"Glen-what?" demanded Maitre Pierre; "are | he keeps his own father imprisoned, and that he has you going to raise the devil, that you use such long- even struck him-Can you believe it?" tailed words?"

"Glen-houlakin," answered Quentin, good-humouredly, " 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."

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 fighting. Now, for me, I am of the Douglasses' mind, who always kept the fields, because they loved better 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'hery."

Maitre Pierre seemed somewhat disconcerted with the naïve horror with which the young Scotsman spoke of filial ingratitude, and he answered, "You know not, young man, how short a while the relations of blood subsists among those of elevated rank;" then changed the tone of feeling in which he had begun to speak, and added, gayly, "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; "gray 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 loadstones-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.

"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 Ay, but that was some dozen years ago or more,' midst of a plank, while two others are swinging on answered the youth.-"I should like to follow a mas-the opposite ends."† ter that would keep his honour as bright as his shield, and always venture foremost in the very throng of the battle."

66

'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 "Why did you not tarry at Brussels, then, with that your politic Count of Saint Paul was the first the Duke of Burgundy? He would put you in the who set the example of burning the country during way to have your bones broken every day; and, the time of war? and that before the shameful derather than fail, would do the job for you himself-vastation which he committed, open towns and vilespecially if he heard that you had beaten his fo- lages, which made no resistance, were spared on all rester." sides?" "Very true," said Quentin; "my unhappy chance has shut that door against me."

de

แ

Nay, there are plenty of dare-devils abroad, with mad youngsters may find service," said his "What think you, for example, of William Marck?" What!" exclaimed Durward, serve Him with the ard-serve the wild Boar of Ardennes-a cappillagers and murderers, who would take a life for the value of his gaberdine, and who priests and pilgrims as if they were so many lanc 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 unscrupulous, wherefore not follow the young Duke of Gueldres?"*

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

T was Adolphus, son of Arnold and of Catherine de Bourbon. 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 brutal 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 the year 1477.

"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 constable, hath possessed himself by clean conveyance of the town which takes its name from my honoured saint and patron, Saint Quentin," (here he crossed himself,) 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, purchased by a ducking in the renowned river Cher, or one of its tributa

ries.

"Blaspheme not the saints, my young friend," + This part of Louis XIth's reign was much embarrassed by the intrigues of the Constable St. Paul, who affected independ ence, and carried on intrigues with England, France, and Burgundy, 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.

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.

said Maitre Pierre. "Saint Julian is the faithful pa- | youth, and the romantic veneration for the female tron of travellers; and, peradventure, the blessed Saint Quentin had 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 always 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 excelled the skill of the metropolis. The form of the 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 resemble the rich

er 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 of long black tresses, which, in the maiden fashion of his own country, were unadorned by any ornament, except a single chaplet lightly woven out of ivy leaves, formed a veil around a countenance, which, in its regular features, dark eyes, and pensive 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 gayety was not foreign to a countenance 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 drawing 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.

sex inspired by his education, he answered hastily, "That he would throw down his gage to any antagonist, 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 excite laughter, more scornful than applausive. Quen tin, 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 patiently 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 pos sessed 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 disconcerted. "Surely," he said to himself, "I do no. pay this same burgess of Tours all the deference 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. "How now, Jacqueline!" said Maitre Pierre, when But he is an extraordinary person; and that beautishe entered the apartment-"Wherefore this? Did ful emanation that is even now vanishing-surely a I not desire that Dame Perette should bring what I thing so fair belongs not to this mean place, belongs wanted?-Pasques-dieu!-Is she, or does she think not even to the money-gathering merchant himself, herself, too good to serve me?" though he seems to exert authority over her, as "My kinswoman is ill at ease,' answered Jacque-doubtless he does over all whom chance brings withline, in a hurried yet an humble tone; "ill at ease, and in his little circle. It is wonderful what ideas of conkeeps her chamber." sequence these Flemings and Frenchmen attach to wealth-so much more than wealth deserves, that I suppose this old merchant 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!"

"She keeps it alone, I hope?" replied Maitre Pierre, with some emphasis; "I am rieur 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.

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 countenance 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, Jacqueline, 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. 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 pathetic appeal to him for support and sympathy; and with the promptitude dictated by the feelings of 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 understanding, and not less for the character, of the fair sex.

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 kiswoman 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 kinswoman, 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 scarce 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 have excused himself from accepting the profuse last, raising his head, and looking steadily and firmly liberality of his new friend; but Maitre Pierre, bendat Quentin, when he put the question-"a lovely girl ing his dark brows, and erecting his stooping figure to be the servant of an auberge?-she might grace into an attitude of more dignity than he had yet seen the board of an honest burgess; but 'tis a vile edu-him assume, said, in a tone of authority, "No reply, cation, a base origin." 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.

It sometimes happens that a chance shot will demolish a noble castle in the air, and the architect on such occasions entertains little good-will towards him who fires it, although the damage on the offender'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 or less than what her occupation announced the servant of the auberge-an upper servant, indeed, and probably a niece of the landlord, or such like; but still a domestic, 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 returned 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 downcast look, pinched features, and mean and miserly dress, something which prevented the young man from asserting the superiority over the merchant which he conceived himself to possess. On the contrary, 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."

66

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, 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 determined 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 loquacious, 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?"

"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

An excellent maxim," said the merchant, availing 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, Quen-order breakfast?" tin 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 zeal with which you seemed to relish the Vin de 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. Remain in this hostelry until you see your kinsman, Le Balafré, 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
VOL. IV. 2 R

"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 ?"

"O, 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 Venetians 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 confections, 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."

"Rich men may have their fancies, for they can

pay for them," said the landlord; "this is not the first | years and upwards, look with indifference on little time that Maitre Pierre has found the true way to turret-windows, though the lattice be half open 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 whatever time he was pleased to command it.

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 Durward's happy age, such accidents. as a painter would call them, form sufficient foundation for a hundred airy visions and mysterious con

"Could he be permitted," he asked, "to pay his re-jectures, at recollection of which the full-grown man spects 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,

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 supposed 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 course be understood, that he did not produce a broad staring Quentin, who carried the notions of his own im- visage and person in full front of his own casement. portance pretty high, considering how destitute he Durward knew better the art of bird-catching; and was of means to support them, being somewhat mor- it was to his keeping his person skilfully withdrawn tified by the innkeeper's reply, did not hesitate to avail on one side of his window, while he peeped through himself of a practice common enough in that age. the lattice, that he owed the pleasure of seeing a "Carry to the ladies," he said, "a flask of vernat, white, round, beautiful arm, take down the instruwith my humble duty; and say, that Quentin Dur-ment, and that his ears had presently after their share ward, of the house of Glen-houlakin, a Scottish ca- in the reward of his dexterous management. valier of honour, and now their fellow-lodger, desires the permission to dedicate his homage to them in a personal interview."

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,

The messenger departed, and returned, almost instantly, with the thanks of the ladies, who declined the proffered refreshment, and with their acknow-wit, or fancy, as to withdraw the attention from the ledgments to the Scottish cavalier, regretted that, residing there in privacy, they could not receive his

visit.

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 Quentin bit his lip, took a cup of the rejected ver- notes, or the air played without the words, neither nat, which the host had placed on the table. "By the would have been worth noting. It is, therefore, mass, but this is a strange country," said he to him- scarcely fair to put upon record fines intended not to self, "where merchants and mechanics exercise the be said or read, but only to be sung. But such scraps manners and munificence of nobles, and little travel- of old poetry have always had a sort of fascination for ling damsels, who hold their court in a cabaret, keep us; and as the tune is lost for ever unless Bishop their state like disguised princesses! I will see that happens to find the notes, or some lark teaches Steblack-browed maiden again, or it will go hard, how-phens to warble the air-we will risk our credit, and ever;" 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 specimen 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.-"I am bound to pleasure every friend of Maitre Pierre."

"O happy ducking!" exclaimed Quentin Durward, 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."

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.

The lark, his lay who thrill'd 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.

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 view of 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 Durward was mortified and surprised at the consethese more remote objects, and looking straight quence of his precipitance, but comforted himself along the wall, the turret of Quentin was opposite to with the hope, that the Lady of the Lute could neither another turret, and the little window at which he easily forego the practice of an instrument which seemstood commanded a similar little window, in a cor-ed so familiar to her, nor cruelly resolve to renounce responding 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

the pleasures of fresh air and an open window, for the churlish purpose of preserving for her own exclusive ear the sweet sounds which she 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 | thence almost to the tip of his ear, exhibiting a deep inhabitant of the one turret, he could not but be con- seam, which was sometimes scarlet, sometimes purscious that a handsome, young, roving, bright-lock-ple, sometimes blue, and sometimes approaching to ed gallant, a cavalier of fortune, was the tenant of black; but always hideous, because at variance with the other; and romances, those prudent instructers, the complexion of the face in whatever state it chanhad taught his youth, that if damsels were shy, they ced to be, whether agitated or still, flushed with unwere yet neither void of interest nor of curiosity in usual passion, or in its ordinary state of weather-beaten their neighbours' affairs. and sunburnt swarthiness.

Whilst Quentin was engaged in these sage reflections, a sort of attendant or chamberlain of the inn informed him that a cavalier desired to speak with him below.

CHAPTER V.

THE MAN-AT-ARMS.

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.

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 Balafré; 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.

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 General. The Archer's gorget, arm-pieces, and gauntlets, 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 hose of mail and shoes of steel Charles the Sixth had instituted this celebrated -a broad strong poniard (called the Mercy of God) body, the Archers, as they were called, of the Scot-hung by his right side the baldric for his two-handtish Body-guard, with better reason than can gene-ed sword, richly embroidered, hung upon his left rally be alleged for establishing round the throne a shoulder; but, for convenience, he at present carried guard of foreign and mercenary troops. The divisions in his hand that unwieldly weapon, which the rules of which tore from his side more than half of France, his service forbade him to lay aside. together with the wavering and uncertain faith of the nobility who yet acknowledged his cause, rendered it impolitic and unsafe to commit his personal 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 superabundant 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 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 honorary privileges and ample pay, which last most of them disposed of with military profusion in supporting 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 dignity in their own eyes, as well as importance in those of the nation of France. They were sumptuously 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 coutelier, from the large knife which he wore to despatch those whom in the melée his master had thrown to the ground. With these followers, and a corresponding equipage, an Archer of the Scottish 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.

Ludovic Lesly, or, as we shall more frequently call him, Le Balafre, by which name he was generally 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

"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. 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 of the Swiss-French in the modern guinguettes 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 Balafré; "you must fear the wine-pot less, if you would wear beard on your face, and write yourself soldier. But comecome 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 revelling 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!

*The crutches or stilts, which in Scotland are used to pass

rivers. They are employed by the peasantry of the country near Bourdeaux, to traverse those deserts of loose sand called Landes.