"Mine ears are stunned with your vociferations," replied the Scot. "You ask me who James Crichton is, and yourselves give the response. You have mockingly said he is a _rara avis_; a prodigy of wit and learning: and you have unintentionally spoken the truth. He is so. But I will tell you that of him of which you are wholly ignorant, or which you have designedly overlooked. His condition is that of a Scottish gentleman of high rank. Like your Spanish grandee, he need not doff his cap to kings. On either side hath he the best of blood in his veins. His mother was a Stuart directly descended from that regal line. His father, who owneth the fair domains of Eliock and Cluny, was Lord Advocate to our bonny and luckless Mary (whom Heaven assoilzie!) and still holds his high office. Methinks the Lairds of Crichton might have been heard of here. Howbeit, they are well known to me, who being an Ogilvy of Balfour, have often heard tell of a certain contract or obligation, whereby--" "_Basta!_" interrupted the Spaniard, "heed not thine own affairs, worthy Scot. Tell us of this Crichton--ha!" "I have told you already more than I ought to have told," replied Ogilvy, sullenly. "And if you lack further information respecting James Crichton's favor at the Louvre, his feats of arms, and the esteem in which he is held by all the dames of honor in attendance upon your Queen Mother, Catherine de' Medicis--and moreover," he added, with somewhat of sarcasm, "with her fair daughter, Marguerite de Valois--you will do well to address yourself to the king's buffoon, Maître Chicot, whom I see not far off. Few there are, methinks, who could in such short space have won so much favor, or acquired such bright renown." "Humph!" muttered the Englishman, "your Scotsmen stick by each other all the world over. This James Crichton may or may not be the hero he is vaunted, but I shall mistrust his praises from that quarter, till I find their truth confirmed." "He has, to be sure, acquired the character of a stout swords-man," said the Bernardin, "to give the poor devil his due." "He has not met with his match at the _salle-d'armes_, though he has crossed blades with the first in France," replied Ogilvy. "I have seen him at the Manége," said the Sorbonist, "go through his course of equitation, and being a not altogether unskillful horseman myself, I can report favorably of his performance." "There is none among your youth can sit a steed like him," returned Ogilvy, "nor can any of the jousters carry off the ring with more certainty at the lists. I would fain hold my tongue, but you enforce me to speak in his praise."