CHAPTER XXI.
BROTHER BORROMEE.
When Chicot, sustaining the reverend prior, arrived in the courtyard, hefound there two bands of one hundred men each, waiting for theircommander. About fifty among the strongest and most zealous had helmetson their heads and long swords hanging to belts from their waists.Others displayed with pride bucklers, on which they loved to rattle aniron gauntlet.
Brother Borromee took a helmet from the hands of a novice, and placed iton his head. While he did so, Chicot looked at it and smiled.
"You have a handsome helmet there, Brother Borromee," said he; "wheredid you buy it, my dear prior?"
Gorenflot could not reply, for at that moment they were fastening amagnificent cuirass upon him, which, although spacious enough to havecovered Hercules, Farnese constrained wofully the undulations of theflesh of the worthy prior, who was crying:
"Not so tight! I shall stifle; stop!"
But Borromee replied, "It made part of a lot of armor that the reverendprior bought yesterday to arm the convent."
"I!" said Gorenflot.
"Yes; do you not remember that they brought several cuirasses andcasques here, according to your reverence's orders?"
"It is true," said Gorenflot.
"Ventre de biche!" thought Chicot; "my helmet is much attached to me,for, after having taken it myself to the Hotel Guise, it comes here tomeet me again."
At a sign from Borromee, the monks now formed into lines, while Chicotsat down on a bench to look on.
Gorenflot stood up. "Attention," whispered Borromee to him.
Gorenflot drew a gigantic sword from the scabbard, and waving it in theair, cried in the voice of a stentor, "Attention!"
"Your reverence will fatigue yourself, perhaps, in giving the orders,"said Borromee, softly; "if it please you to spare your precious health,I will command to-day."
"I should wish it, I am stifling."
Borromee bowed and placed himself at the head of the troop.
"What a complaisant servant," said Chicot.
"He is charming, I told you so."
"I am sure he does the same for you every day."
"Oh! every day. He is as submissive as a slave."
"So that you have really nothing to do here--Brother Borromee acts foryou?"
"Oh! mon Dieu, yes."
It was wonderful to see Borromee with his arms in his hands, his eyedilated, and his vigorous arm wielding his sword in so skillful a mannerthat one would have thought him a trained soldier. Each time thatBorromee gave an order, Gorenflot repeated it, adding:
"Brother Borromee is right; but I told you all that yesterday. Pass thepike from one hand to the other! Raise it to the level of the eye!"
"You are a skillful instructor," said Chicot.
"Yes, I understand it well."
"And Borromee an apt pupil."
"Oh, yes! he is very intelligent."
While the monks went through their exercises, Gorenflot said, "You shallsee my little Jacques."
"Who is Jacques?"
"A nice lad, calm-looking, but strong, and quick as lightning. Look,there he is with a musket in his hand, about to fire."
"And he fires well."
"That he does."
"But stay--"
"Do you know him?"
"No; I thought I did, but I was wrong."
While they spoke, Jacques loaded a heavy musket, and placing himself atone hundred yards from the mark, fired, and the ball lodged in thecenter, amid the applause of the monks.
"That was well done!" cried Chicot.
"Thank you, monsieur," said Jacques, whose cheeks colored with pleasure.
"You manage your arms well," added Chicot.
"I study, monsieur."
"But he is best at the sword," said Gorenflot; "those who understand it,say so, and he is practicing from morning till night."
"Ah! let us see," said Chicot.
"No one here, except perhaps myself, is capable of fencing with him; butwill you try him yourself, monsieur?" said Borromee.
"I am but a poor bourgeois," said Chicot; "formerly I have used my swordlike others, but now my legs tremble and my arm is weak."
"But you practice still?"
"A little," replied Chicot, with a smile. "However, you, BrotherBorromee, who are all muscle and tendon, give a lesson to BrotherJacques, I beg, if the prior will permit it."
"I shall be delighted," cried Gorenflot.
The two combatants prepared for the trial. Borromee had the advantage inheight and experience. The blood mounted to the cheeks of Jacques andanimated them with a feverish color. Borromee gradually dropped allappearance of a monk, and was completely the maitre d'armes: heaccompanied each thrust with a counsel or a reproach, but often thevigor and quickness of Jacques triumphed over the skill of his teacher,who was several times touched.
When they paused, Chicot said, "Jacques touched six times and Borromeenine; that is well for the scholar, but not so well for the master."
The flash of Borromee's eyes showed Chicot that he was proud.
"Monsieur," replied he, in a tone which he endeavored to render calm,"the exercise of arms is a difficult one, especially for poor monks."
"Nevertheless," said Chicot, "the master ought to be at least half asgood again as his pupil, and if Jacques were calmer, I am certain hewould fence as well as you."
"I do not think so," replied Borromee, biting his lips with anger.
"Well! I am sure of it."
"M. Briquet, who is so clever, had better try Jacques himself," repliedBorromee, in a bitter tone.
"Oh! I am old."
"Yes, but learned."
"Ah! you mock," thought Chicot, "but wait." Then he said, "I am certain,however, that Brother Borromee, like a wise master, often let Jacquestouch him out of complaisance."
"Ah!" cried Jacques, frowning in his turn.
"No," replied Borromee, "I love Jacques, certainly, but I do not spoilhim in that manner. But try yourself, M. Briquet."
"Oh, no."
"Come, only one pass."
"Try," said Gorenflot.
"I will not hurt you, monsieur," said Jacques, "I have a very lighthand."
"Dear child," murmured Chicot, with a strange glance. "Well!" said he,"since every one wishes it, I will try," and he rose slowly, andprepared himself with about the agility of a tortoise.