"This Burgundian's terms must have been hard of digestion." "Had not my duty, your Grace's commands, and his character as an envoy, restrained me," said Dunois, "he should have tried to digest them himself; for, by our Lady of Orleans, I had more mind to have made him eat his own words, than to have brought them to your Majesty." "Body of me," said the King, "it is strange that thou, one of the most impatient fellows alive, should have so little sympathy with the like infirmity in our blunt and fiery cousin, Charles of Burgundy.

Why, man, I mind his blustering messages no more than the towers of this Castle regard the whistling of the northeast wind, which comes from Flanders, as well as this brawling Envoy." "Know then, Sire," replied Dunois, "that the Count of Crevecoeur tarries below, with his retinue of pursuivants and trumpets, and says, that since your Majesty refuses him the audience which his master has instructed him to demand, upon matters of most pressing concern, he will remain there till midnight, and accost your Majesty at whatever hour you are pleased to issue from your Castle, whether for business, exercise, or devotion; and that no consideration, except the use of absolute force, shall compel him to desist from this." "He is a fool," said the King, with much composure.

"Does the hot headed Hainaulter think it any penance for a man of sense to remain for twenty-four hours quiet within the walls of his Castle, when he hath the affairs of a kingdom to occupy him?
These impatient coxcombs think that all men, like themselves, are miserable, save when in saddle and stirrup.

Let the dogs be put up, and well looked to, gentle Dunois .-- We will hold council today, instead of hunting." "My Liege," answered Dunois, "you will not thus rid yourself of Crevecoeur; for his master's instructions are, that if he hath not this audience which he demands, he shall nail his gauntlet to the palisade before the Castle in token of mortal defiance on the part of his master, shall renounce the Duke's fealty to France, and declare instant war." "Ay," said Louis without any perceptible alteration of voice, but frowning until his piercing dark eyes became almost invisible under his shaggy eyebrows, "is it even so?
will our ancient vassal prove so masterful--our dear cousin treat us thus unkindly ?--Nay, then, Dunois, we must unfold the Oriflamme, and cry Dennis Montjoye!" [Montjoie St.Denis, a former war cry of the French soldiers.

Saint Denis was a patron saint of France who suffered martyrdom in the third century.