"You!" exclaimed Gabriel, recoiling from him with a motion of inexpressible contempt. "In the name of my master, Lord Grey, Monseigneur," replied the modest archer, "you are named as one of the fifty prisoners whom Monseigneur l'Amiral is to put in the hands of the victors. Don't blame poor me for being forced to be the bearer of this unpleasant information." "Blame you for it!" said Gabriel, "no! But Lord Grey, a gentleman, forsooth! might have taken the trouble to ask me for my sword himself. It is to him that I desire to hand it; do you understand?" "As Monseigneur pleases." "And I am glad to believe that he will accept a ransom for me?" "Oh, never fear, never fear, Monseigneur!" said the archer, eagerly. "I am at your service, then," said Gabriel. "But this is an indignity," cried Jean Peuquoy. "You do wrong to submit thus, Monseigneur. Refuse to go; for you are not of St. Quentin,--you are not of the town!" "Master Jean Peuquoy is right," Arnauld du Thill earnestly interposed, stealthily making a sign to the archer to denounce the citizen to him. "Yes, Master Jean Peuquoy has put his finger upon the truth: Monseigneur is not of St. Quentin; and Master Jean Peuquoy knows it. Yes, indeed, he knows the whole town! He has been burgher for forty years, and syndic of his guild, and captain of the bowmen! What have you to say to that, Englishman?" "I have just this to say," replied the Briton, who had taken his cue,--"that if this is Master Jean Peuquoy, I have an order to arrest him too, for his name is on my list." "Me!" ejaculated the worthy burgher. "Even you, Master," was the response. Peuquoy looked inquiringly at Gabriel. "Alas, Messire Jean," said Vicomte d'Exmès, sighing in spite of himself, "I think that our best plan, after having done our duty as soldiers during the battle, will be to bow to the rights of the victors, now that the battle is done. Let us submit, Master Jean Peuquoy." "And go with this fellow?" asked Peuquoy. "To be sure, my good friend; and glad am I in this latest trial not to be separated from you." "That is very true, Monseigneur," said Peuquoy, with emotion; "and you are very kind to say it. Besides, when such a noble and gallant captain as yourself accepts his lot with equanimity, ought an unfortunate burgher like myself to complain? Let us go. Varlet," he went on, addressing the archer, "it is done; and I am your prisoner or your master's." "Remember that you are going with me to Lord Grey's quarters," rejoined the archer, "where you will remain, if you please, until you have furnished a handsome ransom." "Where I will remain forever, son of the evil one!" cried Jean Peuquoy. "Your English master shall never know the color of my crowns; I will die first. If he is a Christian, he will have to support me until my last hour; and I forewarn you that I am a very hearty eater."