, that, if just now conducted to the
Stadthouse, he might unhappily feel himself under the necessity of communicating
to the assembled notables certain matters, which he was directed by the King to
reserve for the private ears of his excellent gossips, Meinheers Rouslaer and
Pavillon of Liege.
    This last hint operated like magic on the two citizens, who were the most
distinguished leaders of the insurgent burghers, and were, like all demagogues
of their kind, desirous to keep everything within their own management, so far
as possible. They therefore hastily agreed that Quentin should leave the town
for the time, and return by night to Liege, and converse with them privately in
the house of Rouslaer, near the gate opposite to Schonwaldt. Quentin hesitated
not to tell them, that he was at present residing in the Bishop's palace, under
pretence of bearing despatches from the French Court, although his real errand
was, as they had well conjectured, designed to the citizens of Liege; and this
tortuous mode of conducting a communication, as well as the character and rank
of the person to whom it was supposed to be intrusted, was so consonant to the
character of Louis, as neither to excite doubt nor surprise.
    Almost immediately after this éclaircissement was completed, the progress of
the multitude brought them opposite to the door of Pavillon's house, in one of
the principal streets, but which communicated from behind with the Maes, by
means of a garden, as well as an extensive manufactory of tan-pits, and other
conveniences for dressing hides; for the patriotic burgher was a felt-dresser,
or currier.
    It was natural that Pavillon should desire to do the honours of his dwelling
to the supposed envoy of Louis, and a halt before his house excited no surprise
on the part of the multitude; who, on the contrary, greeted Meinheer Pavillon
with a loud vivat, as he ushered in his distinguished guest. Quentin speedily
laid aside his remarkable bonnet, for the cap of a felt-maker, and flung a cloak
over his other apparel. Pavillon then furnished him with a passport to pass the
gates of the city, and to return by night or day as should suit his convenience;
and lastly, committed him to the charge of his daughter, a fair and smiling
Flemish lass, with instructions how he was to be disposed of, while he himself
hastened back to his colleague, to amuse their friends at the Stadthouse, with
the best excuses which they could invent for the disappearance of King Louis's
envoy. We cannot, as the footman says in the play, recollect the