On his back he carried, as I noticed at the first, what I never saw on a cordelier's back before, or on any but his since--an arbalest, and he had bolts enough in his bag, the feathers showing above.
"Pax vobiscum," he cried, in a loud, grating voice, as he saw me, and scrambled out to shore.
"Et cum anima tua," I answered.
"Nom de Dieu!" he said, "you have bottomed my Latin already, that is scarce so deep as the river here.

My malison on them that broke the bridge!" Then he looked me over fiercely.
"Burgundy or Armagnac ?" he asked.
I thought the question strange, as a traveller would scarce care to pronounce for Burgundy in that country.

But this was a man who would dare anything, so I deemed it better to answer that I was a Scot, and, so far, of neither party.
"Tug-mutton, wine-sack!" he said, these being two of many ill names which the French gave our countrymen; for, of all men, the French are least grateful to us, who, under Heaven and the Maid, have set their King on his throne again.
The English knew this, if the French did not; and their great King, Harry the Fifth, when he fell ill of St.Fiacre's sickness, after plundering that Scots saint's shrine of certain horse-shoes, silver-gilt, said well that, "go where he would, he was bearded by Scots, dead or alive." But the French are not a thankful people.
I had no answer very ready to my tongue, so stepped down silent to the water-edge, and was about taking off my doublet and hose, meaning to carry them on my head and swim across.

But he barred the way with his staff, and, for me, I gripped to my whinger, and watched my chance to run in under his guard.

For this cordelier was not to be respected, I deemed, like others of the Order of St.Francis, and all men of Holy Church.
"Answer a civil question," he said, "before it comes to worse: Armagnac or Burgundy ?" "Armagnac," I answered, "or anything else that is not English.