At length he now formed the centre of a considerable crowd, which yet yielded before him while he continued to move forward; while those who followed or kept pace with him, studiously avoided pressing on him, or impeding his motions. Yet his situation was too embarrassing to be long endured, without making some attempt to extricate himself, and to obtain some explanation.
Quentin looked around him, and fixing upon a jolly, stout-made, respectable man, whom, by his velvet cloak and gold chain, he concluded to be a burgher of eminence, and perhaps a magistrate, he asked him, "Whether he saw any thing particular in his appearance, to attract public attention in a degree so unusual? or whether it was the ordinary custom of the people of Liege thus to throng around strangers who chanced to visit their city?"
"Surely not, good seignior," answered the burgher; "the Liegeois are neither so idly curious as to practise such a custom, nor is there any thing in your dress or appearance, saving that which is most welcome to this city, and which our townsmen are both delighted to see, and desirous to honour."
"This sounds very polite, worthy sir," said Quentin; "but by the Cross of Saint Andrew, I cannot even guess at your meaning."
"Your oath, sir," answered the merchant of Liege, "as well as your accent, convinces me that we are right in our conjecture."
"By my patron Saint Quentin!" said Durward, "I am farther off from your meaning than ever."
"There again now," rejoined the Liegeois, looking, as he spoke, most provokingly, yet most civilly, politic and intelligent. – "It is surely not for us to see that which you, worthy seignior, deem it proper to conceal. But why swear by Saint Quentin, if you would not have me construe your meaning? – We know the good Count of Saint Paul, who lies there at present, wishes well to our cause."
"On my life," said Quentin, "you are under some delusion – I know nothing of Saint Paul."
"Nay, we question you not," said the burgher; "although, hark ye – I say, hark in your ear – my name is Pavillon."
"And what is my business with that, Seignior Pavillon?" said Quentin.