to meet again, and to sincerely wish for an understanding.  The next day but one they returned to the place of meeting, attended, each of them, by a large body of men-at-arms.  They advanced towards one another with ten men only, and dismounted.  The Duke of Burgundy went on bended knee.  The dauphin took him by the hand, embraced him, and would have raised him up.  “No, my lord,” said the duke; “I know how I ought to address you.”  The dauphin assured him that he forgave every offence, if indeed he had received any, and added, “Cousin, if in the proposed treaty between us there be aught which is not to your liking, we desire that you amend it, and henceforth we will desire all you shall desire; make no doubt of it.”  They conversed for some time with every appearance of cordiality; and then the treaty was signed.  It was really a treaty of reconciliation, in which, without dwelling upon “the suspicions and imaginings which have been engendered in the hearts of ourselves and many of our officers, and have hindered us from acting with concord in the great matters of my lord the king and his kingdom, and resisting the damnable attempts of his and our old enemies,” the two princes made mutual promises, each in language suitable to their rank and connection, “to love one another, support one another, and serve one another mutually, as good and loyal relatives, and bade all their servants, if they saw any hinderance thereto, to give them notice thereof, according to their bounden duty.”  The treaty was signed by all the men of note belonging to the houses of both princes; and the crowd which surrounded them shouted “Noel!” and invoked curses on whosoever should be minded henceforth to take up arms again in this damnable quarrel.  When the dauphin went away, the duke insisted upon holding his stirrup, and they parted with every demonstration of amity.  The dauphin returned to Touraine, and the duke to Pontoise, to be near the king, who, by letters of July 19, confirmed the treaty, enjoined general forgetfulness of the past, and ordained that “all war should cease, save against the English.”

There was universal and sincere joy.  The peace fulfilled the requirements at the same time of the public welfare and of national feeling; it was the only means of re-establishing order at home, and driving from the kingdom the foreigner who aspired to conquer it.  Only the friends of the Duke of Orleans, and of the Count of Armagnac, one assassinated twelve years before, and the other massacred but lately, remained sad and angry at not having yet been able to obtain either justice or vengeance; but they maintained reserve and silence.  They were not long in once more finding for mistrust and murmuring grounds or pretexts which a portion of the public showed a disposition to take up.  The Duke of Burgundy had made haste to publish his ratification of the treaty of reconciliation; the dauphin had let his wait.  The Parisians