“Do you take me for a wizard? Or, do you mean I am in partnership with the devil?”
“Resolution and courage, sire, have often worked wonders. Inscribe them on your banner to-day, and to-morrow it will not flutter deserted. It will rally those around it who have fallen away discouraged as well as those who follow the profession of arms, and would gladly enlist under such a royal banner for the sake of the rich reward. There are men yet who are ready to stand by you with their good swords. See, here is my stanch friend Saintrailles,” pointing to his companion, “and he is not the only one who is ready.”
“You are welcome, brave knight,” said Charles. “It is a shame I can only invite you to sit down to two fowls and a leg of mutton.”
“Sire,” replied Saintrailles, who could hardly restrain his indignation, “I was not thinking of your table when I followed my friend here. I was thinking of your wretched plight and of the bleeding fatherland.”
“And do you believe it can be helped?”
“Certainly, sire, but he who would win must venture.”
“Yes, and in the meantime he may also lose. But, by my faith, I have not much more to lose.”
“But all the more to win. The brave soul thinks only of winning.”
“Oh, yes, you talk like La Hire, and La Hire talks like Marie, and Marie talks like—but if the English would let me have Languedoc as an independent dukedom, then—”
He did not finish the sentence, for through the side-door, which was partly open, he saw the warning finger of Agnes Sorel. Then he resumed: