[Montjoie St. Denis, a former war cry of the French soldiers. Saint Denis was a patron saint of France who suffered martyrdom in the third century. Montjoie (mont and joie) may be the name of the hill where the saint met his death; or it may signify that any such place is a “hill of joy.”]
“Marry and amen, and in a most happy hour!” said the martial Dunois; and the guards in the hall, unable to resist the same impulse, stirred each upon his post, so as to produce a low but distinct sound of clashing arms. The King cast his eye proudly round, and, for a moment, thought and looked like his heroic father.
But the excitement of the moment presently gave way to the host of political considerations, which, at that conjuncture, rendered an open breach with Burgundy so peculiarly perilous. Edward IV, a brave and victorious king, who had in his own person fought thirty battles, was now established on the throne of England, was brother to the Duchess of Burgundy, and, it might well be supposed, waited but a rupture between his near connexion and Louis, to carry into France, through the ever open gate of Calais, those arms which had been triumphant in the English civil wars, and to obliterate the recollection of internal dissensions by that most popular of all occupations amongst the English, an invasion of France. To this consideration was added the uncertain faith of the Duke of Bretagne, and other weighty subjects of reflection. So that, after a deep pause, when Louis again spoke, although in the same tone, it was with an altered spirit. “But God forbid,” he said, “that aught less than necessity should make us, the Most Christian' King, give cause to the effusion of Christian blood, if anything short of dishonour may avert such a calamity. We tender our subjects' safety dearer than the ruffle which our own dignity may receive from the rude breath of a malapert ambassador, who hath perhaps exceeded the errand with which he was charged.—Admit the Envoy of Burgundy to our presence.”
“Beati pacifici, [blessed are the peace makers]” said the Cardinal Balue.
“True; and your Eminence knoweth that they who humble themselves shall be exalted,” added the King.
The Cardinal spoke an Amen, to which few assented, for even the pale cheek of Orleans kindled with shame, and Balafre suppressed his feelings so little, as to let the butt end of his partisan fall heavily on the floor—a movement of impatience for which he underwent a bitter reproof from the Cardinal, with a lecture on the mode of handling his arms when in presence of the Sovereign. The King himself seemed unusually embarrassed at the silence around him.
“You are pensive, Dunois,” he said. “You disapprove of our giving way to this hot headed Envoy.”
“By no means,”' said Dunois; “I meddle not with matters beyond my sphere. I was thinking of asking a boon of your Majesty.”
“A boon, Dunois—what is it? You are an unfrequent suitor, and may count on our favour.”
“I would, then, your Majesty would send me to Evreux to regulate the clergy,” said Dunois, with military frankness.