a great number of rabbits within and without the city." With killing
of every kind at his service, what greater solace could a homeless
prince expect?

From Louvain to Genappe is no great distance, and the sum of 1200
livres, furnished by Philip for the dauphin's journey to his new
abode, seemed a large provision. The pension then settled on him was
36,000 livres, and when the dauphiness arrived 1000 livres a month
were provided for her private purse[10].

Pleasant was existence in this château. There was no dearth of company
to throng around the prince in exile, and the dauphin allowed no
prejudice of mere likes and dislikes, no consideration of duty towards
his host to hamper him in making useful friends. A word here and
a word there, aptly thrown in at a time when Philip's anger had
exasperated, when Charles had failed to conciliate, were very potent
in intimating to many a Burgundian servant that there might come a
time when a new king across the border might better appreciate their
real value than their present or future sovereign.

Hunting was a favourite amusement, but the dauphin did not confine his
invitations to sportsmen. The easy accessibility of the little court
attracted men of science and of letters as well as others capable of
making the time pass agreeably. When there was nothing else on foot,
it is said that the company amused themselves by telling stories,
each in turn, and out of their tales grew the collection of the _Cent
Nouvelles Nouvelles_[11], named in imitation of Boccaccio's _Cento
Novelle_.

The first printed edition of this collection was issued in Paris, in