Chapter 15 Chapter 15 Wizard

He told me he was the son of an Egyptian, The descendants of those dreadful wizards. They were when the Israelites lived in Goshen, waging harsh war against israel and its prophets wrestled with the sons of the Levites, Respond to the miracle of the LORD with a curse, until the avenging angel came to Egypt, Proud saints, like illiterate peasants, Weep for their children. anonymous The duel we have described in the last chapter was stopped at once by the arrival of the Duke of Crawford and his bodyguard.The knight took off his helmet and hurriedly handed the sword to the old Grand Duke, saying: Crawford, I will disarm you.But for God's sake let me say something to you Save the Duke of Orleans!

Why?what happened?Duke of Orleans!cried the Captain of the Scotch Guard, what the hell are you up to?This would make the young man forever abandoned by the king. Stop asking.Dunova said.It turned out that he was the knight.It's all my fault, and look, he's waking up.I'm here to grab a kiss.I'm going to snatch that girl as a kiss.It turned out like this.Call your gang over, please, and don't let him be seen.So saying he opened the visor of Orléans, and sprinkled his face with water drawn from a lake near by. At this time Quentin.Darwilt stood bewildered as if possessed, for he was really bewildered by the flood of unexpected events.The pale face of the first opponent he confronted made him understand that it was the first prince of French royal blood that he had knocked down, and that he had just confronted the best warrior in France, the famous Dunois.Both achievements are honorable, but whether this counts as serving the king, and how the king himself views it, is a completely different question.

The duke's breathing normalized, and he was able to sit up and hear the conversation between Dunois and Crawford.At this moment Dunois was eager to plead that it was unnecessary to mention the name of the noblest Orléans in this matter, and he was ready to take all the blame, and swore that the duke had only come here to help him. Grand Duke Crawford looked down at the ground and continued to listen to his defense, sighing and shaking his head from time to time.At last he raised his head and said: You know, Dunois, for your father's sake as well as yours, I would be glad to do you a favor.

I don't ask for anything for myself, said Dunois. I have disarmed you. Is it not enough to be your prisoner?I do this for the noble prince.If God willed him to be crown prince, he would be France's only hope.He's only here to do me a favor and to make my happiness do something the king has given me some sort of encouragement to do. Dunois, replied Crawford, if anyone tells me that you put the noble prince in danger to help you achieve some purpose, I'll tell him it's a lie.And now that you're putting on such an air of your own, I really find it hard to believe that it's for the sake of stating the facts.

Noble Crawford, said Orleans, now fully awake from his stupor, you and your friend Dunois, who are so like in character, will certainly do justice to him.It's true that I've dragged him here to do this sensual, frivolous thing.Everyone is willing to look at me, he stood up and said to the soldiers, I am Orleans.Louie, willing to take punishment for my stupidity.I trust that the king will have a limit to which I can be blamed, and that is perfectly just.But as Prince of France I shall not give the sword to anyone, not even you brave Crawford Farewell, my fine sword. After saying that, he pulled out his sword and threw it into the lake.It flew away like a white light, fell into the shining lake, and was swallowed up by the water in an instant.So high was the stature of the offender, so esteemed in character, that people stood bewildered and amazed.Considering the hopes which the King had placed in him, every one realized that the consequences of this indiscretion might ruin him entirely.

It was Dunois who was the first to break the silence; he said reproachfully, like a friend who is very angry when his loyalty is doubted: Well!Your Highness deliberately abandoned the king's favor to you, despised Dunoir's friendship to you, and threw away your best sword on the same morning? My dear cousin, said the duke, How could I be willing to disparage your friendship by telling the truth, when your safety and my honour were at stake? What does my being the prince's cousin have to do with my safety?Dunois replied angrily, "For God's sake, if I have the will to be hanged, strangled, or thrown into the Loire, hacked, wrecked, hung alive in an iron cage, What does it matter to you to be buried alive in the moats of the castle, or to be disposed of by King Louis in any way he pleases with his loyal subjects? (You don't have to wink, point at Triston Lermitre. I see the villain as much as you do.) You know, all these punishments don't make me feel as bad as I do now. It's about my personal safety.As for your own honor, by St. Magdalene's blushes, I think it consists in not doing anything like this morning at all, and not being seen if you do.Behold your highness being unhorsed by a savage Scotch boy.

Don't say that, don't say that!Grand Duke Crawford said, don't embarrass Your Highness with this matter.It's not the first time the Scottish doll has shown her skills with a spear.I was delighted to see the bravery of this young man. I don't want to disagree, Dunois said, but if Your Excellency arrives a little later, there may be a vacancy in your guard. Yes, yes, replied Grand Duke Crawford, I think that cracked helmet is your masterpiece.Somebody take off the steel helmet for the lad, and give him a hat with a steel lining.I figured he'd be better than that asshole in it.Having said that, I also want to remind my lord that your own insurance armor still leaves many traces of Scotch masterpieces.But, Dunois, I must ask the Duke of Orléans and yourself to mount and come with me.I have the right and the responsibility to take you where my personal kindness would not have taken you.

Grand Duke Crawford, may I say a word to those two beautiful ladies?asked the Duke of Orleans. Not a word, replied the Duke of Crawford, that my lordship and I have a deep friendship that prevents me from allowing you to do such a fool.Then he turned to Quentin and said: Young man, you have done your duty.Go ahead and follow your orders. Your honor, said Triston, with his usual savagery, the young man must find another guide.I can't do without little Andre.Seeing that he has work to do. The young man, said little Andrei, had only to go down the straight road ahead, and he would come to a place where he would find a guide who should show him the way.Even if you give me a thousand gold coins today, I won't leave my boss!I've hanged many knights and squires, plus rich magistrates and mayors and even earls and marquises have tasted my tricks But he looked at the Duke of Orleans as if to suggest that the pause should speak of a prince of royal blood !Heh, heh, heh!Little Andrei, your name will be read in the memorabilia!

Do you let your scoundrel speak wild words in front of such people?Crawford looked at Triston and said sternly. My lord, why don't you punish him yourself?said Triston sullenly. Because you're the only one standing here who can hit him without degrading himself. Then my lord, you take care of your own people, and I take care of my own people.said the Military Advocate Director. Crawford seemed to want to give him an angry answer, but he seemed to have a few thoughts, held back and just turned around to ignore him politely.He asked the Duke of Orléans and Dunoy to ride with him on both sides, then made a gesture of farewell to the two ladies, and said to Quentin: God bless you, my child.You have acted valiantly since the beginning of your service, despite the unpleasantness of the matter itself.He was about to set off when Quentin suddenly heard Dunois whisper to Crawford: Do you want to take us to the Plessy Palace?

No, my reckless and unfortunate friends, sighed Crawford, I will take you to Roger. To Roger!The castle, more formidable than the Palais de Plessy, was more properly the name of the prison than death knell to the young Scot's ears.He had heard it said that it was a place of secret tortures; for the punishments were so cruel that even Louis was ashamed to use his own chambers to provide the venue for them, and to sully the reputation of his palace.In this spooky castle there are dungeons under dungeons, some of which even the warders don't know about.They were living graves into which a man could do nothing but breathe foul air and live on bread and water.In this fortified castle there are also terrible cages called cages.The unfortunate prisoner could neither stand up straight nor stretch his back.It is said that this is a great invention of Cardinal Ballou (original note: he himself stayed in one of the cages for more than eleven years.).The young Scot was naturally distressed to hear the name of this dreadful prison, and to realize that he himself had been partly responsible for sending so eminent noblemen there.He walked dejectedly for some distance, his eyes fixed on the ground, and his heart was filled with painful thoughts.

As he resumed walking ahead of the little party, along the path indicated for him, Lady Hamelin seized the opportunity to say to him: Good sir, I suppose you are sorry that you won us the victory with your valor? The question may sound sarcastic, but Quentin tactfully gave a simple and sincere answer: I have no regrets doing anything for ladies like you.However, if it does not violate your security interests, I would rather die by the sword of such a warrior as Dunois than see myself prompting the sending of this famous knight and his unfortunate boss, the Duke of Orleans, to the terrible dungeon. It turned out that it was the Duke of Orleans, said the elder lady, turning to her niece. I had guessed it was this man, though we watched their confrontation from a distance.You see, my good niece, how different we would be if that cunning and greedy king had let us appear at court.This first prince of French royal blood, this heroic Dunois, as famous as his brave father, well, the young gentleman did his duty bravely, but it is a pity that he did not bow with dignity. , because his unwise bravery hindered our salvation by these two princes and nobles. Mademoiselle Isabel answered in a tone that was firm and almost displeased, a tone of force that Quentin had never heard her use. Madame, said she, if I had not known that you were jesting, I should say that what you say is ungrateful to our brave protector.We owe him perhaps more than we can imagine.If the indiscretion of those two gentlemen succeeds in defeating our defenders, shall we not be prisoners like them when the royal guards come?For my part, I express my condolences to the heroic victim, for whom I shall soon be saying Mass; and I trust (she went on, more timidly) that the living will have my heartfelt gratitude. Quentin turned to her to express his due thanks.Then she saw the blood trickling down the side of his face, and she cried out affectionately: Our Lady!He is wounded and bleeding!Sir, get off your horse and let me stab your wounds. In spite of Davelt's insistence that his injury was insignificant, he had to dismount from his horse, take off his helmet, and sit down on a mound, while the two Croyles, who, according to the custom still in fashion at the time, thought they knew a lot about medicine, were obliged to dismount. The ladies began to wash his wound, to stop the bleeding, and bound it up with the young countess' kerchief, keeping it out of the air, as was their custom. In our time it is rare for warriors to bleed for ladies, and ladies never heal men's wounds.Neither would put the other in great danger.The dangers that men avoid are universally acknowledged.But to bandage such a harmless, harmless little wound as Quentin's was, the dangers to the young man were as real as the dangers he ran when he was wounded. We have already said that the wounded young man was very handsome, and when he took off his helmet (or rather, he took off his helmet), his beautiful curls fell in bunches and cast a layer of shyness on his face. And a flush of joy, full of youth and joy around the face.The young Countess, obliged to press her wound with her kerchief alone, as her aunt searched for medicines in her bag, was in a mood mingled with subtle shyness, sympathy for the wounded, and chivalry towards him. thanks.These two feelings made his features and face ten times more beautiful and handsome in her eyes.In short, Fate seemed to be using this little incident to complete the tacit understanding she had established between the two of them through many seemingly accidental details.Although the status and destiny of these two people are very different, they are very similar in youthful beauty and romantic warmth.Therefore, from then on, Miss Isabel, who often appeared in Quentin's fantasy world, naturally held the supreme position in his heart.And the girl's feelings, although she is not very clear personally, but compared with those noble children who have been expressing their love for her in the past two years, she naturally wants to treat the girl who she just wrapped up intriguingly. The young guard who had a small wound harbored a greater affection.Especially when she thought of Duke Charles' despicable favorite Compo.Basso; when he thinks of that hypocritical face, and that vicious soul, and that crooked neck and slanted eyes, his countenance is more hideous than ever.She was determined not to submit to any tyranny and tyranny and marry this hateful fellow. Well-meaning Ms. Hamelin, I do not know because she can understand and appreciate male beauty as she did fifteen years ago (by the way, if the Chroyer family files are correct, she was at least thirty-five years old at the time. age), or because she had not done him due justice in first viewing the merits of the young guard, to whom there was no doubt that she had now begun to court him. My niece, she said, has gifted you a kerchief of hers to bandage your wounds.I also want to send you one to reward your bravery and encourage you to continue your chivalry. So saying she gave him a turban embroidered with many blue and silver flowers, and pointed to the cloak of the pony she rode and the plume of the riding cap she wore, to his attention that they were all of the same colour. The custom at that time stipulated the form that must be followed when accepting such gifts, that is, to tie the headscarf on the arm.Quentin had to act accordingly.But his expression of gratitude was more awkward and less free-spirited than at other times with other people.Although it was only a matter of common courtesy to wear a silk scarf such a gift from a lady, what he wanted more was the right to wear on his arm the same scarf that bound his knife wound. They move on.Quentin and the two ladies rode side by side on horseback.He seems to have entered their inner circle by their tacit approval.But he seldom opened his mouth, because he was filled with a sense of happiness, lest he show his emotions too much.Countess Isabel still seldom spoke.The conversation was thus largely monopolized by Ms. Hamelin alone.Besides, she had no intention of stopping the conversation.As she said, in order to acquaint the young archer with the principles and practices of the order of chivalry, she was at pains to describe to him the pomp of the Haveringham tourney, at which she had given prizes to the winners. I am sorry to say that Quentin was not very interested in the grandeur of the pageant, nor in the precise depiction this lady gave of the coats of arms worn by Flemish and German knights.His concern now was that he had passed the point where he was supposed to meet the guide.If so, it would be very bad, because the consequences would be unimaginable. He was considering whether he should send one of his followers back to see what was going on, when he heard a horn.Looking in the direction of the sound of the horn, they saw a man galloping towards them on horseback.The horse was small, with a rough mane, untrained, and rather unruly.Quentin felt very much like a Scottish hill stallion.Only this horse's legs are thinner and more even; though equally strong in appearance, it moves more swiftly.The head, in particular, was small compared with the clumsy head of a Scotch pony, but it matched the neck.The horse's mouth is thin, its eyes are bright, and its nostrils are swollen. It looks very energetic. Even though the horse had a very strange appearance, not at all like a French horse, the rider was even stranger than the horse's appearance.Although he was a good rider, his feet were in spade-shaped stirrups; and the belt was so short that his knees reached almost as high as the saddle head.Around her head was a little red turban with a soiled feather stuck in it with a silver clasp.His tunic was a green tunic with gaudy gold lace like those worn by the Estrades (the army recruited by the Venetians in the provinces east of the strait at that time).His baggy white trousers were extremely dirty, tied up at the knees into knickerbockers, and his dark legs were completely bare except for the sandal straps that were wrapped around the insteps.He had no spurs on his feet, but the large stirrups had very sharp edges and could be used to spur a horse galloping.This grotesque rider also wore a red sash, with a dagger on his right, a Moorish scimitar on his left, and a faded ribbon slung across his shoulders, from which hung the horn announcing his arrival.His face was sunburned, with a thin beard, piercing black eyes, and a straight muzzle.He was otherwise handsome, though the black curls that hung about his face, his wild manner, and his thin figure seemed to indicate that he was not a civilized man but a savage. He's a bohemian too!The two ladies said at the same time, Virgin Mary!Does the king still trust these aliens? I can cross-examine this man if you like, said Quentin, to find out as much as he can whether he is faithful or not. Dawiert, like the two Ladies of Croix, is aware of the habits and expressions of a vagabond in him through his clothes and appearance.Thanks to Troy.Eichel and little Andre's reckless behavior, he himself was almost confused with these tramps.He was naturally apprehensive about the dangers of trusting in such a tramp. Are you here for us?This was the first question he asked. The stranger nodded. What do you do? and lead you to the court of the men of Liege. Is it the court of the Bishop of Liege? The bohemian nodded again. What evidence can you give me so that we can trust you? Nothing else; but an old ballad, says the Bohemian The boy servant killed the wild boar, The nobleman is honored. This is solid evidence, Quentin said, good man, you lead the way and I will continue to talk to you soon.Then he drew back to the two ladies and said: I am convinced that this man is the guide we are waiting for, because he spoke to me a secret word which I thought only the king and I knew.But I'm going to keep talking to him and try to figure out how much trust I can give him.