After this friendly bout at point and edge, Robin and Randal Rutherford,
being off duty, must needs carry me to the Tennis Court, where Tremouille
and the King were playing two young lords, and that for such a stake as
would have helped to arm a hundred men for the aid of Orleans. It was
pretty to see the ball fly about basted from the walls, and the players
bounding and striking; and, little as I understood the game, so eager was
I over the sport, that a gentleman within the "dedans" touched me twice
on the shoulder before I was aware of him.

"I would have a word with you, sir, if your grace can spare me the
leisure."

"May it not be spoken here?" I asked, for I was sorry to lose the
spectacle of the tennis, which was new to me, and is a pastime wherein
France beats the world. Pity it is that many players should so curse and
blaspheme God and His saints!

"My business," replied the stranger, "is of a kind that will hardly
endure waiting."

With that I rose and followed him out into the open courtyard, much
marvelling what might be toward.

"You are that young gentleman," said my man, "for a gentleman I take you
to be, from your aspect and common report, who yesterday were the death
of Gilles de Puiseux?"

"Sir, to my sorrow, and not by my will, I am he, and but now I was going
forth to have certain masses said for his soul's welfare": which was
true, Randal Rutherford having filled my purse against pay-day.