Fare your knightship well." Laurence and Gilles de Sille rode out of Paris by the Versailles road, and the latter insisted on silence till they had passed the forest of St.Cyr, which was at that time exceedingly dangerous for horsemen not travelling in large companies.

Once they were fairly on the road to Chartres, however, and clear of the valley of the Seine and its tangled boscage of trees, Gilles relaxed sufficiently to break a bottle of wine to the success of their journey and to the new service and duty upon which Laurence was to enter at the end of it.
Having proposed this toast, he handed the bumper first to Laurence, who, barely tasting the excellent Poitevin vintage, handed the leathern bottle back to de Sille.

That sallow youth immediately, without giving his companion a second chance, proceeded to quaff the entire contents of the pigskin.
Then as the stiff brew penetrated downwards, it was not long before the favourite of the marshal began to wax full of vanity and swelling words.
"I tell you what it is," he said, "there would be trembling in the heart of a very great man when the nine cravens returned without me.
For I am no shaveling ignoramus, but a gentleman of birth; aye, and one who, though poor, is a near cousin of the marshal himself.

I warrant the rascals who ran away would smart right soundly for leaving me behind.

For Gilles de Sille is no simpleton.