"If Your Highness will not support me in what I do, I must go on alone. I too am one of these doomed people, I too am a heretic. I am one of those whom the Church and Philip have thrice cursed, thrice damned; and every poor artisan whose flesh smokes above the market-place, and every wandering preacher who is tortured to death, is my brother in God. I cannot speak of these things without tears. We may tourney and dance and feast, but the nation is bleeding to death from a thousand wounds, and I cannot go on in my own easy safety——"
"It is not your country, Louis, nor your quarrel."
"Yes, it is my quarrel," returned the young Count eagerly, "because I too am a heretic. This cause I espouse, to this quarrel I devote myself."
"You are knight-errant," said the Prince.
Louis flushed again.
"No, I am nothing but a poor soldier, as which I shall live and die."
William suddenly moved so as to face him.
"How far will you go?" he demanded.
"As far as any."
"Would you take up arms against the King?"