nd bade all their servants, if
they saw any hinderance thereto, to give them notice thereof, according
to their bounden duty." The treaty was signed by all the men of note
belonging to the houses of both princes; and the crowd which surrounded
them shouted "Noel!" and invoked curses on whosoever should be minded
henceforth to take up arms again in this damnable quarrel. When the
_dauphin_ went away, the duke insisted upon holding his stirrup, and they
parted with every demonstration of amity. The _dauphin_ returned to
Touraine, and the duke to Pontoise, to be near the king, who, by letters
of July 19, confirmed the treaty, enjoined general forgetfulness of the
past, and ordained that "all war should cease, save against the English."

There was universal and sincere joy. The peace fulfilled the
requirements at the same time of the public welfare and of national
feeling; it was the only means of re-establishing order at home, and
driving from the kingdom the foreigner who aspired to conquer it. Only
the friends of the Duke of Orleans, and of the Count of Armagnac, one
assassinated twelve years before, and the other massacred but lately,
remained sad and angry at not having yet been able to obtain either
justice or vengeance; but they maintained reserve and silence. They were
not long in once more finding for mistrust and murmuring grounds or
pretexts which a portion of the public showed a disposition to take up.
The Duke of Burgundy had made haste to publish his ratification of the
treaty of reconciliation; the _dauphin_ had let his wait. The Parisians
were astounded not to see either the _dauphin_ or the Duke of Burgundy
coming back within their walls, and at being, as it were, forgotten and
deserted amidst the universal making-up. They complained that no armed
force was being collected to oppose the English, and that there was an
appearance of flying before them, leaving open to them Paris, in which at
this time there was no captain of renown. They were still more troubled
when, on the 29th of July, they saw the arrival at the St. Denis gate of
a multitude of disconsolate fugitives, some wounded, and others dropping
from hunger, thirst, and fatigue. When they were asked who they were,
and what was the reason of their desperate condition, "We are from
Pontoise," they said; "the English took the town this morning; they
killed or wounded all before them; happy he whosoever could escape from
their hands; never were