"I will stand neutral, Sire," said the Cardinal, "and replenish my cup with Auvernat."
"A neutral has a perilous part to sustain," said the King; but as he observed the Cardinal colour somewhat, he glided from the subject, and added, "But you prefer the Auvernat, because it is so noble a wine it endures not water. – You, Sir Count, hesitate to empty your cup. I trust you have found no national bitterness at the bottom."
"I would, Sir," said the Count de Crèvecoeur, "that all national quarrels could be as pleasantly ended as the rivalry betwixt our vineyards."
"With time, Sir Count," answered the King, "with time – such time as you have taken to your draught of Champagne. – And now that it is finished, favour me by putting the goblet in your bosom, and keeping it as a pledge of our regard. It is not to every one that we would part with it. It belonged of yore to that terror of France, Henry V. of England, and was taken when Rouen was reduced, and those islanders expelled from Normandy by the joint arms of France and Burgundy. It cannot be better bestowed than on a noble and valiant Burgundian, who well knows that on the union of these two nations depends the continuance of the freedom of the continent from the English yoke."
The Count made a suitable answer, and Louis gave unrestrained way to the satirical gaiety of disposition which sometimes enlivened the darker shades of his character. Leading, of course, the conversation, his remarks, always shrewd and caustic, and often actually witty, were seldom good-natured, and the anecdotes with which he illustrated them were often more humorous than delicate; but in no one word, syllable, or letter, did he betray the state of mind of one who, apprehensive of assassination, hath in his apartment an armed soldier, with his piece loaded, in order to prevent or anticipate an attack on his person.
The Count of Crèvecoeur gave frankly into the King's humour; while the smooth churchman laughed at every jest, and enhanced every ludicrous idea, without exhibiting any shame at expressions which made the rustic young Scot blush even in his place of concealment.[26] In about an hour and a half the tables were drawn; and the King, taking courteous leave of his guests, gave the signal that it was his desire to be alone.
So soon as all, even Oliver, had retired, he called Quentin from his place of concealment; but with a voice so faint, that the youth could scarce believe it to be the same which had so lately given animation to the jest, and zest to the tale. As he approached, he saw an equal change in his countenance. The light of assumed vivacity had left the King's eyes, the smile had deserted his face, and he exhibited all the fatigue of a celebrated actor, when he has finished the exhausting representation of some favourite character, in which, while upon the stage, he had displayed the utmost vivacity.
"Thy watch is not yet over," said he to Quentin – "refresh thyself for an instant – yonder table affords the means – I will then instruct thee in thy farther duty. Meanwhile, it is ill talking between a full man and a fasting."
He threw himself back on his seat, covered his brow with his hand, and was silent.