not be mistaken, and he had but time to bid 
 his uncle and comrades, as they were gentlemen, 
 
QUENTIN DURWAIID. . 339 
 
 to stand back, when De la Marck sprung upon him 
 with a bound like a tiger, aiming at the same time 
 a blow with his mace, so as to make his hand and 
 foot keep time together, and giving his stroke full 
 advantage of the descent of his leap ; but, light of 
 foot and quick of eye, Quentin leaped aside, and 
 disappointed an aim which would have been fatal 
 had it taken effect. 
 
 They then closed, like the wolf and the wolf-dog, 
 their comrades on either side remaining inactive 
 spectators, for Le Balafre' roared out for fair play, 
 adding, " that he would venture his nephew on him, 
 were he as wight as Wallace." 
 
 Neither was the experienced soldier's confidence 
 unjustified ; for, although the blows of the despair- 
 ing robber fell like those of the hammer on the 
 anvil, yet the quick motions, and dexterous sword- 
 manship of the young Archer, enabled him to 
 escape, and to requite them with the point of his 
 less noisy, though more fatal weapon ; and that so 
 often and so effectually, that the huge strength of 
 his antagonist began to give way to fatigue, while 
 the ground on which he stood became a puddle of 
 blood. Yet, still unabated in courage and ire, the 
 wild Boar of Ardennes fought on with as much 
 mental energy as at first, and Quentin's victory 
 seemed dubious and distant, when a female voice 
 behind him called him by his name, ejaculating, 
 " Help ! help ! for the sake of the blessed Virgin ! " 
 
 He turned his head, and with a single glance 
 beheld Gertrude Pavilion, her mantle stripped from 
 her shoulders, dragged forcibly along by a French 
 soldier; one of several, who, breaking into the 
 chapel close by, had seized, as their prey, on the 
 terrified females who had taken refuge there. 
 
340 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 "Wait for me but one moment," exclaimed 
 Quentin to De la Marck, and sprung to extricate 
 his benefactress from a situation of which he con- 
 jectured all the dangers. 
 
 "I wait no man's pleasure," said De la Marck, 
 flourishing his mace, and beginning to retreat 
 glad, no doubt, of being free of so formidable an 
 assailant. 
 
 "You shall wait mine, though, by your leave," 
 said Balafre' ; " I will not have my nephew baulked." 
 So saying, he instantly assaulted De la Marck 
 with his two-handed sword. 
 
 Quentin found, in the meanwhile, that the rescue 
 of Gertrude was a task more difficult than could be 
 finished in one moment. Her captor, supported 
 by his comrades, refused to relinquish his prize; 
 and whilst Durward, aided by one or two of his 
 countrymen, endeavoured to compel him to do so, 
 the former beheld the chance which Fortune had 
 so kindly afforded him for fortune and happiness; 
 glide out of his reach; so that when he stood at 
 length in the street with the liberated Gertrude, 
 there was no one near them. Totally forgetting 
 the defenceless situation of his companion, he was 
 about to spring away in pursuit of the Boar of 
 Ardennes, as the greyhound tracks the deer, when, 
 clinging to him in her despair, she exclaimed, 
 " For the sake of your mother's honour, leave me 
 not here ! As you are a gentleman, protect me 
 to my father's house, which once sheltered you 
 and the Lady Isabelle ! For her sake leave me 
 not!" 
 
 Her call was agonizing, but it was irresistible 
 and bidding a mental adieu, with unutterable bit- 
 terness of feeling, to all the gay hopes which had 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 341 
 
 stimulated his exertion, carried him through that 
 bloody day, and which at one moment seemed to 
 approach consummation, Quentin, like an unwilling 
 spirit, who obeys a talisman which he cannot resist, 
 protected Gertrude to Pavilion's house, and ar- 
 rived in time to defend that and the Syndic himself 
 against the fury of the licentious soldiery. 
 
 Meantime, the King and the Duke of Burgundy 
 entered the city on horseback, and through one of 
 the breaches. They were both in complete armour, 
 but the latter covered with blood from the plume 
 to the spur, drove his steed furiously up the breach, 
 which Louis surmounted with the stately pace of 
 one who leads a procession. They dispatched orders 
 to stop the sack of the city, which had already com- 
 menced, and to assemble their scattered troops. 
 The princes themselves proceeded towards the 
 great church, both for the protection of many 
 of the distinguished inhabitants, who had taken re- 
 fuge there, and in order to hold a sort of military 
 council after they had heard High Mass. 
 
 Busied like other officers of his rank in collecting 
 those under his command, Lord Crawford, at the 
 turning of one of the streets which leads to the Maes, 
 met Le Balafre' sauntering composedly towards the 
 river, holding in his hand, by the gory locks, a hu- 
 man head, with as much indifference as a fowler 
 carries a game-pouch. 
 
 " How now, Ludovic ! " said his commander ; 
 " what are ye doing with that carrion ? " 
 
 " It is all that is left of a bit of work which my 
 nephew shaped out, and nearly finished, and I put 
 the last hand to," said Le Balafre' "a good fellow 
 that I dispatched yonder, and who prayed me to 
 throw his head into the Maes. Men have queer 
 
342 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 fancies when old Small-Back 1 is gripping them, 
 but Small-Back must lead down the dance with us 
 all in our time." 
 
 " And you are going to throw that head into the 
 Maes ? " said Crawford, looking more attentively on 
 the ghastly memorial of mortality. 
 
 " Ay, truly am I," said Ludovic Lesly. " If you 
 refuse a dying man his boon, you are likely to be 
 haunted by his ghost, and I love to sleep sound at 
 nights." 
 
 " You must take your chance of the ghaist, man," 
 said Crawford ; " for, by my soul, there is more 
 lies on that' dead pow than you think for. Come 
 along with me not a word more Come along 
 with me." 
 
 " Nay, for that matter," said Le Balafr, " I made 
 him no promise ; for, in truth, I had off his head 
 before the tongue had well done wagging ; and as I 
 feared him not living, by Saint Martin of Tours, I 
 fear him as little when he is dead. Besides, my 
 little gossip, the merry Friar of St. Martin's, will 
 lend me a pot of holy water." 
 
 When High Mass had been said in the Cathe- 
 dral Church of Liege, and the terrified town was 
 restored to some moderate degree of order, Louis 
 and Charles, with their peers around, proceeded 
 to hear the claims of those who had any to make 
 for services performed during the battle. Those 
 which respected the County of Croye and its fair 
 mistress were first received, and, to the disappoint- 
 ment of sundry claimants who had thought them- 
 selves sure of the rich prize, there seemed doubt 
 and mystery to involve their several pretensions. 
 
 1 A cant expression in Scotland for Death, usually delineated 
 as a skeleton. 
 
QUENTIN DURWAKD. 343 
 
 Crevecoeur showed a boar's hide such as De la 
 Marck usually wore; Dunois produced a cloven 
 shield, with his armorial bearings ; and there were 
 others, who claimed the merit of having dispatched 
 the murderer of the Bishop, producing similar tokens 
 the rich reward fixed on De la Marck's head hav- 
 ing brought death to all who were armed in his 
 resemblance. 
 
 There was much noise and contest among the 
 (5pmpetitors, and Charles, internally regretting the 
 rash promise which had placed the hand and wealth 
 of his fair vassal on such a hazard, was in hopes 
 he might find means of evading all these conflict- 
 ing claims, when Crawford pressed forward into 
 the circle, dragging Le Balafre* after him, who, awk- 
 ward and bashful, followed like an unwilling mas- 
 tiff towed on in a leash, as his leader exclaimed, 
 " Away with your hoofs and hides, and painted 
 iron ! No one, save he who slew the Boar, can 
 show the tusks ! " 
 
 So saying, he flung on the floor the bloody head, 
 easily known as that of De la Marck, by the singu- 
 lar conformation of the jaws, which in reality had 
 a certain resemblance to those of the animal whose 
 name he bore, and which was instantly recognised 
 by all who had seen him. 1 
 
 1 We have already noticed the anachronism respecting the 
 crimes of this atrocious baron ; and it is scarce necessary to re- 
 peat, that if he in reality murdered the Bishop of Liege in 1482, 
 the Count of La Marck could not be slain in the defence of Liege 
 four years earlier. In fact, the Wild Boar of Ardennes, as he was 
 usually termed, was of high birth, being the third son of John I., 
 Count of La Marck and Aremberg, and ancestor of the branch 
 called Batons of Lumain. He did not escape the punishment due 
 to his atrocity, though it did not take place at the time, or in the 
 manner, narrated in the text. Maximilian, Emperor of Austria, 
 
344 QUENTIN DuRWARD. 
 
 "Crawford," said Louis, while Charles sat silent 
 in gloomy and displeased surprise, " I trust it is one 
 of my faithful Scots who has won this prize ? " 
 
 "It is Ludovic Lesly, Sire, whom we call Le 
 BalafreV' replied the old soldier. 
 
 " But is he noble ? " said the Duke ; " is he of 
 gentle blood ? otherwise our promise is void." 
 
 " He is a cross ungainly piece of wood enough," 
 said Crawford, looking at the tall, awkward, em- 
 barrassed figure of the Archer ; " but I will war- 
 rant him a branch of the tree of Eothes for all 
 that and they have been as noble as any house in 
 France or Burgundy, ever since it is told of their 
 founder, that 
 
 ' Between the less-lee 1 and the mair, 
 
 He slew the Knight, and left him there.' " 
 
 " There is then no help for it," said the Duke, 
 "and the fairest and richest heiress in Burgundy 
 must be the wife of a rude mercenary soldier like 
 this, or die secluded in a convent and she the only 
 child of our faithful Beginald de Croye ! I have 
 been too rash." 
 
 And a cloud settled on his brow, to the surprise 
 of his peers, who seldom saw him evince the slight- 
 est token of regret for the necessary consequences 
 of an adopted resolution. 
 
 " Hold, but an instant," said the Lord Craw- 
 ford, " it may be better than your Grace conjee- 
 caused him to be arrested at Utrecht, where he was beheaded 
 iu the year 1485, three years after the Bishop of Liege's death. 
 
 1 An old rhyme, hy which the Leslies vindicate their descent 
 from an ancient knight, who is said to have slain a gigantic 
 Hungarian champion, and to have formed a proper name for him- 
 self by a play of words upon the place where he fought his 
 adversary. 
 
QUENTIN DURWARD. 345 
 
 tures. Hear but what this cavalier has to say. 
 Speak out, man, and a murrain to thee," he added 
 apart to Le Balafre\ 
 
 But that blunt soldier, though he could make 
 a shift to express himself intelligibly enough to 
 King Louis, to whose familiarity he was habitu- 
 ated, yet found himself incapable of enunciating his 
 resolution before so splendid an assembly as that in 
 presence of which he then stood ; and after having 
 turned his shoulder to the princes, and preluded 
 with a hoarse chuckling laugh, and two or three 
 tremendous contortions of countenance, he was only 
 able to pronounce the words, " Saunders Souple- 
 jaw " and then stuck fast. 
 
 " May it please your Majesty, and your Grace," 
 said Crawford, " I must speak for my countryman 
 and old comrade. You shall understand, that he 
 has had it prophesied to him by a Seer in his own 
 land, that the fortune of his house is to be made 
 by marriage ; but as he is, like myself, something 
 the worse for the wear, loves the wine-house 
 better than a lady's summer-parlour, and, in short, 
 having some barrack tastes and likings, which would 
 make greatness in his own person rather an encum- 
 brance to him, he hath acted by my advice, and 
 resigns the pretensions acquired by the fate of slay- 
 ing William de la Marck, to him by whom the Wild 
 Boar was actually brought to bay, who is his mater- 
 nal nephew." 
 
 " I will vouch for that youth's services and pru- 
 dence," said King Louis, overjoyed to see that fate 
 had thrown so gallant a prize to one over whom he 
 had some influence. " Without his prudence and 
 vigilance, we had been ruined It was he who 
 made us aware of the night-sally." 
 
346 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 ". I then," said Charles, " owe him some repara- 
 tion for doubting his veracity." 
 
 "And I can attest his gallantry as a man-at- 
 arms," said Dunois. 
 
 " But," interrupted Crevecoeur, " though the uncle 
 be a Scottish gentilldtre, that makes not the nephew 
 necessarily so." 
 
 "He is of the House of Durward," said Craw- 
 ford ; " descended from that Allan Durward, who 
 was High Steward of Scotland." 
 
 " Nay, if it be young Durward," said Crevecoeur, 
 " I say no more. Fortune has declared herself on 
 his side too plainly, for me to struggle farther with 
 her humoursome ladyship ; but it is strange, from 
 lord to horseboy, how wonderfully these Scots stick 
 by each other." 
 
 "Highlanders, shoulder to shoulder!" answered 
 Lord Crawford, laughing at the mortification of the 
 proud Burgundian. 
 
 " We have yet to enquire," said Charles, thought- 
 fully, "what the fair lady's sentiments may be 
 towards this fortunate adventurer." 
 
 " By the mass S " said Crevecoeur, " I have but 
 too much reason to believe your Grace will find 
 her more amenable to authority than on former 
 occasions. But why should I grudge this youth 
 his preferment ? since, after all, it is sense, firm- 
 ness, and gallantry, which have put him in pos- 
 session of Wealth, Eank, and Beauty ! " 
 
 I had already sent these sheets to the press, 
 concluding, as I thought, with a moral of excellent 
 tendency for the encouragement of all fair-haired, 
 blue-eyed, long-legged, stout-hearted emigrants from 
 my native country, who might be willing in stirring 
 
QUEN-^IN DURWAKD. 347 
 
 times to take up the gallant profession of Cava- 
 lieros of Fortune. But a friendly monitor, one 
 of those who like the lump of sugar which is 
 found at the bottom of a tea-cup, as well as the 
 flavour of the souchong itself, has entered a bitter 
 remonstrance, and insists that I should give a pre- 
 cise and particular account of the espousals of the 
 young heir of Glen-houlakin and the lovely Flemish 
 Countess, and tell what tournaments were held, and 
 how many lances were broken, upon so interesting 
 an occasion ; nor withhold from the curious reader 
 the number of sturdy boys, who inherited the valour 
 of Quentin Durward, and of bright damsels, in 
 whom were renewed the charms of Isabelle de 
 Croye. I replied in course of post, that times were 
 changed, and public weddings were entirely out of 
 fashion. In days, traces of which I myself can re- 
 member, not only were the " fifteen friends " of the 
 happy pair invited to witness their union, but the 
 bridal minstrelsy still continued, as in the " Ancient 
 Mariner," to " nod their heads " till morning shone 
 on them. The sack-posset was eaten in the nuptial 
 chamber the stocking was thrown and the 
 bride's garter was struggled for in presence of the 
 happy couple whom Hymen had made one flesh. 
 The authors of the period were laudably accurate 
 in following its fashions. They spared you not a 
 blush of the bride, not a rapturous glance of the 
 bridegroom, not a diamond in her hair, not a button 
 on his embroidered waistcoat ; until at length, with 
 Astrsea, (e) " they fairly put their characters to bed." 
 But how little does this agree with the modest 
 privacy which induces our modern brides sweet 
 bashful darlings ! to steal from pomp and plate, 
 
348 QUENTIN DURWARD. 
 
 and admiration and flattery, and, like honest 
 Shenstone, 
 
 " Seek for freedom at an inn ! 
 
 To these, unquestionably, an exposure of the 
 circumstances of publicity with which a bridal in 
 the fifteenth century was always celebrated, must 
 appear in the highest degree disgusting. Isabelle 
 de Croye would be ranked in their estimation far 
 below the maid who milks, and does the meanest 
 chares ; for even she, were it in the church-porch, 
 would reject the hand of her journeyman shoe- 
 maker, should he propose "/aire des noces" as it is 
 called on Parisian signs, instead of going down on 
 the top of the long coach to spend the honeymoon 
 incognito at Deptford or Greenwich. I will not, 
 therefore, tell more of this matter, but will steal 
 away from the wedding as Ariosto from that of 
 Angelica, leaving it to whom it may please to add 
 farther particulars, after the fashion of their own 
 imagination. 
 
 u Some better bard shall sing, in feudal state 
 How Braquemont's Castle op'd its Gothic gate, 
 When on the wand'ring Scot, its lovely heir 
 Bestow'd her beauty and an earldom fair." 1 
 
 1 " E come a ritornare in sua contrada 
 Trovasse e buon naviglio e miglior tempo 
 E dell' India a Medor desse lo scettro 
 Forse altri cantera con miglior plettro." 
 
 Orlando Fdrioso, Canto XXX. Stanza 16. 
 
AUTHOR'S NOTES. 
 
 Note I., p. 79. Murder op the Bishop op Liege. 
 
 In assigning the present date to the murder of the Bishop 
 of Liege, Louis de Bourbon, history has been violated. It is 
 true that the Bishop was made prisoner by the insurgents of 
 that city. It is also true that the report of the insurrection 
 came to Charles with a rumour that the Bishop was slain, 
 which excited his indignation against Louis, who was then 
 in his power. But these things happened in 1468, and the 
 Bishop's murder did not take place till 1482. In the months 
 of August and September of that year, William de la Marck, 
 called the Wild Boar of Ardennes, entered into a conspiracy 
 with the discontented citizens of Liege against their Bishop, 
 Louis of Bourbon, being aided with considerable sums ol money 
 by the King of France. By this means, and the assistance of 
 many murderers and banditti, who thronged to him as to a 
 leader befitting them, De la Marck assembled a body of troops, 
 whom he dressed in scarlet as a uniform, with a boar's head on 
 the left sleeve. With this little army he approached the city 
 of Liege. Upon this the citizens, who were engaged in the 
 conspiracy, came to their Bishop, and, offering to stand by him 
 to the death, exhorted him to inarch out against these robbers. 
 The Bishop, therefore, put himself at the head of a few troops 
 of his own, trusting to the assistance of the people of Liege. 
 But so soon as they came in sight of the enemy, the citizens, 
 as before agreed, fled from the Bishop's banner, and he was left 
 with his own handful of adherents. At this moment De la 
 Marck charged at the head of his banditti with the expected 
 success. The Bishop was brought before the profligate Knight, 
 who first cut him over the face, then murdered him with his 
 own hand, and caused his body to be exposed naked in the 
 great square of Liege before Saint Lambert's cathedral. 
 
 Such is the actual narrative of a tragedy which struck with 
 horror the people of the time. The murder of the Bishop has 
 
350 AUTHOR'S NOTES. 
 
 been fifteen years antedated in the text, for reasons which the 
 reader of romances will easily appreciate. (/) 
 
 Note II., p. 106. SCHWARZ-REITERS. 
 
 Fynes Morrison describes this species of soldiery as follows : 
 
 " He that at this day looks upon their Schwarz-reiters, (that is. 
 black horsemen, ) must confess, that, to make their horses and boots 
 shine, they make themselves as black as colliers. These horsemen 
 wear black clothes, and poor though they be, spend no small time 
 in brushing them. The most of them have black horses, which, 
 while they painfully dress, and (as I have said) delight to have theii 
 boots and shoes shine with blacking-stuff, their hands and faces 
 become black, and thereof they have their foresaid name. Yet I 
 have heard Germans say, that they do thus make themselves black 
 to seem more terrible to their enemies." Fynes Morrison's 
 Itinerary. Edition 1617, p. 165. 
 
 Note III., p. 131. Philip des Comines. 
 
 Philip des Comines was described in the former editions of 
 this work as a little man, fitted rather for counsel than action. 
 This was a description made at a venture, to vary the military 
 portraits with which the age and work abound. Sleidan the 
 historian, upon the authority of Matthieu d'Arves, who knew 
 Philip des Comines, and had served in his household, says he 
 was a man of tall stature, and a noble presence. The learned 
 Monsieur Petitot, editor of the edition of Memoirs relative to 
 the History of France, a work of great value, intimates that 
 Philip des Comines made a figure at the games of chivalry and 
 pageants exhibited on the wedding of Charles of Burgundy 
 with Margaret of England in 1468. See the Chronicle of 
 Jean de Troyes, in Petitot's edition of the Memoirs Relatifs a 
 I'Histoire de France, vol. xiii. p. 375. Note. I have looked 
 into Oliver de la Marck, who, in lib. ii., chapter iv., of his 
 Memoirs, gives an ample account of these "fierce vanities," 
 containing as many miscellaneous articles as the reticule of the 
 old merchant of Peter Schleml, who bought shadows, and car- 
 ried with him in his bag whatever any one could wish or 
 demand in return. There are in that splendid description, 
 knights, dames, pages, and archers, gpod store besides of castles, 
 fiery dragons, and dromedaries ; there are leopards riding upou 
 
AUTHOR'S NOTES. 351 
 
 lions ; there are rocks, orchards, fountains, spears broken and 
 whole, and the twelve labours of Hercules. In such a brilliant 
 medley I had some trouble in finding Philip des Comines. He 
 is the first named, however, of a gallant band of assailants, 
 knights and noblemen, to the number of twenty, who, with 
 the Prince of Orange as their leader, encountered, in a general 
 tourney, with a party of the same number under the profligate 
 Adolf of Cleves, who acted as challenger, by the romantic title 
 of Arbre oVor. The encounter, though with arms of courtesy, 
 was very fierce, and separated by main force, not without dif- 
 ficulty. Philip des Comines has, therefore, a title to be 
 accounted tarn Marte qmm Mercurio, though, when we con- 
 sider the obscurity which has settled on the rest of this troupe 
 doree, we are at no loss to estimate the most valuable of his 
 qualifications. 
 
 Note IV., p. 133. Meeting of Louis and Charles after 
 the Battle of Montl'hery. 
 
 After the battle of Montl'hery, in 1465, Charles, then Compte de 
 Charalois, had an interview with Louis under the walls of Paris, 
 each at the head of a small party. The two princes dismounted, 
 and walked together so deeply engaged in discussing the business of 
 their meeting, that Charles forgot the peculiarity of his situation ; 
 and when Louis turned back towards the town of Paris, from which 
 he came, the Count of Charalois kept him company so far as to pass 
 the line of outworks with which Paris was surrounded, and enter a 
 field-work which communicated with the town by a trench. At this 
 period he had only five or six persons in company with him. His 
 escort caught an alarm for his safety, and his principal followers rode 
 forward from where he had left them, remembering that his grand- 
 father had been assassinated at Montereau in a similar parley, on 
 10th September, 1419. To their great joy the Count returned 
 uninjured, accompanied with a guard belonging to Louis. The 
 Burgundians taxed him with rashness in no measured terms. " Say 
 no more of it," said Charles ; " I acknowledge the extent of my 
 folly, but 1 was not aware what I was doing till I entered the 
 redoubt." Memoires de Philippe des Comines, chap. xiii. 
 
 Louis was much praised for his good faith on this occasion : 
 and it was natural that the Duke should call it to recollection 
 when his enemy so unexpectedly put himself in his power by 
 his visit to Peronne. 
 
352 AUTHOR'S NOTES. 
 
 Note V., p. 183. 
 
 The historical facts attending this celebrated interview, are 
 expounded and enlarged upon in Chapter X. Agents sent 
 by Louis had tempted the people of Liege to rebel against 
 their superior, Duke Charles, and persecute and murder their 
 Bishop. But Louis was not prepared for their acting with such 
 promptitude. They flew to arms with the temerity of a fickle 
 rabble, took the Bishop prisoner, menaced and insulted him, 
 and tore to pieces one or two of his canons. This news was 
 sent to the Duke of Burgundy at the moment when Louis had 
 so unguardedly placed himself in his power ; and the con- 
 sequence was, that Charles placed guards on the Castle of 
 Peronne, and, deeply resenting the treachery of the King of 
 France in exciting sedition in his dominions, while he pre- 
 tended the most intimate friendship, he deliberated whether 
 he should not put Louis to death. 
 
 Three days Louis was detained in this very precarious situ- 
 ation ; and it was only his profuse liberality amongst Charles's 
 favourites and courtiers which finally ensured him from death 
 or deposition. Comines, who was the Duke of Burgundy's 
 chamberlain at the time, and slept in his apartment, says, 
 Charles neither undressed nor slept, but flung himself from 
 time to time on the bed, and, at other times, wildly traversed 
 + ,he apartment. It was long before his violent temper became 
 in any degree tractable. At length he only agreed to give 
 Louis his liberty, on condition of his accompanying him in 
 person against, and employing his troops in subduing, the 
 mutineers whom his intrigues had instigated to arms. 
 
 This was a bitter and degrading alternative. But Louis, 
 seeing no other mode of compounding for the effects of his 
 rashness, not only submitted to this discreditable condition, 
 but swore to it upon a crucifix said to have belonged to Charle- 
 magne. These particulars are from Comines. There is a 
 succinct epitome of them in Sir Nathaniel Wraxall's History 
 of France, vol. i. 
 
 Note VI., p. 195. Prayer op Louis XI. 
 
 While I perused these passages in the old manuscript chro- 
 nicle, I could not help feeling astonished that an intellect acute 
 as that of Louis XL certainly was, could so delude itself by 
 
AUTHOR'S NOTES. 353 
 
 a sort of superstition, of which one would think the stupidest 
 savages incapable ; but the terms of the King's prayer, on a 
 similar occasion, as preserved by Brantome, are of a tenor fully 
 as extraordinary. It is that which, being overheard by a fool 
 or jester, was by him made public, and let in light on an act 
 of fratricide, which might never have been suspected. The 
 way in which the story is narrated by the corrupted courtier, 
 who could jest with all that is criminal as well as with all that 
 is profligate, is worthy the reader's notice ; for such actions 
 are seldom done where there are not men with hearts of the 
 nether millstone, capable and willing to make them matters of 
 laughter. 
 
 ** Among the numerous good tricks of dissimulation, feints, and 
 finesses of gallantry, which the good King (Louis XL) did in his 
 time, he put to death his brother, the Duke de Guyenne, at the 
 moment when the Duke least thought of such a thing, and while the 
 King was making the greatest show of love to him during his life, 
 and of affection for him at his death, managing the whole concern 
 with so much art, that it would never have been known had not 
 " the King taken into his own service a fool who had belonged to his 
 deceased brother. But it chanced that Louis, being engaged in his 
 devout prayers and orisons at the high altar of our Lady of Clery, 
 whom he called his good patroness, and no person nigh except this 
 fool, who, without his knowledge, was within earshot, he thus gave 
 vent to his pious homilies : 
 
 " ' Ah, my good Lady, my gentle mistress, my only friend, in 
 whom alone I have resource, I pray you to supplicate God in my 
 behalf, and to be my advocate with him that he may pardon me 
 the death of my brother whom I caused to be poisoned by that 
 wicked Abbot of Saint John. I confess my guilt to thee as to my 
 good patroness and mistress. But then what could I do ? he was 
 perpetually causing disorder in my kingdom. Cause me then to be 
 pardoned, my good Lady, and I know what a reward I will give 
 thee.' " 
 
 This singular confession did not escape the jester, who 
 upbraided the King with the fratricide in the face of the whole 
 company at dinner, which Louis was fain to let pass without 
 observation, in case of increasing the slander. 
 
 Note VII., p. 213. Martius Qaleotti. 
 The death of Martius Qaleotti was in some degree connected 
 with Louis XI. The astrologer was at Lyons, and hearing that 
 vol. 11. 23 
 
354 AUTHOR'S NOTES. 
 
 the King was approaching the city, got on horseback m ordei 
 to meet him. As he threw himself hastily from his horse to 
 pay his respects to the King, he fell with a violence which, 
 joined to his extreme corpulence, was the cause of his death in 
 1478. 
 
 But the acute and ready-witted expedient to escape instant 
 death, had no reference to the history of this philosopher. 
 The same, or nearly the same story, is told of Tiberius, who 
 demanded of a soothsayer, Thrasullus, if he knew the day of his 
 own death, and received for answer, it would take place just 
 three days before that of the Emperor. On this reply, instead 
 of being thrown over the rocks into the sea, as had been the 
 tyrant's first intention, he was taken great care of for the rest 
 of his life. Taciti Annal. lib. vi. cap. 22. 
 
 The circumstances in which Louis XI. received a similar 
 reply from an astrologer are as follow : The soothsayer in 
 question had presaged that a female favourite, to whom the 
 King was very much attached, should die in a week. As he 
 proved a true prophet, the King was as much incensed as if 
 the astrologer could have prevented the evil he predicted. He 
 sent for the philosopher, and had a party stationed to assassi- 
 nate him as he retired from the royal presence. Being asked 
 by the King concerning his own fortunes, he confessed that hn 
 perceived signs of some imminent danger. Being farther ques- 
 tioned concerning the day of his own death, he was shrewd 
 enough to answer with composure, that it would be exactly 
 three days before that of his Majesty. There was, of course, 
 care taken that he should escape his destined fate ; and he was 
 ever after much protected by the King, as a man of real science, 
 and intimately connected with the royal destinies. 
 
 Although almost all the historians of Louis represent him 
 as a dupe to the common but splendid imposture of judicial 
 astrology, yet his credulity could not be deep-rooted, if the 
 following anecdote, reported by Bayle, be correct. 
 
 Upon one occasion, Louis intending to hunt, and doubtful of 
 the weather, enquired of an astrologer near his person whether 
 it would be fair. The sage, having recourse to his astrolabe, 
 answered with confidence in the affirmative. At the entrance 
 of the forest the royal cortege was met by a charcoalman, who 
 expressed to some menials of the train his surprise that the 
 King should have thought of hunting in a day which threat- 
 ened tempest. The collier's prediction proved true. The King 
 
AUTHOU'S NOTES. 355 
 
 and his court were driven from their sport well drenched ; and 
 Louis, having heard what the collier had said, ordered the man 
 before him. " How were you more accurate in foretelling the 
 weather, my friend," said he, " than this learned man V* 
 M I am an ignorant man, Sire," answered the collier, " was 
 never at school, and cannot read or write. But* I have an 
 astrologer of my own, who shall foretell weather with any of 
 them. It is, with reverence, the ass who carries my charcoal, 
 who always, when bad weather is approaching, points forward 
 his ears, walks more slowly than usual, and tries to rub him- 
 self against walls ; and it was from these signs that I foretold 
 yesterday's storm." The King burst into a fit of laughing, 
 dismissed the astrological biped, and assigned the collier a 
 small pension to maintain the quadruped, swearing he would 
 never in future trust to any other astrologer than the charcoal- 
 man's ass. 
 
 But if there is any truth in this story, the credulity of Louis 
 was not of a nature to be removed by the failure there men- 
 tioned. He is said to have believed in the prediction of Angelo 
 Cattho, his physician, and the friend of Comines, who foretold 
 the death of Charles of Burgundy in the very time and hour 
 when it took place at the battle of Morat. Upon this assu- 
 rance, Louis vowed a silver screen to the shrine of Saint Martin, 
 which he afterwards fulfilled at the expense of one hundred 
 thousand francs. It is well known, besides, that he was the 
 abject and devoted slave of his physicians. Coctier, or Cottier, 
 one of their number, besides the retaining fee of ten thousand 
 crowns, extorted from his royal patient great sums in lands 
 and money, and, in addition to all, the Bishopric of Amiens 
 for his nephew. He maintained over Louis unbounded in- 
 fluence, by using to him the most disrespectful harshness and 
 insolence. " I know," he said to the suffering King, " that 
 one morning you will turn me adrift like so many others. 
 But, by Heaven, you had better beware, for you will not live 
 eight days after you have done so ! " It is unnecessary to dwell 
 longer on the fears and superstitions of a prince, -whom the 
 wretched love of life induced to submit to such indignities. 
 
 Note VIII., p. 245. 
 There is little doubt that, during the interesting scene at 
 Peronne, Philip des Comines first learned intimately to know 
 
356 AUTHOR'S NOTES. 
 
 the great powers of mind of Louis XI. , by which he was so 
 much dazzled that it is impossible, in reading his Memoirs, not 
 to be sensible that he was blinded by them to the more odious 
 shades of his character. He entertained from this time forward 
 a partiality to France. The historian passed into France about 
 1472, and rose high in the good graces of Louis XL He after- 
 wards became the proprietor of the Lordship of Argenton and 
 others, a title which was given him by anticipation in the 
 former editions of this work. He did not obtain it till he was 
 in the French service. After the death of Louis, Philip des 
 Comines fell under the suspicion of the daughter of Louis, called 
 our Lady of Beaujeu, as too zealous a partisan of the rival 
 House of Orleans. The historian himself was imprisoned for 
 eight months in one of the iron cages which he has so forcibly 
 described. It was there that he regretted the fate of a court 
 life. " I have ventured on the great ocean," he said, in his 
 affliction, "and the waves have devoured me." He was sub- 
 jected to a trial, and exiled from court for some years by the 
 Parliament of Paris, being found guilty of holding intercourse 
 with disaffected persons. He survived this cloud, however, 
 and was afterwards employed by Charles VIII. in one or two 
 important missions, where talents were required. Louis XII. 
 also transferred his favour to the historian, but did not employ 
 him. He died at his Castle of Argenton, in 1509, and was 
 regretted as one of the n?^t profound statesmen, and certainly 
 the best historian of his age. In a poem to his memory by the 
 poet Ronsard, he received the distinguished praise that he was 
 the first to show the lustre which valour and noble blood derived 
 from being united with learning. 
 
 Note IX., p. 285. Disguised Herald. 
 
 The heralds of the middle ages, like the feciales of the 
 Romans, were invested with a character which was held almost 
 sacred. To strike a herald was a crime which inferred a cap- 
 ital punishment ; and to counterfeit the character of such an 
 august official was a degree of treason towards those men who 
 were accounted the depositaries of the secrets of monarchs and 
 the honour of nobles. Yet a prince so unscrupulous as Louis 
 XI. did not hesitate to practise such an imposition, when he 
 wished to enter into communication with Edward IV. of 
 England. 
 
AUTHOR'S NOTES. 357 
 
 Exercising that knowledge of mankind for which he was so 
 eminent, he selected; as an agent fit for his purpose, a simple 
 valet This man, whose address had been known to him, he 
 disguised as a herald, with all the insignia of his office, and 
 sent him in that capacity to open a. communication with the 
 English army. Two things are remarkable in this transaction. 
 First, that the stratagem, though of so fraudulent a nature, does 
 not seem to have been necessarily called for, since all that King 
 Louis could gain by it would be, that he did not commit 
 himself by sending a more responsible messenger. The other 
 circumstance worthy of notice, is, that Comines, though he 
 mentions the affair at great length, is so pleased with the 
 King's shrewdness in selecting, and dexterity at indoctrinating, 
 his pseudo-herald, that he forgets all remark on the impudence 
 and fraud of the imposition, as well as the great risk of discov- 
 ery. From both which circumstances, we are led to the 
 conclusion, that the solemn character which the heralds 
 endeavoured to arrogate to themselves, had already begun to 
 lose regard among statesmen and men of the great world. 
 
 Even Feme, zealous enough for the dignity of the herald, 
 seems to impute this intrusion on their rights in some degree 
 to necessity. " I have heard some," he says, " but with shame 
 enough, allow of the action of Louis XI. of the kingdom of 
 France, who had so unknightly a regard both of his own hon- 
 our, and also of armes, that he seloV a had about his court 
 any officer-at-armes. And therefore, at such time as Edward 
 IV., King of England, had entered France with a hostile 
 power, and lay before the town of Saint Quentin, the same 
 French King, for want of a herald to carry his mind to the 
 English King, was constrained to suborn a vadelict, or com- 
 mon serving-man, with a trumpet-banner, having a hole made 
 through the middest for this preposterous herauld to put his 
 head through, and to cast it over his shoulders instead of a 
 better coat-armour of France. And thus came this hast- 
 ily-arrayed courier as a counterfeit officer-at-armes, with 
 instructions from his sovereign's mouth to offer peace to our 
 King. * Well, 1 replies Torquatus, the other interlocutor in the 
 dialogue, *that fault was never yet to be seen in any of our 
 English Kings, nor ever shall be, I hope.' " Ferne's Blazen 
 of Gentry, 1586, p. 161. 
 
 In this curious book, the author, besides some assertions in 
 favour of coat-armour, too nearly approaching blasphemy to be 
 
358 AUTHOR'S NOTES. 
 
 quoted, informs us, that the Apostles were gentlemen of blood, 
 and many of them descended from that worthy conqueror, 
 Judas Maccabseus ; but through the course of time and perse- 
 cution of wars, poverty oppressed the kindred, and they were 
 constrained to servile works. So were the four doctors and 
 fathers of the church (Ambrose, Augustine, Hierome, and 
 Gregorie) gentlemen both of blood and arms, p. 98. The 
 author's copy of this rare tract (memorial of a hopeful young 
 friend, now no more) exhibits a curious sally of the national 
 and professional irritability of a Scottish herald. 
 
 This person appears to have been named Thomas Drysdale, 
 Islay Herald, who purchased the volume in 1619, and seems to 
 have perused it with patience and profit till he came to the 
 following passage in Feme, which enters into the distinction 
 between sovereign and feudatory crowns. lt There is also a 
 King, and he a homager, or foedatorie to the estate and majestie 
 of another King, as to his superior lord, as that of Scotland to 
 our English empire." This assertion set on fire the Scottish 
 blood of Islay Herald, who, forgetting the book had been 
 printed nearly forty years before, and that the author was prob- 
 ably dead, writes on the margin in great wrath, and in a half 
 text hand, " He is a traitor and lyar in his throat, and I offer 
 him the combat, that says Scotland's Kings were ever feudatorie to 
 England.'* 
 
 Note X., p. 326. Attack upon Liege. 
 
 The Duke of Burgundy, full of resentment for the usage 
 which the Bishop had received from the people of Liege, 
 (whose death, as already noticed, did not take place for some 
 years after,) and. knowing that the walls of the town had not 
 been repaired since they were breached by himself after the 
 battle of Saint Tron, advanced recklessly to their chastisement. 
 His commanders shared his presumptuous confidence ; for the 
 advanced guard of his army, under the Marechal of Burgundy 
 and Seigneur D'Hymbercourt, rushed upon one of the suburbs, 
 without waiting for the rest of their army, which, commanded 
 by the Duke in person, remained about seven or eight leagues 
 in the rear. The night was closing, and, as the Burgundian 
 troops observed no discipline, they were exposed to a sudden 
 attack from a party of the citizens commanded by Jean de Vilde, 
 who, assaulting them in front and rear, threw them into great 
 
AUTHOR'S NOTES. 359 
 
 % 
 disorder, and killed more than eight hundred men, of whom 
 one hundred were men-at-arms. 
 
 When Charles and the King of France came up, they took 
 up their quarters in two villas situated near to the wall of the 
 city. In the two or three days which followed, Louis was dis- 
 tinguished for the quiet and regulated composure with which 
 he pressed the siege, and provided for defence in case of sallies ; 
 while the Duke of Burgundy, no way deficient in courage, and 
 who showed the rashness and want of order which was his 
 principal characteristic, seemed also extremely suspicious that 
 the King would desert him and join with the Liegeois. 
 
 They lay before the town for five or six days, and at length 
 fixed the 30th of October, 1468, for a general storm. The cit- 
 izens, who had probably information of their intent, resolved 
 to prevent their purpose, and determined on anticipating it by 
 a desperate sally through the breaches in their walls. They 
 placed at their head six hundred of the men of the little terri- 
 tory of Franchemont, belonging to the Bishopric of Liege, and 
 reckoned the most valiant of their troops. They burst out. 
 of the town on a sudden, surprised the Duke of Burgundy's 
 quarters ere his guards could put on their armour, which they 
 had laid off to enjoy some repose before the assault. The 
 King of France's lodgings were also attacked and endangered. 
 A great confusion ensued, augmented incalculably by the 
 mutual jealousy and suspicions of the French and Burgundians. 
 The people of Liege were, however, unable to maintain their 
 hardy enterprise, when the men-at-arms of the King and Duke 
 began to recover from their confusion, and were finally forced 
 to retire within their walls, after narrowly missing the chance 
 of surprising both King Louis and the Duke of Burgundy, the 
 most powerful Princes of their time. At daybreak the storm 
 took place, as had been originally intended, and the citizens, 
 disheartened and fatigued by the nocturnal sally, did not make 
 so much resistance as was expected. Liege was taken, anil 
 miserably pillaged, without regard to sex or age, things sacred 
 or things profane. These particulars are fully related by Com- 
 ines in his Memoirs, liv. ii. chap. 11, 12, 13, and do not differ 
 much from the account of the same events in Chapters XVIII. 
 and XIX. 
 
EDITOR'S NOTES. 
 
 (a) p. 98. " A poet of my own land." The celebrated 
 lines quoted are from Barbour's " Bruce." 
 
 (b) p. 147. " I wished for the constable's head' 1 This is an 
 historical jest reported by Commines. " Le Roy dit qu'il avoit 
 bien besongne d'une telle teste, comme la sienne. . . . Je n'enten 
 point que nous eussions le corps, mais j'enten que nous eussions 
 la teste, et que le corps furt demoure la." (Commines, iv. ii.) 
 
 (c) p. 194. " Sweet Lady of Clery." Brantome, no very 
 good authority, tells the famous tale of Louis's prayer, overheard 
 by the Jester si fol, fat, sot, that Louis never suspected him of 
 listening. " More than fifty years ago," says Brantome, " when 
 I was a boy at College in Paris, I heard this story from an old 
 canon there, who was nearly eighty ; the tale had descended 
 from canon to canon." Brantome quotes the " Annales de 
 Bouchet" for the evil end of the Abbe" de St. Jean, whom 
 Louis employe^ as a poisoner. 
 
 (d) p. 285. disguised herald." This incident is reported 
 by Commines, iv. 7. The varlet prayed on his knees that he 
 might not be sent in the disguise. A dress of a sort was bor- 
 rowed from " a little herald," called Plein-chemin, " the trumpet 
 banner" was also used, as described by Feme. The envoy 
 was perfectly successful. 
 
 (e) p. 347. " Astraea." The reference is to the plays of 
 Mrs. Aphra Behn * ' The stage how loosely doth Astraea 
 tread, Who fairly puts each character to bed." 
 
 (/) P- 350. Revolt of Liege. See Commines, ii. 5, on the 
 King's stirring up the Liegeois, the year after Charles had 
 destroyed their walls, and at the very time when Louis was 
 about to meet Charles at Peronne. The Liegeois, meanwhile, 
 took Tongres, and captured the Bishop ; they killed five or six 
 Canons, in the Bishop's presence, and tossed about the mangled 
 limbs. (Commines, ii. 7.) When Charles heard of this, he, 
 not unnaturally, fell into a passion, closed the gates of Peronne, 
 
362 EDITOR'S NOTES. 
 
 pretending that he did so for the purpose of apprehending a 
 thief who had stolen some jewels, and lodged the King in 
 the tower where a Count of Vermandois had slain Charles the 
 Simple. Commines, who slept in Charles's chamber, believes 
 that had indiscreet counsellors been with the Duke he would 
 have slain f Louis. After days of passion, described in the 
 novel, peace was sworn on a portion of the u True Cross of 
 Saint Charlemagne," and Louis promised to march with Charles 
 against Liege. Except for the incident of Quentin Durward 
 and the Countess of Croye, all this part of the tale follows 
 history closely, allowing for the anticipation of the Bishop's 
 murder. 
 
 Andrew Lang. 
 November 1893. 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 AsboU, to acquit, to pardon. 
 
 "Ban and Arriere-Ban," the 
 
 entire feudal force. 
 Bavaroise, tea sweetened with 
 
 capillaire. 
 Blate, bashful, stupid. 
 Bottrine, a small leather flask. 
 Brach, a hound. 
 Braw, brave. 
 Braw-warld, showy, gaudy. 
 
 Callant, a boy, a stripling. 
 
 Cast, an example, a specimen. 
 
 Chare, household work. 
 
 Chield, a fellow. 
 
 Cocagne, an imaginary coun- 
 try. 
 
 " Colin Maillard, " blind-man's- 
 buff. 
 
 Combust, an astrological term 
 for a planet that is too near 
 the sun. 
 
 Culverin, an ancient small can- 
 non. 
 
 Curney, a small number. 
 
 Dafflng, loose talk. 
 
 Darioles, pastry cakes containing 
 
 cream. 
 Demi-solde, half-pay. 
 Doddered, covered with twining 
 
 parasites. 
 Duffle, a coarse woollen cloth. 
 Dyes, toys, gewgaws. 
 
 Ephemerides, an astronomical 
 
 almanac. 
 Ethnic, pagan. 
 
 Faltour, a traitor, a rascal. 
 Frampold, unruly, peevish. 
 
 Gear, affair. 
 Ghaist, a ghost. 
 Guilder, a gold coin. 
 
 Halidome, honour. 
 
 Hanap, an old word for cup. 
 
 Handsel, a gift. 
 
 Hawk-purse, a bag worn by a 
 falconer. 
 
 " Henri Quatre coat," a tight- 
 fitting garment terminating 
 just below the waist. 
 
 M Hermetical philosophy," a sys- 
 tem ascribed to Hermes Tris- 
 megistus, i.e., the god Thoth, 
 the traditional author of Egyp- 
 tian culture. 
 
 " Hors de page, to be," to have 
 finished serving one's appren- 
 ticeship as a page. 
 
 Hk, each. 
 
 Ken, to know. 
 
 " Knight without fear and re- 
 proach " the Chevalier Bay- 
 ard. 
 
 Lire, a pint. 
 List, to please. 
 Loom, an article. 
 Lurdane, a blockhead. 
 
 Malapert, impertinent. 
 
 Meikle, much. 
 
 Mell, to meddle, to join in battle. 
 
3^4 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 ! 
 
 Minting, aiming. 
 Mumble, to chew gently. 
 
 Partisan, a pike. 
 Pasques-Dieu, the favourite oath 
 
 of Louis XI. 
 Poll, shave, pillage. 
 Poortith, poverty. 
 Pow, the head. 
 
 Quack-salving, 
 quackery. 
 
 pertaining to 
 
 Rake-helly, dissolute. 
 Rocket, a loose frock. 
 Rouse, a draught. 
 Runagate, a fugitive, an outlaw. 
 
 Saker, a piece of light artil- 
 lery. 
 
 M Saus and braus," revelry. 
 
 Shool, a shovel. 
 
 Souter, a cobbler. 
 
 " Stave and tail " in bear-bait- 
 ing, " Stop the sport ! " 
 
 Thrall, a serf. 
 
 Trunk-hose, large breeches 
 reaching to the knee. 
 
 Wassail, ale or wine spiced ; also, 
 
 a festival. 
 Whilly-whaw, to talk in a kindly 
 
 and cajoling way. 
 Wight, strong. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 
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