d adventurous youth readily nourished in
a romantic and adventurous age, chased from his eyes the bodily
presentiment of the actual scene, and substituted their own bewildering
delusions, when at once, and rudely, they were banished by a rough grasp
laid upon his weapon, and a harsh voice which exclaimed, close to his
ear, "Ha! Pasques dieu, Sir Squire, methinks you keep sleepy ward."

The voice was the tuneless, yet impressive and ironical tone of Maitre
Pierre, and Quentin, suddenly recalled to himself, saw, with shame and
fear, that he had, in his reverie, permitted Louis himself--entering
probably by some secret door, and gliding along by the wall, or behind
the tapestry--to approach him so nearly as almost to master his weapon.

The first impulse of his surprise was to free his harquebuss by a
violent exertion, which made the King stagger backward into the hall.
His next apprehension was that, in obeying the animal instinct, as it
may be termed, which prompts a brave man to resist an attempt to disarm
him, he had aggravated, by a personal struggle with the King, the
displeasure produced by the negligence with which he had performed his
duty upon guard; and, under this impression, he recovered his harquebuss
without almost knowing what he did, and, having again shouldered it,
stood motionless before the Monarch, whom he had reason to conclude he
had mortally offended.

Louis, whose tyrannical disposition was less founded on natural ferocity
or cruelty of temper, than on cold blooded policy and jealous suspicion,
had, nevertheless, a share of that caustic severity which would have
made him a despot in private conversation, and he always seemed to enjoy
the pain which he inflicted on occasions like the present. But he
did not push his triumph far, and contented himself with saying, "Thy
service of the morning hath already overpaid some negligence in so young
a soldier.--Hast thou dined?"

Quentin, who rather looked to be sent to the Provost Marshal than
greeted with such a compliment, answered humbly in the negative.

"Poor lad," said Louis, in a softer tone than he usually spoke in,
"hunger hath made him drowsy.--I know thine appetite is a wolf," he
continued; "and I will save thee from one wild beast as thou didst me
from another; thou hast been prudent too in that matter, and I thank
thee for it.--Canst thou yet hold out an hour without food?"

"Four-and-twenty, Sire," replied Durward, "or I were no true Scot.