The new comer understood, and began in a low tone to give a very terrified account, to which the king listened calmly, while Guillaume Rym called Coppenole's attention to the face and dress of the new arrival, to his furred cowl, (caputia fourrata), his short cape, (epitogia curta), his robe of black velvet, which bespoke a president of the court of accounts.
Hardly had this personage given the king some explanations, when Louis XI. exclaimed, bursting into a laugh,—
"In truth? Speak aloud, Gossip Coictier! What call is there for you to talk so low? Our Lady knoweth that we conceal nothing from our good friends the Flemings."
"But sire.…"
"Speak loud!"
Gossip Coictier was struck dumb with surprise.
"So," resumed the king,—"speak sir,—there is a commotion among the louts in our good city of Paris?"
"Yes, sire."
"And which is moving you say, against monsieur the bailiff of the Palais-de-Justice?"
"So it appears," said the gossip, who still stammered, utterly astounded by the abrupt and inexplicable change which had just taken place in the king's thoughts.
Louis XI. continued: "Where did the watch meet the rubble?"
"Marching from the Grand Truanderie, towards the Pont-aux-Changeurs. I met it myself as I was on my way hitherto obey your majesty's commands. I heard some of them shouting: 'Down with the bailiff of the palace!'"
"And what complaints have they against the bailiff?"
"Ah!" said Gossip Jacques, "because he is their lord."
"Really?"
"Yes, sire. They are knaves from the Cour-des-Miracles. They have been complaining this long while, of the bailiff, whose vassals they are. They do not wish to recognize him either as judge or as voyer?"[1]
"Yes, certainly!" retorted the king with a smile of satisfaction which he strove in vain to disguise.
- ↑ One in charge of the highways.
