But France shall not have it; that I swear upon my
knighthood. Write to France, my Lord Bishop of Cambrai, and tell King
Louis that my daughter shall not marry his son. Waste no words, my Lord
Bishop, in what you call courtesy. We need no double meaning in our
missives."
Those who heard the duke's words knew that he was committing a costly
error, but no one dared to suggest as much. One might, with equal
success, have flung soft words at a mad bull. Truly that "t"--but I will
speak of it no more, though I have a thrill of joy and mirth even now
when I think of it.
After many explosions, the duke's pent-up wrath found vent, and began to
subside. Espying Max and me he called us to the throne.
"Have you concluded to join us in our little holiday excursion against
these mountain swine?" asked His Grace, addressing us.
"We have, my lord. We shall be proud to serve under the banner of so
brave a prince," I answered.
"'We have' would have been sufficient, Sir Karl," answered the duke,
still surly from the dregs of his wrath. "We hear so many soft words
from France that we despise them in the mouths of honest men."
The duke then turned to his seneschal, De Vergy, and spoke in tones that
were heard all over the room:--
"My lord, Maximilian, Count of Hapsburg, and Sir Karl de Pitti have
consented to join our banners. Enroll them in places of honor, my Lord
Seneschal. See that they are supplied with horses, accoutrements, and
tents for themselves and their squires, and direct my Lord Treasurer to
pay to them upon demand a sum of money of which he shall be duly
notified.
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