A few minutes later，the door of the closet had opened and closed again on the five persons whom the reader found there at the beginning of this chapter，and who had severally resumed their places，their attitudes，and their whispered conversation.
During the King's absence some despatches had been laid upon the table，of which he himself broke the seal.He then began reading them attentively one after another，motioned to M re Olivier，who seemed to fill the post of minister to him，to take a pen，and without imparting to him the contents of the despatches，began in a low voice to dictate to him the answers，which the latter wrote kneeling uncomfortably at the table.
Guillaume Rym watched them.
The King spoke so low that the Flemings could hear nothing of what he was dictating，except here and there a few isolated and scarcely intelligible fragments，such as：'Maintain the fertile tracts by commerce and the sterile ones by manufactures.—Show my lords the English our four bombards：the Londres，the Brabant，the Bourg-en-Bresse，the Saint-Omer.—It is owing to artillery that war is now more reasonably carried on.—To Monsieur de Bressuire，our friend.—Armies cannot be maintained without contributions，'etc.
Once he raised his voice.Pasque-Dieu！Monsieur the King of Sicily seals his letters with yellow wax like a King of France！Perhaps we do wrong to permit this.My good cousin of Burgundy accorded no arms of a field gules.The greatness of a house is secured by upholding the integrity of its prerogatives.Note that down，friend Olivier.'
Another time：'Oh，oh！'said he，'a big missive！What does our friend the Emperor demand of us now？'Then，running his eye over the despatch and interrupting the perusal now and again with brief interjections：'Certes，Germany is getting so grand and mighty it is scarcely credible.But we do not forget the old proverb：‘The finest country is Flanders；the finest duchy，Milan；the finest kingdom，France.'Is that not so，Messieurs the Flemings？'
This time Coppenole bowed as well as Guillaume Rym.The hosier's patriotism was tickled.
The last of the batch made Louis XI knit his brows.'What have we here？'he exclaimed.'Complaints and petitions against our garrisons in Picardy！Olivier，write with all speed to Monsieur the Marshal de Rouault：That discipline is relaxed；that the men-at-arms，the nobles，the free archers，and the Swiss are doing infinite mischief to the inhabitants；that the military，not content with the good things they find in the dwellings of the husbandmen，must needs compel them with heavy blows of staves or bills to fetch them from the town wine，fish，spices，and other superfluous articles；that the King knows all this；that we mean to protect our people from annoyance，theft，and pillage；that such is our will，by Our Lady！That，furthermore，it does not please us that any musician，barber，or man-at-arms whatsoever，should go clad like a prince in velvet，silk，and gold rings；that such vanities are hateful to God；that we，who are a gentleman，content ourselves with a doublet of cloth at sixteen sols parisis the ell；that messieurs the varlets may very well come down to that price likewise.Convey and command this—To M.de Rouault，our friend.—Good.'
He dictated this letter in a loud voice with a firm tone，and in short，abrupt sentences.As he spoke the last word，the door flew open and admitted a fresh person，who rushed into the chamber in breathless agitation，crying：
'Sire！Sire！there is a rising of the populace of Paris！'
The King's grave face contracted，but such emotion as he displayed passed like a flash.He controlled himself.'Compére Jacques，'he said in a tone and with a look of quiet severity，'you enter very abruptly.'
'Sire！Sire！there is a revolt！'gasped M re Jacques.
Louis，who had risen from his seat，seized him roughly by the arm，and in a tone of concentrated anger and a side-long glance at the Flemings，said in his ear so as to be heard by him alone：'Hold thy peace，or speak low！'
The newcomer grasped the situation and proceeded to tell his news in a terrified whisper，the King listening unmoved，while Guillaume Rym directed Coppenole's attention to the messenger's face and dress，his furred hood（caputia forrata），his short cloak（epitogia curta），his gown of black velvet，which proclaimed him a president of the Court of Accompts.
Scarcely had this person given the King a few details，when Louis exclaimed in a burst of laughter：'Nay，in good sooth，speak up，Compére Coictier.What need to whisper thus？Our Lady knows we have no secrets from our good Flemish friends.'
'But，Sire—'
'Speak up！'said the King.
Compére Coictier stood in mute surprise.
'So，'resumed the King—'speak out，monsieur.So there is a rising of the populace in our good city of Paris？'
'Yes，Sire.'
'Which is directed，you tell me，against Monsieur the Provost of the Palais de Justice？'
'It would seem so，'replied the man，who still found his words with difficulty，so confounded was he by the sudden and inexplicable change in the King's manner.
'Where did the watch encounter the mob？'asked Louis.
'Advancing from the Great Truanderie towards the Pontaux-Changeurs.I met it myself on my way here in obedience to your Majesty's orders.I heard some of them cry，‘Down with the Provost of the Palais！''
'And what is their grievance against the provost？'
'Oh，'said Jacques，'that he is their liege lord.'
'In truth？'
'Yes，Sire.They are rascals from the Court of Miracles.They have long been complaining of the provost whose vassals they are.They will not acknowledge him either as justiciary or as lord of the highway.'
'So，so！'retorted the King，with a smile of satisfaction which he strove in vain to conceal.
'In all their petitions to the Parliament，'continued Compére Jacques，'they claim to have only two masters—your Majesty and their God；who is，I believe，the devil.'
