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 opposition; 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 Burgundian 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 behalf of poor Klepper, my palfrey, the only living 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 discourtesy, 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; 'there is – there can be – there shall be – no such thing! – it is a dream of priestcraft!'
'Unhappy – most unhappy being! Think better! – let me speed for a priest – these men will delay yet a little longer – I will bribe them to it,' said Quentin – 'What canst thou expect, dying in such opinions, and impenitent?'
'To be resolved into the elements,' said the hardened 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 disappear, and return under different forms, – the watery particles to streams and showers, 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! begone! – disturb me no farther! – I have spoken the last word that mortal ears shall listen to!'
Deeply impressed with the horrors of his condition, 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 particular knowledge of those of Klepper, which he had often admired while Hayraddin and he travelled together, enabled him to take possession of the Bohemian'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!
CHAPTER XVIII. A PRIZE FOR HONOUR.
'Tis brave for Beauty when the best blade wins her.
When Quentin Durward reached Peronne, a council was sitting, in the issue of which he was interested 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 cultivate the returning interest which that circumstance had given him in the Duke's opinion, had been engaged 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 Frenchmen as, from their small number and high quality, might be considered rather as hostages than as auxiliaries; but, observant of Crevecoeur's advice, he assented as readily to whatever the Duke proposed, as if it had arisen from the free impulse of his own mind.
The King failed not, however, to indemnify himself 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 summons 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 bishopric, for ten years to come, shall have an impregnable 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 supposed 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 Isabelle 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 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 accordingly, 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
