ste 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 Countess of
Crevecoeur, 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 reserve
and intrusive boldness, which becomes a youth at once well born and
well nurtured, who gives honour where it is due but without permitting
himself to be dazzled or confused by the presence 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, prepossessed the
councillors 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, considerable 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 commenced 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 wandering knights."

"It does not become me to remember or to proclaim 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 bearing, 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