"

"I would not for another kingdom be the pasty which should encounter
thee after such a vigil," said the King; "but the question now is,
not of thy dinner, but of my own. I admit to my table this day, and in
strict privacy, the Cardinal Balue and this Burgundian--this Count de
Crevecoeur--and something may chance; the devil is most busy when foes
meet on terms of truce."

He stopped, and remained silent, with a deep and gloomy look. As the
King was in no haste to proceed, Quentin at length ventured to ask what
his duty was to be in these circumstances.

"To keep watch at the beauffet, with thy loaded weapon," said Louis;
"and if there is treason, to shoot the traitor."

"Treason, Sire! and in this guarded castle!" exclaimed Durward.

"You think it impossible," said the King, not offended, it would seem,
by his frankness; "but our history has shown that treason can creep into
an auger hole.--Treason excluded by guards! Oh, thou silly boy!--quis
custodiat ipsos custodes--who shall exclude the treason of those very
warders?"

"Their Scottish honour," answered Durward, boldly.

"True: most right:--thou pleasest me," said the King, cheerfully;
"the Scottish honour was ever true, and I trust it accordingly. But
treason!"--here he relapsed into his former gloomy mood, and traversed
the apartment with unequal steps--"she sits at our feasts, she sparkles
in our bowls, she wears the beard of our counsellors, the smiles of our
courtiers, the crazy laugh of our jesters--above all, she lies hid under
the friendly air of a reconciled enemy. Louis of Orleans trusted John of
Burgundy--he was murdered in the Rue Barbette. John of Burgundy trusted
the faction of Orleans--he was murdered on the bridge of Montereau.--I
will trust no one--no one. Hark ye; I will keep my eye on that insolent
Count; ay, and on the churchman too, whom I hold not too faithful. When
I say, Ecosse, en avant [Forward, Scotland], shoot Crevecoeur dead on
the spot."

"It is my duty," said Quentin, "your Majesty's life being endangered."

"Certainly--I mean it no otherwise," said the King. "What should I get
by slaying this insolent soldier?--Were it the Constable Saint Paul
indeed"--here he paused, as if he thought he had said a word too much,
but resumed, laughing, "our brother-in-law, James of Scotland--your own
James, Quentin--poniarded the Douglas when on a hospitable visit, within
his own royal castle of Skirling."

[Douglas: the allusion in the t