name of the most noble Orleans, while he was ready to take the whole
blame on his own shoulders, and to avouch that the Duke had only come
thither in friendship to him.

Lord Crawford continued listening with his eyes fixed on the ground,
and from time to time he sighed and shook his head. At length he said,
looking up, "Thou knowest, Dunois, that, for thy father's sake, as well
as thine own, I would full fain do thee a service."

"It is not for myself I demand anything," answered Dunois. "Thou hast my
sword, and I am your prisoner--what needs more? But it is for this noble
Prince, the only hope of France, if God should call the Dauphin. He only
came hither to do me a favour--in an effort to make my fortune--in a
matter which the King had partly encouraged."

"Dunois," replied Crawford, "if another had told me thou hadst brought
the noble Prince into this jeopardy to serve any purpose of thine own, I
had told him it was false. And now that thou dost pretend so thyself, I
can hardly believe it is for the sake of speaking the truth."

"Noble Crawford," said Orleans, who had now entirely recovered from his
swoon, "you are too like in character to your friend Dunois, not to do
him justice. It was indeed I that dragged him hither, most unwillingly,
upon an enterprise of harebrained passion, suddenly and rashly
undertaken.--Look on me all who will," he added, rising up and turning
to the soldiery, "I am Louis of Orleans, willing to pay the penalty of
my own folly. I trust the King will limit his displeasure to me, as is
but just.--Meanwhile, as a Child of France must not give up his sword to
any one--not even to you, brave Crawford--fare thee well, good steel."

So saying, he drew his sword from its scabbard, and flung it into the
lake. It went through the air like a stream of lightning, and sank
in the flashing waters, which speedily closed over it. All remained
standing in irresolution and astonishment, so high was the rank, and
so much esteemed was the character, of the culprit, while, at the same
time, all were conscious that the consequences of his rash enterprise,
considering the views which the King had upon him, were likely to end in
his utter ruin.

Dunois was the first who spoke, and it was in the chiding tone of an
offended and distrusted friend: "So! your Highness hath judged it fit to
cast away your best sword, in the same morning when it was your pleasure
to fling away the King's favour, and to slight the