"And my father is with him?" said Arthur.
"Truly he is, and has in a right godly manner tried to set afoot a treaty of peace with my own father. But it will scarce succeed. Charles is as mad as ever; and our people are right proud of our victory, and so they well may. Nevertheless, my father forever preaches that such victories, and such heaps of wealth, will change our ancient manners, and that the ploughman will leave his labour to turn soldier. He says much about it; but why money, choice meat and wine, and fine clothing should do so much harm, I cannot bring my poor brains to see—And many better heads than mine are as much puzzled.—Here's to you, friend Arthur!—This is choice liquor!"
"And what brings you and your general, Prince Ferrand, post to Nancy?" said the young Englishman.
"Faith, you are yourself the cause of our journey."
"I the cause?" said Arthur.—"Why, how could that be?"
"Why, it is said you and Queen Margaret are urging this old fiddling King René to yield up his territories to Charles, and to disown Ferrand in his claim upon Lorraine. And the Duke of Lorraine sent a man that you know well—that is, you do not know him, but you know some of his family, and he knows more of you than you wot—to put a spoke in your wheel, and prevent your getting for Charles the county of Provence, or preventing Ferrand being troubled or traversed in his natural rights over Lorraine."
"On my word, Sigismund, I cannot comprehend you," said Arthur.
"Well," replied the Swiss, "my lot is a hard one. All our house say that I can comprehend nothing, and I shall be next told that nobody can comprehend me.—Well, in plain language, I mean my uncle, Count Albert, as he calls himself, of Geierstein—my father's brother."
"Anne of Geierstein's father!" echoed Arthur.
"Ay, truly; I thought we should find some mark to make you know him by."