TILT A I/OUTIIANCE. 53 



cedence to the Serjearit-at-Arms. " If this fog were not so thick you 

 would have known me at once, Master Marcoquet, for I am no other 

 than Sebastian Quimbel, own son to your gossip at Poissy." " By 

 Saint Cosmm, he speaks sooth/' cried the host, "these torches have so 

 dazzled my eyes, yet blind with sleep, that I question if I should 

 even be able to recognize those who owe me money. But now I see 

 you clearly and will gladly admit you, as well as this noble gentle- 

 man and his lady ; they shall have my wife's bedchamber." 



So saying Marcoquet disappeared from the window, and descended 

 to the entrance, where he unbarred the door as speedily as the numerous 

 bolts and fastenings would permit him, and allowed the new comers 

 to enter, giving their horses to the care of his stable-keeper whom he 

 roused. After the stranger had rewarded the serjeant-at-arms for his 

 trouble, the host conducted the lady and himself to an upper 

 chamber, where were two beds, and other appliances for a night's 

 rest. A good fire was speedily kindled, and the supper prepared. 

 " Your lordship will pardon me," said Marcoquet, " if I am only 

 able to offer you for your repast the legs of a goose, some mashed 

 pease and Chaillot cheese, for so much company has arrived here of 



late that " Here the stranger gravely bending his head, pointed 



with his finger towards the door, and the host taking the hint, which 

 he was in the habit of receiving from the greater part of his guests, 

 perpetually harassed with his eternal clack quitted the room, and 

 returned to the kitchen, where he found the squire, Sebastian 

 Quimbel, doing ample justice to his supper. 



" Master Marcoquet," said he, with his mouth half-full, " can 

 you tell me the reason why so many strangers are just now throng- 

 ing to Paris ? Are there any new mysteries to be played ? Is there 

 any muster of men-at-arms or are there any Jews to be burnt ?" 

 " What !" exclaimed the host, " have you not heard that to-morrow, 

 in the Culture St. Catherine,, will take place a mortal combat a 

 Tilt a loutrance. Why, where have you come from, you simple- 

 ton ? " " From St. Symphorien, near Poissy," replied Sebastian, 

 e( where I have been in service since last Pentecost ; in a vil- 

 lage like that we rarely hear the news of what is going on in 

 Paris." " But the traveller whom you have brought with you seems 

 to be a person of good lineage he must surely have heard the cause." 

 " As for this traveller," said Sebastian Quimbel, lowering his voice, 

 " I think he only opens his mouth to eat. Throughout the whole 

 journey he has spoken no more than the cattle that we have occa- 

 sionally met on the road; and I marvel much that he even found his 

 voice just now to speak to that party-coloured serjeant of the watch. 

 But on what account is this combat to be fought ?" " I can tell you 

 after the most approved fashion of the gossips of the Etuve de V Arche 

 Marion,* whose love of talking makes them forget every hour on the 

 face of the dial. Listen then to my tale : Next St. Matthew's day 

 will be a twelvemonth since the Sire de Carrouges, a gentleman be- 



* The shops of the " Barbiers Etuvistes " were the great rendezvous of the 

 idle from all parts of the city. It was here that all the news was discussed, and 

 those popular commotions frequently prepared, which were so common in Paris 

 during the reigns of Charles V., VI., VII. 



