Again the threats of the scholars were renewed, and further intimations of violence were exhibited.  Again the peas rattled upon the hands and faces of the halberdiers, till their ears tingled with pain.  “Prate to us of the king’s favorites,” cried one of the foremost of the scholars, a youth decorated with a paper collar:  “they may rule within the precincts of the Louvre, but not within the walls of the university. Maugre-bleu! We hold them cheap enough.  We heed not the idle bark of these full-fed court lapdogs.  What to us is the bearer of a cup and ball?  By the four Evangelists, we will have none of them here!  Let the Gascon cadet, D’Epernon, reflect on the fate of Quelus and Maugiron, and let our gay Joyeuse beware of the dog’s death of Saint-Megrin.  Place for better men—­place for the schools—­away with frills and sarbacanes.”

“What to us is a president of Parliament, or a governor of the city?” shouted another of the same gentry.  “We care nothing for their ministration.  We recognize them not, save in their own courts.  All their authority fell to the ground at the gate of the Rue Saint Jacques, when they entered our dominions.  We care for no parties.  We are trimmers, and steer a middle course.  We hold the Guisards as cheap as the Huguenots, and the brethren of the League weigh as little with us as the followers of Calvin.  Our only sovereign is Gregory the Thirteenth, Pontiff of Rome.  Away with the Guise and the Bearnaise!”

“Away with Henri of Navarre, if you please,” cried a scholar of Harcourt; “or Henri of Valois, if you list:  but by all the saints, not with Henri of Lorraine; he is the fast friend of the true faith.  No!—­No!—­live the Guise—­live the Holy Union!”

“Away with Elizabeth of England,” cried a scholar of Cluny:  “what doth her representative here?  Seeks he a spouse for her among our schools?  She will have no great bargain, I own, if she bestows her royal hand upon our Duc d’Anjou.”

“If you value your buff jerkin, I counsel you to say nothing slighting of the Queen of England in my hearing,” returned a bluff, broad-shouldered fellow, raising his bludgeon after a menacing fashion.  He was an Englishman belonging to the Four Nations, and had a huge bull-dog at his heels.

“Away with Philip of Spain and his ambassador,” cried a Bernardin.

“By the eyes of my mistress!” cried a Spaniard belonging to the College of Narbonne, with huge mustaches curled half-way up his bronzed and insolent visage, and a slouched hat pulled over his brow.  “This may not pass muster.  The representative of the King of Spain must be respected even by the Academics of Lutetia.  Which of you shall gainsay me?—­ha!”

“What business has he here with his suite, on occasions like to the present?” returned the Bernardin. “Tete-Dieu! this disputation is one that little concerns the interest of your politic king; and methinks Don Philip, or his representative, has regard for little else than whatsoever advances his own interest.  Your ambassador hath, I doubt not, some latent motive for his present attendance in our schools.”