Doubtless there was a good deal of ribaldry in the words--doubtless there was a good deal of licentiousness in the hearts of those around; but yet there was a joyous exuberance of life--a careless, happy, thoughtless confidence--an infectious merriment, that was difficult to resist. The ringing laughter, the light song, the gay jest, the cheerful faces, all seemed to ask Jean Charost, as he passed along, "Why should you take thought for the morrow, when you can never tell that a morrow will be yours? Why should you have care for the future, when the future is disposed of by hands you can not see? Rejoice! rejoice in the present day! Eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow you die."
Many a jest assailed the friar and his mule as they passed along; but Jean Charost was in no mood to suffer a jest to annoy him. His hopes had increased as he came near the spot where they were to be fulfilled or extinguished, and the scene around him was certainly not calculated to bid them depart too soon.
At the door of a small inn, he stopped, and asked if he could find entertainment; but the landlord rolled out a fat laugh, and told him, No, not if he could make himself as small as the constable's dwarf. "We are all as full here," he said, "as we can hold, and running over, with the dauphin's men-at-arms. I doubt whether you will find a quarter of a bed in the whole place. At the great gite; there--that place which looks so dull and melancholy--you will have a better chance than any where else; for Maître Langrin has raised his prices above the tax, because he expects the lords and commanders to stay there; but I don't think they will prefer his bad wine to my good, and pay more for it." Thither, however, Jean Charost turned his mule; but here the answer was much the same as before, combined with the saucy intimation that they did not want any monks at that house; and the young gentleman was turning away, thinking, with some anxiety, how he could feed and stable his beast, when he saw a man, dressed apparently as a superior officer, examining somewhat closely the mule, which he had left tied to the tall post before the inn. He was not fully armed, although he had a haubergeon on; and his head was only covered with a plumed cap. Though tall and well formed, he stooped a little; and as he drew back a step or two when the young gentleman approached to mount, he seemed to move with some difficulty, and limped as he walked.
Jean Charost put his foot into the stirrup, mounted, and was about to ride away, when the stranger called to him, somewhat roughly, saying, "Where got you that mule, monk?"
"It was a gift," replied Jean Charost, in a quiet tone, turning his face full toward the speaker.
"A gift--not from a palmer to a convent," cried the other, "but from a lady to a soldier!" and in a moment after his arms were thrown round Jean Charost, while he exclaimed, with a laugh, "Why, don't you know me, De Brecy? I am not so much metamorphosed as you, in all your monkery. In Heaven's name, what are you doing in this garb, and in this place? Where do you come from? What are you doing? Some said you were killed at Azincourt. One man swore to me he saw you die. Another told me you were a prisoner in England; and I have always supposed the latter was the case, for I have found in my own case how difficult it is to get killed. They have nearly chopped me to mincemeat, but here I am--what is left of me, that is to say."
The young gentleman gave his old companion all the information he desired; telling him, moreover, not without some hopes of assistance, the difficulties under which he just then labored.
"Oh, come with me, come with me," said Juvenel de Royans. "I am captain of a company of horse archers, and every one bows down in reverence to me here. You shall have half of my room, if they will give you none other;" and, leading him back into the inn, he called loudly for the host.
"Here, Master Langrin," he exclaimed, when the uncivil functionary whom Jean Charost had before seen made his appearance again, "this gentleman is a friend of mine. He must have accommodation--there, I know what you would say. You must make it, if you have not got it."
"I took the gentleman for a monk, sir," said the host, with all humility.