French Paris, the Earl's favourite and most trusted page, now raised the arras and presented his saucy and ruddy face.
"Well," asked the Earl, "how fares it with the person whom I fished out of the river?"
"He will be well, and with you anon, my Lord."
"What manner of man is he?"
"French, my lord, I think; but he has not yet spoken."
"Good! by his sleeves of fluted plate I deemed him a gentleman. He will be one of d'Elboeuff's retinue."
"Monsieur le Marquess has been hunting with the Hamiltons in the wood of Orbiestoun, so 'tis very likely."
"Well, bring the stranger hither with all speed."
"We have hung him heels uppermost to run the water out of him; and when we have reversed him, and replaced the said water by a bicker of wine, we will present him to your lordship."
"A forward March chick!" said the Earl, as the page disappeared. "By the mass! when I carried the helmet of old John of Albany, I dared not have spoken so flippantly even to a simple squire or archer as this saucy imp doth to me, who am a belted Earl."