ent me of the words spoken to you
by that Morvilliers, and that before a year was over. Piques-Dieu,
you've kept your promise, and before the end of the year has come. I
like to have to do with folks who hold to what they promise." This he
said laughingly, knowing well that this language was just the sort of
flattery to touch the Count of Charolais. They walked for a long while
together on the river's bank, to the great curiosity of their people, who
were surprised to see them conversing on such good terms. They talked of
possible conditions of peace, both of them displaying considerable
pliancy, save the king touching the duchy of Normandy, which he would not
at any price, he said, confer on his brother the Duke of Berry, and the
Count of Charolais touching his enmity towards the house of Croy, with
which he was determined not to be reconciled. At parting, the king
invited the count to Paris, where he would make him great cheer. "My
lord," said Charles, "I have made a vow not to enter any good town until
my return." The king smiled; gave fifty golden crowns for distribution,
to drink his health, amongst the count's archers, and once more got
aboard of his boat. Shortly after getting back to Paris he learned that
Normandy was lost to him. The widow of the seneschal, De Breze, lately
killed at Montlhery, forgetful of all the king's kindnesses and against
the will of her own son, whom Louis had appointed seneschal of Normandy
after his father's death, had just handed over Rouen to the Duke of
Bourbon, one of the most determined chiefs of the League. Louis at once
took his course. He sent to demand an interview with the Count of
Charolais, and repaired to Conflans with a hundred Scots of his guard.
There was a second edition of the walk together. Charles knew nothing as
yet about the surrender of Rouen; and Louis lost no time in telling him
of it before he had leisure for reflection and for magnifying his
pretensions. "Since the Normans," said he, "have of themselves felt
disposed for such a novelty, so be it! I should never of my own free
will have conferred such an appanage on my brother; but, as the thing is
done, I give my consent." And he at the same time assented to all the
other conditions which had formed the subject of conversation.

In proportion to the resignation displayed by the king was the joy of the
Count of Charolais at seeing himself so near to peace. Everything was
going wrong with his ar