"Young Pierre de Terrail," answered Ramiro. "He seems a noble youth, and was much grieved to hear that you were suffering. He has brought some twenty men with him, whom we have lodged commodiously; but I would not suffer him to come up while you were sleeping, as undisturbed repose was most necessary to your recovery."
Lorenzo expressed a strong wish to see his young comrade; and in a few minutes he, so celebrated afterwards as the Chevalier Bayard, was introduced. He was at this time a youth of about eighteen years of age, who at first sight appeared but slightly made, and formed more for activity than strength. Closer observation, however, showed in the broad shoulders and open chest, the thin flank, and long, powerful limbs, the promise of that hardy vigour which he afterwards displayed.
Lorenzo held out his hand to him with a warm smile, saying, "Welcome, welcome, De Terrail! You find me here fit for nothing, while there you are still in your armour, as a reproach to me, I suppose, for not being ready to march."
"Not so, not so, Visconti," said the young hero. "I did not know how soon you might wake, or how soon I might have occasion to go on to Pavia, and therefore I sat me down and slept in my armour, like a lobster in his shell. But how feel you now? Is the venom wholly subdued?"
"Yes, thanks to this noble lord," replied Lorenzo.
"Nevertheless," rejoined Ramiro, "you will need several days' repose before you can venture to mount your horse. Any agitation of the blood might prove fatal."
"Why, he has just been named by the king to the command of a troop in our band," answered De Terrail; "but we must manage that for you, Visconti. We will take it turn and turn about to order your company for you till you are well."
"Nay, I do not intend to have that troop," replied his young friend. "It is yours of right, Terrail. You entered full three months before me; and I will not consent to be put over your head."
"I will have none of it," answered the young Bayard. "It is the king's own will, Visconti; and we must obey without grumbling. Besides, do you think I will rob a man of his post while he is suffering on my account?"
"How am I suffering on your account?" asked Visconti. "What had you to do with my wound?"