duped by his professions."

Louis, too, had his confidences with Oliver le Dain, when he returned to
his own quarters. "This," he said, "is such a mixture of shrewdness and
simplicity, that I know not what to make of him. Pasques dieu! think of
his unpardonable folly in bringing out honest De la Marck's plan of a
sally before the face of Burgundy, Crevecoeur, and all of them, instead
of rounding it in my ear, and giving me at least the choice of abetting
or defeating it!"

"It is better as it is, Sire," said Oliver; "there are many in your
present train who would scruple to assail Burgundy undefied, or to ally
themselves with De la Marck."

"Thou art right, Oliver. Such fools there are in the world, and we have
no time to reconcile their scruples by a little dose of self interest.
We must be true men, Oliver, and good allies of Burgundy, for this night
at least--time may give us a chance of a better game. Go, tell no man to
unarm himself; and let them shoot, in case of necessity, as sharply on
those who cry France and St. Denis! as if they cried Hell and Satan! I
will myself sleep in my armour. Let Crawford place Quentin Durward on
the extreme point of our line of sentinels, next to the city. Let him
e'en have the first benefit of the sally which he has announced to
us--if his luck bear him out, it is the better for him. But take an
especial care of Martius Galeotti, and see he remain in the rear, in a
place of the most absolute safety--he is even but too venturous, and,
like a fool, would be both swordsman and philosopher. See to these
things, Oliver, and good night.--Our Lady of Clery, and Monseigneur St.
Martin of Tours, be gracious to my slumbers!"

[The Duke of Burgundy, full of resentment for the usage which the Bishop
had received from the people of Liege (whose death, as already noticed,
did not take place for some years after), and knowing that the walls of
the town had not been repaired since they were breached by himself after
the battle of Saint Tron, advanced recklessly to their chastisement. His
commanders shared his presumptuous confidence: for the advanced guard
of his army, under the Marechal of Burgundy, and Seigneur D'Hymbercourt,
rushed upon one of the suburbs, without waiting for the rest of their
army, which, commanded by the Duke in person, remained about seven or
eight leagues in the rear. The night was closing, and, as the Burgundian
troops observed no discipline, they were exposed to a sud