They all shouted with one voice:—
"Anywhere, master; wherever you choose to lead us!"
"Bravo, my children! Then you are all in for the sport?"
"All!"
"Then let the tempest howl!" cried Benvenuto; "at last we are to have a little diversion. I have been rusty long enough. Up, up, brave hearts and swords! Ah! thank God! we are soon to give and receive a few lusty blows! Look you, my dear boys, look you, my gallant friends, we must arm ourselves, we must agree upon a plan; let them be ready to look to themselves, and vive la joie! I will give you all that I possess in the way of weapons, offensive and defensive, in addition to those that are hanging on the wall, where every one can choose at will. Ah! what we really need is a good culverin: but there's its value in arquebuses, hackbuts, pikes, swords, and daggers; and there are coats of mail galore, and cuirasses and helmets. Come, haste, haste, and let us dress for the ball! the provost shall pay for the music!"
"Hurrah!" cried all his companions.
Thereupon the studio was the scene of a commotion, a tumult, wonderful to look upon; the verve and enthusiasm of the master infected every heart and every face. They tried on cuirasses, brandished swords, tested the point of daggers, laughed and sang, as if a masquerade or festival of some sort were in progress. Benvenuto ran hither and thither, handing a boot to this one, buckling the belt of another, and feeling the blood course hotly and freely through his veins, as if this were the life he truly loved.
The workmen meanwhile indulged in jokes at one another's expense, commenting freely upon the bellicose demeanor and awkward attitudes of their fellows.
"Look, master!" cried one of them; "look at Simon-le-Gaucher,[4] putting his sword on the same side as we! On the right, man! on the right!"
"See Jehan," retorted Simon, "holding his halberd as he'll hold his cross when he's a bishop!"