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In mentioning "Quentin Durward" for the first time Scott speaks of himself as having been ill, and "Peveril" as having suffered through it. It was coldly received by the British public, though it eventually attained a marvellous popularity. In Paris it created a tremendous sensation, similar to that produced in Edinburgh by the appearance of "Waverley. The delineations of these two characters are considered as fine as any in fiction or history.
It was upon a delicious summer morning that a youth approached the ford of a small river, near the Royal castle of Plessis-les-Tours, in ancient Touraine. The age of the young traveller might be about nineteen or twenty, and his face and person were very prepossessing. His smart blue bonnet, with sprig of holly and eagle's feather, was already recognised as the Scottish headgear.
Two persons loitered on the opposite side of the small river and observed the youth. The young man receiving no hint to the contrary entered the stream, and to one less alert in the exercise of swimming death had been certain, for the brook was both deep and strong. As it was, he was carried but a little way from the ordinary landing-place. But the bonnie Scot turned wrathfully on the younger of the strangers for not warning him of the stream, and only the reproof of the elder prevented a violent quarrel.
It is but a short walk from hence to the village. Let me know your name, and follow me. Proceeding along a path they came in sight of the whole front of the Castle of Plessis-les-Tours. I owe you a breakfast, Master Quentin, for the wetting my mistake procured you.
While they were speaking they reached the entrance of the village of Plessis, and presently approached the court-yard of an inn of unusual magnitude. He whistled and the landlord entered, and bowed with reverence. When his appetite had been satisfied, and the old man had put several questions, the door opened, and a girl, whose countenance, so young and so lovely, was graver, Quentin thought, than belongs to an early beauty, entered with a platter and a cup of delicate workmanship. But I blame thee not, thou art too young to be--what thou must be one day--a false and treacherous thing, like the rest of thy giddy sex.