"Umph!" – said the senior, "perhaps you are yourself such a gallant?"
"I should sin if I were to boast where there is no danger," answered young Durward; "but my father has done as bold an act, and I trust I am no bastard."
"Well," said his companion, smiling, "you might meet your match, and your kindred withal in the attempt; for the Scottish Archers of King Louis's Life-guards stand sentinels on yonder walls – three hundred gentlemen of the best blood in your country."
"And were I King Louis," said the youth, in reply, "I would trust my safety to the faith of the three hundred Scottish gentlemen, throw down my bounding walls to fill up the moat, call in my noble peers and paladins, and live as became me, amid breaking of lances in gallant tournaments, and feasting of days with nobles, and dancing of nights with ladies, and have no more fear of a foe than I have of a fly."
His companion again smiled, and turning his back on the Castle, which, he observed, they had approached a little too nearly, he led the way again into the wood, by a more broad and beaten path than they had yet trodden. "This," he said, "leads us to the village of Plessis, as it is called, where you, as a stranger, will find reasonable and honest accommodation. About two miles onward lies the fine city of Tours, which gives name to this rich and beautiful earldom. But the village of Plessis, or Plessis of the Park, as it is sometimes called, from its vicinity to the royal residence, and the chase with which it is encircled, will yield you nearer, and as convenient hospitality."
"I thank you, kind master, for your information," said the Scot; "but my stay will be so short here, that if I fail not in a morsel of meat, and a drink of something better than water, my necessities in Plessis, be it of the park or the pool, will be amply satisfied."
"Nay," answered his companion, "I thought you had some friend to see in this quarter."
"And so I have – my mother's own brother," answered Durward; "and as pretty a man, before he left the braes of Angus, as ever planted brogue on heather."
"What is his name?" said the senior; "we will enquire him out for you; for it is not safe for you to go up to the Castle, where you might be taken for a spy."
"Now, by my father's hand!" said the youth, "I taken for a spy! – By Heaven, he shall brook cold iron that brands me with such a charge! – But for my uncle's name, I care not who knows it – it is Lesly. Lesly – an honest and noble name."