“May it please your Lordship” said Durward.
“Is the lad crazed?” exclaimed his uncle. “Would you speak to his Lordship without a question asked?”
“Patience, Ludovic,” said Lord Crawford, “and let us hear what the bairn has to say.”
“Only this, if it may please your Lordship,” replied Quentin, “that I told my uncle formerly I had some doubts about entering this service. I have now to say that they are entirely removed, since I have seen the noble and experienced commander under whom I am to serve; for there is authority in your look.”
“Weel said, my bairn,” said the old Lord, not insensible to the compliment; “we have had some experience, had God sent us grace to improve by it, both in service and in command. There you stand, Quentin, in our honourable corps of Scottish Bodyguards, as esquire to your uncle, and serving under his lance. I trust you will do well, for you should be a right man at arms, if all be good that is upcome [that is, if your courage corresponds with your personal appearance. S.], and you are come of a gentle kindred.—Ludovic, you will see that your kinsman follow his exercise diligently, for we will have spears breaking one of these days.”
“By my hilts, and I am glad of it, my Lord—this peace makes cowards of us all. I myself feel a sort of decay of spirit, closed up in this cursed dungeon of a Castle.”
“Well, a bird whistled in my ear,” continued Lord Crawford, “that the old banner will be soon dancing in the field again.”
“I will drink a cup the deeper this evening to that very tune,” said Balafre.
“Thou wilt drink to any tune,” said Lord Crawford; “and I fear me, Ludovic, you will drink a bitter browst [as much liquor as is brewed at one time] of your own brewing one day.”
Lesly, a little abashed, replied that it had not been his wont for many a day; but that his Lordship knew the use of the company, to have a carouse to the health of a new comrade.