y came in sight of the whole front of the
Castle of Plessis-les-Tours.

"I have some friend to see in this quarter," said Durward. "My mother's
own brother, Ludovic Lesly--an honest and noble name."

"And so it is I doubt not," said the old man. "But of three Leslies in
the Scottish Guard two are called Ludovic."

"They call my kinsman Ludovic with the Scar," said Quentin.

"The man you speak of we, I think, call Le Balafre; from that scar on
his face," answered his companion. "A proper man and a good soldier. Men
call me Maitre Pierre--a plain man. I owe you a breakfast, Master Quentin,
for the wetting my mistake procured you."

While they were speaking they reached the entrance of the village of
Plessis, and presently approached the court-yard of an inn of unusual
magnitude.

Maitre Pierre lifted the latch of the side door, and led the way into a
large room, where arrangements had been made for a substantial
breakfast. He whistled and the landlord entered, and bowed with
reverence.

Quentin Durward had eaten little for two days, and Maitre Pierre seemed
delighted with the appetite of the young Scot, who indeed devoured an
enormous repast. When his appetite had been satisfied, and the old man
had put several questions, the door opened, and a girl, whose
countenance, so young and so lovely, was graver, Quentin thought, than
belongs to an early beauty, entered with a platter and a cup of delicate
workmanship.

"How now, Jacqueline?" said Maitre Pierre. "Did I not desire that Dame
Perette should bring what I wanted? But I blame thee not, thou art too
young to be--what thou must be one day--a false and treacherous thing,
like the rest of thy giddy sex. Here is a Scottish cavalier will tell
you the same."

But Durward, with the feelings of youth, answered hastily, "That he
would throw down his gage to any antagonist, of equal rank and equal
age, who should presume to say such a countenance as that which he now
looked upon could be animated by other than the purest and the truest
mind."

The young woman grew deadly pale, and cast an apprehensive glance upon
Maitre Pierre, in whom the bravado of the young gallant seemed only to
excite laughter.

Jacqueline vanished, and Maitre Pierre, after filling a goblet with
silver pieces, and bidding Quentin Durward take it and remain in the
hostelry until he had seen his kinsman, Le Balafre, also left the
apartment.

Within a short time Ludovic Lesly, or Le Balafre (as