ously now....--To Monsieur de Bressuire, our
friend....--Armies cannot be maintained without tribute, etc."

Once he raised his voice,--

"_Pasque Dieu_! Monsieur the King of Sicily seals his letters with
yellow wax, like a king of France. Perhaps we are in the wrong to permit
him so to do. My fair cousin of Burgundy granted no armorial bearings
with a field of gules. The grandeur of houses is assured by the
integrity of prerogatives. Note this, friend Olivier."

Again,--

"Oh! oh!" said he, "What a long message! What doth our brother the
emperor claim?" And running his eye over the missive and breaking
his reading with interjection: "Surely! the Germans are so great and
powerful, that it is hardly credible--But let us not forget the old
proverb: 'The finest county is Flanders; the finest duchy, Milan; the
finest kingdom, France.' Is it not so, Messieurs Flemings?"

This time Coppenole bowed in company with Guillaume Rym. The hosier's
patriotism was tickled.

The last despatch made Louis XI. frown.

"What is this?" he said, "Complaints and fault finding against our
garrisons in Picardy! Olivier, write with diligence to M. the Marshal
de Rouault:--That discipline is relaxed. That the gendarmes of the
unattached troops, the feudal nobles, the free archers, and the Swiss
inflict infinite evils on the rustics.--That the military, not content
with what they find in the houses of the rustics, constrain them with
violent blows of cudgel or of lash to go and get wine, spices, and other
unreasonable things in the town.--That monsieur the king knows this.
That we undertake to guard our people against inconveniences, larcenies
and pillage.--That such is our will, by our Lady!--That in addition, it
suits us not that any fiddler, barber, or any soldier varlet should be
clad like a prince, in velvet, cloth of silk, and rings of gold.--That
these vanities are hateful to God.--That we, who are gentlemen,
content ourselves with a doublet of cloth at sixteen sols the ell, of
Paris.--That messieurs the camp-followers can very well come down
to that, also.--Command and ordain.--To Monsieur de Rouault, our
friend.--Good."

He dictated this letter aloud, in a firm tone, and in jerks. At the
moment when he finished it, the door opened and gave passage to a
new personage, who precipitated himself into the chamber, crying in
affright,--

"Sire! sire! there is a sedition of the populace in Paris!" Louis XI.'s
grave face contracted; b