"Ask no questions," said Dunois – for it was no other than he – "it was all my fault. – See, he stirs. I came forth but to have a snatch at yonder damsel, and make myself a landed and a married man – and see what is come on't. Keep back your canaille – let no man look upon him." So saying, he opened the visor of Orleans, and threw water on his face, which was afforded by the neighbouring lake.
Quentin Durward, meanwhile, stood like one planet-struck; so fast did new adventures pour in upon him. He had now, as the pale features of his first antagonist assured him, borne to the earth the first Prince of the blood in France, and had measured swords with her best champion, the celebrated Dunois; – both of them achievements honourable in themselves; but whether they might be called good service to the King, or so esteemed by him, was a very different question.
The Duke had now recovered his breath, and was able to sit up and give attention to what passed betwixt Dunois and Crawford, while the former pleaded eagerly, that there was no occasion to mention in the matter the name of the most noble Orleans, while he was ready to take the whole blame on his own shoulders; and to avouch that the Duke had only come thither in friendship to him.
Lord Crawford continued listening, with his eyes fixed on the ground, and from time to time he sighed and shook his head. At length he said, looking up, "Thou knowest, Dunois, that for thy father's sake, as well as thine own, I would full fain do thee a service."
"It is not for myself I demand any thing," answered Dunois. "Thou hast my sword, and I am your prisoner – what needs more? – But it is for this noble Prince, the only hope of France, if God should call the Dauphin. He only came hither to do me a favour – in an effort to make my fortune – in a matter which the King had partly encouraged."
"Dunois," replied Crawford, "if another had told me thou hadst brought the noble Prince into this jeopardy to serve any purpose of thine own, I had told him it was false. And now, that thou dost pretend so thyself, I can hardly believe it is for the sake of speaking the truth."
"Noble Crawford," said Orleans, who had now entirely recovered from his swoon, "you are too like in character to your friend Dunois, not to do him justice. It was indeed I that dragged him hither, most unwillingly, upon an enterprise of harebrained passion, suddenly and rashly undertaken. – Look on me all who will," he added, rising up and turning to the soldiery – "I am Louis of Orleans, willing to pay the penalty of my own folly. I trust the King will limit his displeasure to me, as is but just. – Meanwhile, as a child of France must not give up his sword to any one – not even to you, brave Crawford – fare thee well, good steel."
So saying, he drew his sword from its scabbard, and flung it into the lake. It went through the air like a stream of lightning, and sunk in the flashing waters, which speedily closed over it. All remained standing in irresolution and astonishment, so high was the rank, and so much esteemed was the character, of the culprit; while, at the same time, all were conscious that the consequences of his rash enterprise, considering the views which the King had upon him, were likely to end in his utter ruin.
Dunois was the first who spoke, and it was in the chiding tone of an offended, and distrusted friend: – "So! your Highness hath judged it fit to cast away your best sword, in the same morning when it was your pleasure to fling away the King's favour, and to slight the friendship of Dunois?"
"My dearest kinsman," said the Duke, "when or how was it in my purpose to slight your friendship, by telling the truth, when it was due to your safety and my honour?"