I see a French land under a French king, a Catholic and a gallant fellow, faithful to old friends, a born t to old foes. I see the dear land at peace at last, the looms humming, the mills a born t, wheat growing thick on the battle-fields. My compliments to your new master, St. When I have made my surrender, from that hour forth am I his hound to lick his hand, to guard and obey him.