accomplices in the attack upon De Clisson, but they were not at all sorry for it.  It was to them an incident in the strife begun between themselves, princes of the blood royal, and those former councillors of Charles V., and now, again, of Charles vi., whom, with the impertinence of great lords, they were wont to call the marinosettes.  They left nothing undone to avert the king’s anger and to preserve the Duke of Brittany from the war which was threatening him.

Charles vi.’s excitement was very strong, and endured forever.  He pressed forward eagerly his preparations for war, though attempts were made to appease him.  He was recommended to take care of himself; for he had been ill, and could scarcely mount his horse; and the Duke of Burgundy remonstrated with him several times on the fatigue he was incurring.  “I find it better for me,” he answered, “to be on horseback, or working at my council, than to keep resting.  Whoso wishes to persuade me otherwise is not of my friends, and is displeasing to me.”  A letter from the Queen of Arragon gave some ground for supposing that Peter de Craon had taken refuge in Spain; and the Duke of Burgundy took advantage of it to dissuade the king from his prompt departure for the war in Brittany.  “At the very least,” he said, “it was right to send to Arragon to know the truth of the matter, and to thank the queen for her courtesy.”  “We are quite willing, uncle,” answered Charles:  “you need not be vexed; but for my own part I hold that this traitor of a Peter de Craon is in no other prison and no other Barcelona than there is in being quite comfortable at the Duke of Brittany’s.”  There was no way of deterring him from his purpose.  He had got together his uncles and his troops at Le Mans; and, after passing three weeks there, he gave the word to march for Brittany.  The tragic incident which at that time occurred has nowhere been more faithfully or better narrated than in M. de Barante’s History of the Dukes of Burgundy.  “It was,” says he, “the beginning of August, 1392, during the hottest days of the year.  The sun was blazing, especially in those sandy districts.  The king was on horseback, clad in a short and tight dress called a jacket.  His was of black velvet, and very oppressive.  On his head he wore a cap of scarlet velvet, ornamented with a chaplet of large pearls, which the queen had given him at his departure.  Behind him were two pages on horseback.  In order not to incommode the king with dust, he was left to march almost alone.  To the left of him were the Dukes of Burgundy and Berry, some paces in front, conversing together.  The Duke of Orleans, the Duke of Bourbon, Sire de Coney, and some others were also in front, forming another group.  Behind were Sires de Navarre, de Bar, d’Albret, d’Artois, and many others in one pretty large troop.  They rode along in this order, and had just entered the great forest of Le Mans, when all at once there started from behind a tree by the road-side a tall man, with bare head and feet, clad in a common white smock, who, dashing forward and seizing the king’s horse by the bridle, cried, ’Go no farther; thou art betrayed!’