hts, and, if we were to try
to force our way, these fellows, whose everyday business is war, might
make wild work of us that only fight of a holyday."

"But why has he secured the gates?" said the alarmed burgher, "or what
business hath he to make honest men prisoners?"

"I cannot tell--not I," said Peter. "Some noise there is about the
Ladies of Croye, who have escaped during the storm of the castle. That
first put the Man with the Beard beside himself with anger, and now he
's beside himself with drink also."

The Burgomaster cast a disconsolate look towards Quentin, and seemed
at a loss what to resolve upon. Durward, who had not lost a word of the
conversation, which alarmed him very much, saw nevertheless that their
only safety depended on his preserving his own presence of mind,
and sustaining the courage of Pavillon. He struck boldly into
the conversation, as one who had a right to have a voice in the
deliberation.

"I am ashamed," he said, "Meinheer Pavillon, to observe you hesitate
what to do on this occasion. Go boldly to William de la Marck, and
demand free leave to quit the castle, you, your lieutenant, your squire,
and your daughter. He can have no pretence for keeping you prisoner."

"For me and my lieutenant--that is myself and Peter?--Good--but who is
my squire?"

"I am for the present," replied the undaunted Scot.

"You!" said the embarrassed burgess, "but are you not the envoy of King
Louis of France?"

"True, but my message is to the magistrates of Liege--and only in Liege
will I deliver it.--Were I to acknowledge my quality before William de
la Marck, must I not enter into negotiations with him? Ay, and, it is
like, be detained by him. You must get me secretly out of the castle in
the capacity of your squire."

"Good--my squire--but you spoke of my daughter--my daughter is, I trust,
safe in my house in Liege--where I wish her father was, with all my
heart and soul."

"This lady," said Durward, "will call you father while we are in this
place."

"And for my whole life afterwards," said the Countess, throwing herself
at the citizen's feet, and clasping his knees.

"Never shall the day pass in which I will not honour you, love you, and
pray for you as a daughter for a father, if you will but aid me in this
fearful strait.--Oh, be not hard hearted! Think, your own daughter may
kneel to a stranger, to ask him for life and honour--think of this, and
give me the protection you would wish her