"We have not forgot it," said Duke Charles; "and it is a sign that we keep the action in remembrance, that you have been suffered to stand before us so long, pleading the cause of a set of rascals, whom we are required to spare from the gallows that groans for them, because forsooth they have been the fellow-travellers of the Earl of Oxford!" "Not so, my lord. I ask their lives, only because they are upon a peaceful errand, and the leaders amongst them, at least, have no accession to the crime of which you complain." The Duke traversed the apartment with unequal steps in much agitation, his large eyebrows drawn down over his eyes, his hands clenched, and his teeth set, until at length he seemed to take a resolution. He rung a handbell of silver, which stood upon his table. "Here, Contay," he said to the gentleman of his chamber who entered, "are these mountain fellows yet executed?" "No, may it please your Highness; but the executioner waits them so soon as the priest hath confessed them." "Let them live," said the Duke. "We will hear to-morrow in what manner they propose to justify their proceedings towards us." Contay bowed and left the apartment; then turning to the Englishman, the Duke said, with an indescribable mixture of haughtiness with familiarity and even kindness, but having his brows cleared, and his looks composed,--"We are now clear of obligation, my Lord of Oxford--you have obtained life for life--nay, to make up some inequality which there may be betwixt the value of the commodities bestowed, you have obtained six lives for one. I will, therefore, pay no more attention to you, should you again upbraid me with the stumbling horse at Mont L'Hery, or your own achievements on that occasion. Most princes are contented with privately hating such men as have rendered them extraordinary services--I feel no such disposition--I only detest being reminded of having had occasion for them.--Pshaw! I am half choked with the effort of foregoing my own fixed resolution.--So ho! who waits there? Bring me to drink." An usher entered, bearing a large silver flagon, which, instead of wine, was filled with ptisan slightly flavoured by aromatic herbs. "I am so hot and choleric by nature," said the Duke, "that our leeches prohibit me from drinking wine. But you, Oxford, are bound by no such regimen. Get thee to thy countryman, Colvin, the general of our artillery. We commend thee to his custody and hospitality till to-morrow, which must be a busy day, since I expect to receive the answer of these wiseacres of the Dijon assembly of estates; and have also to hear (thanks to your lordship's interference) these miserable Swiss envoys, as they call themselves. Well, no more on't.--Good-night. You may communicate freely with Colvin, who is, like yourself, an old Lancastrian.--But hark ye, not a word respecting Provence--not even in your sleep.--Contay, conduct this English gentleman to Colvin's tent. He knows my pleasure respecting him."