e Castle, or
Citadel of Peronne, by the Chamberlains and harbingers of the Duke of
Burgundy, and received at the entrance by a strong guard of archers and
men at arms.

As he descended from his horse to cross the drawbridge, over a moat of
unusual width and depth, he looked on the sentinels, and observed to
Comines, who accompanied him, with other Burgundian nobles, "They wear
Saint Andrew's crosses--but not those of my Scottish Archers."

"You will find them as ready to die in your defence, Sire," said the
Burgundian, whose sagacious ear had detected in the King's tone of
speech a feeling which doubtless Louis would have concealed if he could.
"They wear the Saint Andrew's Cross as the appendage of the collar of
the Golden Fleece, my master the Duke of Burgundy's Order."

"Do I not know it?" said Louis, showing the collar which he himself wore
in compliment to his host. "It is one of the dear bonds of fraternity
which exist between my kind brother and myself. We are brothers in
chivalry, as in spiritual relationship; cousins by birth, and friends by
every tie of kind feeling and good neighbourhood.--No farther than the
base court, my noble lords and gentlemen! I can permit your attendance
no farther--you have done me enough of grace."

"We were charged by the Duke," said D'Hymbercourt, "to bring your
Majesty to your lodging.--We trust your Majesty will permit us to obey
our master's command."

"In this small matter," said the King, "I trust you will allow my
command to outweigh his, even with you his liege subjects.--I am
something indisposed, my lords--something fatigued. Great pleasure hath
its toils, as well as great pain. I trust to enjoy your society better
tomorrow.--And yours, too, Seignior Philip of Comines--I am told you are
the annalist of the time--we that desire to have a name in history
must speak you fair, for men say your pen hath a sharp point, when you
will.--Goodnight, my lords and gentles, to all and each of you."

The Lords of Burgundy retired, much pleased with the grace of Louis's
manner, and the artful distribution of his attentions; and the King
was left with only one or two of his own personal followers, under the
archway of the base court of the Castle of Peronne, looking on the huge
tower which occupied one of the angles, being in fact the Donjon, or
principal Keep, of the palace. This tall, dark, massive building was
seen clearly by the same moon which was lighting Quentin Durward
bet