"My lord, my lord," said Crèvecoeur, impatiently, "the insolence of these foreign mercenaries is proverbial, and should receive rather rebuke than encouragement from you, who are their leader."
"My Lord Count," answered Crawford, "I have ordered my command for these fifty years, without advice either from Frenchman or Burgundian; and I intend to do so, under your favour, so long as I shall continue to hold it."
"Well, well, my lord," said Crèvecoeur, "I meant you no disrespect; your nobleness, as well as your age, entitle you to be privileged in your impatience; and for these young people, I am satisfied to overlook the past, since I will take care that they never meet again."
"Do not take that upon your salvation, Crèvecoeur," said the old Lord, laughing; "mountains, it is said, may meet, and why not mortal creatures that have legs, and life and love to put those legs in motion? You kiss, Crèvecoeur, came tenderly off – methinks it was ominous."
"You are striving again to disturb my patience," said Crèvecoeur, "but I will not give you that advantage over me. – Hark! they toll the summons to the Castle – an awful meeting, of which God only can foretell the issue."
"This issue I can foretell," said the old Scottish Lord, "that if violence is to be offered to the person of the King, few as his friends are, and surrounded by his enemies, he shall neither fall alone nor unavenged; and grieved I am, that his own positive orders have prevented my taking measures to prepare for such an issue."
"My Lord of Crawford," said the Burgundian, "to anticipate such evil is the sure way to give occasion to it. Obey the orders of your royal master, and give no pretext for violence by taking hasty offence, and you will find that the day will pass over more smoothly than you now conjecture."
CHAPTER XV. THE INVESTIGATION.
Me rather had, my heart might feel your love, Than my displeased eye see your courtesy. Up, cousin, up – your heart is up, I know, Thus high at least – although your knee – King Richard II
At the first toll of the bell, which was to summon the great nobles of Burgundy together in council, with the very few French peers who could be present on the occasion, Duke Charles, followed by a part of his train, armed with partisans and battle-axes, entered the Hall of Herbert's Tower, in the Castle of Peronne. King Louis, who had expected the visit, arose and made two steps towards the Duke, and then remained standing with an air of dignity, which, in spite of the meanness of his dress, and the familiarity of his ordinary manners, he knew very well how to assume when he judged it necessary. Upon the present important crisis, the composure of his demeanour had an evident effect upon his rival, who changed the abrupt and hasty step with which he entered the apartment, into one more becoming a great vassal entering the presence of his Lord Paramount. Apparently the Duke had formed the internal resolution to treat Louis, in the outset at least, with the formalities due to his high station; but at the same time it was evident, that, in doing so, he put no small constraint upon the fiery impatience of his own disposition, and was scarce able to control the feelings of resentment, and the thirst of revenge, which boiled in his bosom. Hence, though he compelled himself to use the outward acts, and in some degree the language, of courtesy and reverence, his colour came and went rapidly – his voice was abrupt, hoarse, and broken – his limbs shook, as if impatient of the curb imposed on his motions – he frowned and bit his lip until the blood came – and every look and movement showed that the most passionate prince who ever lived, was under the dominion of one of his most violent paroxysms of fury.