“I am glad you have come, noble knights. We will meet at table and further consider this matter. But, alas! two fowls and a leg of mutton!”
On the evening of the same day, when La Hire reached his lodgings and was laying off his armor, a young man of about eighteen years entered. His strong, supple frame, handsome, noble face, piercing black eyes, lofty forehead beneath raven-black hair, as well as his resolute, self-confident bearing, impressed themselves upon the knight.
“Who are you, and what do you wish?” he said, at the same time regarding the young man with evident satisfaction.
“My name, noble knight, is probably unknown to you,” was his reply. “My father of blessed memory, however, left it to me unstained. I have come to honor that name under your banner in the service of the distressed King and the unhappy fatherland.”
“Well said, young man, and, by Our Lady, you look to me like one who can use his sword as well as his tongue. We will consider the matter.”
“Will you not accept my service, noble sir?”
“Gently, young man. Do you suppose that I confide the honor of my banner to every nameless fellow? Out with your name.”
“I am called Jean Renault.”
“Renault? Was your father that Thomas Renault who fell in the service of the Duke of Orleans, fighting against the English?”
“The same, noble sir.”