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THE RECRUITING OFFICER

An attendant upon the Archers having been dismounted, Quentin Durward
was accommodated with his horse, and, in company of his martial
countrymen, rode at a round pace towards the Castle of Plessis, about
to become, although on his own part involuntarily, an inhabitant of that
gloomy fortress, the outside of which had, that morning, struck him with
so much surprise.

In the meanwhile, in answer to his uncle's repeated interrogations, he
gave him an exact account of the accident which had that morning
brought him into so much danger. Although he himself saw nothing in his
narrative save what was affecting, he found it was received with much
laughter by his escort.

"And yet it is no good jest either," said his uncle, "for what, in the
devil's name, could lead the senseless boy to meddle with the body of a
cursed misbelieving Jewish Moorish pagan?"

"Had he quarrelled with the Marshals men about a pretty wench,
as Michael of Moffat did, there had been more sense in it," said
Cunningham.

"But I think it touches our honour that Tristan and his people pretend
to confound our Scottish bonnets with these pilfering vagabonds--torques
and turbands, as they call them," said Lindesay. "If they have not eyes
to see the difference they must be taught by rule of hand. But it 's my
belief, Tristan but pretends to mistake, that he may snap up the kindly
Scots that come over to see their kinsfolks."

"May I ask, kinsman," said Quentin, "what sort of people these are of
whom you speak?"

"In troth you may ask," said his uncle, "but I know not, fair nephew,
who is able to answer you. Not I, I am sure, although I know, it may be,
as much as other people; but they appeared in this land within a year or
two, just as a flight of locusts might do."

"Ay," said Lindesay, "and Jacques Bonhomme (that is our name for the
peasant, young man--you will learn our way of talk in time)--honest
Jacques, I say, cares little what wind either brings them or the
locusts, so he but knows any gale that would carry them away again."

"Do they do so much evil?" asked the young man.

"Evil? why, boy, they are heathens, or Jews, or Mahommedans at the
least, and neither worship Our Lady, nor the Saints" (crossin