% what his real intentions were. He had advanced to the caufeway, near the place of St. Catherine,, where he and his people lay hid, waiting for the* conftable to pafs. As foon as the conftable had left the ftreet of St. Pol, and turned into the fquare of the great ftreet, advancing a foot's pace, with a torch on each fide to light him, he began à converfation. with one of his fquires, faying,—41 am to have at dinner, to-morrow, my lord of Touraine, the lord de Couçy, fir John de Vienne, fir Charles d'Angers, the baron dlvry and fe-verai more : be fure take care they have all things comfortable, and let nothing be fpared/ As he faid this, fir Peter de Craon and his company ad-* vanced, and, without faying a word, fell on the conftable's attendants and extinguifhed the torches. The conftable, hearing the clatter of the horfes behind him,, thought it was the duke of Touraine who was playing him a trick, and cried out,— 'My lord, by my faith, this is very ill done; but "I e*cufe it, for yon are fo young you make a joke of every thing.' At thefe words, fir Peter de Craon, drawing his fword from the fcabbard, faid, —f Death, death ! Cliffon, you muft die/ c Who art thou,' faid Cliffon, * that utterefl fuch wordsj' 1 I am Peter de Çraon, thy enemy, whom • thou, haft fo often angered, and thou fhak now pay fqr if/ Then, calling to his people, he faid,—c Ad-vance, advance ! i have found him I was in fearch of, and whom I have long wanted to feize/ He then ftrnak him feveral blows, and his men, draw--hk$ their fwords, fell on him. Sir Oliver was . quite