The uttering of this cry was part of the festival, and the guest who failed to join in it risked a severe penalty. Sieur Guillaume, seeing that the flagons were empty, ordered more wine to be brought, and the servants grated the horse-radish which should stimulate the thirst of the guests. "To the health of Monsignor, Bishop of Troyes and of the Regent of France," said Sieur Guillaume, rising from his canonical seat. "Right willingly, sieur," said Thibault of Saulges, knight. "But it is an open secret that our Bishop is disputing with the Regent touching the double tithe which Monsignor of Bedford is exacting from Churchmen, under the pretext of financing the Crusade against the Hussites. Thus we are about to mingle in one toast the healths of two enemies." "Ha ha!" replied Sieur Guillaume. "But healths are proposed for peace and not for war. I drink to King Henry VI's Regent of France and to the health of Monsignor, Bishop of Troyes, whom we all elected two years ago." The canons, raising their goblets, drank to the health of the Bishop and of the Regent Bedford. Meanwhile there was raised at the bottom of the table a young and as yet piping voice, which cried: "To the health of the Dauphin Louis, the true King of France!" It was the little Pierrolet, whose Armagnac sympathies, heated by the canon's wine, were finding expression. No one took any notice, and Sieur Guillaume having drunk again they all cried in chorus: "The King drinks! The King drinks!" The guests, all speaking at once, were noisily discussing matters both sacred and profane. "Have you heard," said Thibault de Saulges, "that the Regent has sent ten thousand English to take Orleans?" "In that case," said Sieur Guillaume, "the town will fall into their hands, as have already Jargeau and Beaugency, and so many good cities of the kingdom." "That remains to be seen!" said the little Pierrolet, growing red. But, he being at the far end of the table, once again no one heard him. "Let us drink, monsignors," said Sieur Guillaume, who was doing the honours of his table lavishly. And he set the example by raising his great cup of silver gilt. More loudly than ever the cry resounded: "The King drinks! The King drinks!" But after the thunder of the toast had rolled away, Sieur Pierre Corneille, who was seated rather low down at the table, said bitterly: "Monsignors, I denounce the little Pierrolet. He did not cry 'The King drinks!' Thereby he has transgressed our rights and customs, and he must be punished." "He must be punished!" repeated in chorus Sieurs Denys Petit and Barnabe Videloup. "Let chastisement be meted out to him," said, in his turn, Sieur Guillaume. "His hands and face must be smeared with soot, for such is the custom." "It is the custom!" cried all the canons together.