The result of this was that the painful silence was broken by the officer addressed as Sir Robert bursting into another loud insulting laugh. He looked at first one and then at the other of his companions, before doubling his great gloved fist and beginning to make his sword dance upon the table by thumping hard and shouting loudly:
“Now, landlord! Wine—wine—wine!”
“Pay no heed, sir,” said Leoni softly. “They are trying to provoke a quarrel, and you cannot stoop.”
“What’s that, Frenchman? Can’t you speak English? None of your miserable monsieuring here! Do you know where you are? In the shadow of the Court of the great King Hal. Here, youngster, what are you doing with that hilt? It isn’t a fiddlestick. I didn’t know dancing masters carried swords.—Ah, here’s the wine. Pour out landlord; and here,” he continued, as the host nervously filled the cups he had brought. “Bah! Fool! Into the cups, not all over the table. Your wine is always bad, but sack is too good to polish English oak. Now, boys, here’s to—Stop! Let’s make this French springald drink King Harry’s health. There, boy. Take up that cup.”
Leoni stretched out his hand to catch Denis by the arm, but he was too late, for, with his eyes flashing, the boy stepped quickly forward to the table, caught up the cup, and raised it towards his lips.
“Montjoie Saint Denis! God save the King of France!” he cried, and was about to drain the cup, while Leoni uttered an impatient hiss, when the vessel was brutally struck from his hand by the English officer, the wine being scattered about the room, and bringing the King to his feet.
“Insolent!” cried Sir Robert, with his face now crimson, as he too sprang to his feet, and catching up another of the filled cups. “But he shall drink it, boys, or I’ll slit his miserable ears. Do you understand plain English, you minuet-dancing puppy?”
“Yes,” panted Denis, between his teeth, and never taking his eyes from the Englishman; “every word.”
“Ah! That’s good. Then take this cup, and down upon your knees and drink King Harry’s health, or ’fore Heaven you shall go back to your miserable country marked by an English blade.”
There was a momentary pause in the room, every eye being centred upon the boy, fascinated as all were and self-forgetful, as they watched for the outcome of the incident.