sies, and not in fair
fighting. Now, for me, I am of the Douglases' mind, who always kept the
fields, because they loved better to hear the lark sing than the mouse
squeak."

"Young man," said Maitre Pierre, "do not judge too rashly of the actions
of sovereigns. Louis seeks to spare the blood of his subjects, and cares
not for his own. He showed himself a man of courage at Montl'hery."

"Ay, but that was some dozen years ago or more," answered the youth--"I
should like to follow a master that would keep his honour as bright
as his shield, and always venture foremost in the very throng of the
battle."

"Why did you not tarry at Brussels, then, with the Duke of Burgundy?
He would put you in the way to have your bones broken every day; and,
rather than fail, would do the job for you himself--especially if he
heard that you had beaten his forester."

"Very true," said Quentin; "my unhappy chance has shut that door against
me."

"Nay, there are plenty of daredevils abroad, with whom mad youngsters
may find service," said his adviser. "What think you, for example, of
William de la Marck?"

"What!" exclaimed Durward, "serve Him with the Beard--serve the Wild
Boar of Ardennes--a captain of pillagers and murderers, who would take
a man's life for the value of his gaberdine, and who slays priests and
pilgrims as if they were so many lance knights and men at arms? It would
be a blot on my father's scutcheon for ever."

"Well, my young hot blood," replied Maitre Pierre, "if you hold the
Sanglier [Wild Boar] too unscrupulous, wherefore not follow the young
Duke of Gueldres?"

[Adolphus, son of Arnold and of Catherine de Bourbon.... He made war
against his father; in which unnatural strife he made the old man
prisoner, and used him with the most brutal violence, proceeding, it
is said, even to the length of striking him with his hand. Arnold, in
resentment of this usage, disinherited the unprincipled wretch, and sold
to Charles of Burgundy whatever rights he had over the duchy of Gueldres
and earldom of Zutphen.... S.]

"Follow the foul fiend as soon," said Quentin. "Hark in your ear--he is
a burden too heavy for earth to carry--hell gapes for him! Men say that
he keeps his own father imprisoned, and that he has even struck him--can
you believe it?"

Maitre Pierre seemed somewhat disconcerted with the naive horror with
which the young Scotsman spoke of filial ingratitude, and he answered,
"You know not, young man, how s