"Generosity with heartless people is folly." "Oh! Joyeuse, Joyeuse, you do not know this woman." "No, I do not wish to know her." "Why not?" "Because she would make me commit what others would call a crime, but which I should call an act of justice." "Oh! my good brother, how lucky you are not to be in love. But, if you please, let us leave my foolish love, and talk of other things." "So be it; I do not like to talk of your folly." "You see we want provisions." "Yes, and I have thought of a method of getting them." "What is it?" "I cannot leave here until I have certain news of the army--for the position is good, and I could defend myself against five times our number: but I may send out a body of scouts, and they will bring news and provisions also, for Flanders is a fine country." "Not very, brother." "I speak of it as God made it, and not men, who eternally spoil the works of God. Do you know, Henri, what folly this prince committed--what this unlucky Francois has lost through pride and precipitation? His soul is gone to God, so let us be silent; but in truth he might have acquired immortal glory and one of the most beautiful kingdoms in Europe, while he has, on the contrary, aided no one but William of Orange. But do you know, Henri, that the Antwerpians fought well?" "And you also; so they say, brother." "Yes, it was one of my good days; and besides there was something that excited me." "What was it?" "I met on the field of battle a sword that I knew." "French?" "Yes, French." "In the ranks of the Flemings?" "At their head, Henri; this is a secret which forms a sequel to Salcede's business." "However, dear brother, here you are, safe and sound, to my great joy; I, who have done nothing yet, must do something, also." "And what will you do?" "Give me the command of your scouts, I beg." "No, it is too dangerous, Henri; I would not say so before strangers, but I do not wish you to die an obscure death. The scouts may meet with some of those horrid Flemings who fight with flails and scythes; you kill one thousand of them, and the last cuts you in two or disfigures you. No, Henri; if you will die, let it be a more glorious death than that." "My brother, grant me what I ask, I beg; I promise you to be prudent, and to return here." "Well, I understand." "What?" "You wish to try if the fame of a brave action will not soften the heart of this ferocious tigress. Confess that that is what makes you insist on it." "I will confess it if you wish, brother." "Well, you are right. Women who resist a great love sometimes yield to fame." "I do not hope that." "If you do it without this hope you are mad. Henri, seek no more reasons for this woman's refusal than that she has neither eyes nor heart." "You give me the command, brother?" "I must, if you will have it so." "Can I go to-night?" "You must, Henri; you understand we cannot wait long." "How many men do you give me?"