But he was quick to discern the earnestness which Lucette allowed to appear in her tone; and he got up and smiled cunningly.
“I am not a well to be emptied by a woman’s bucket, Mistress Lucette. You will see, some day.”
“I don’t believe a word you’ve said,” she replied with a shrug of indifference.
“I could say much more if——” he paused.
“If what?”
He leered at her cunningly, and bending down close to her shoulder, whispered—
“If you’d give me such a kiss as I saw you give Antoine de Cavannes in the wood yonder when Denys St. Jean was at Courtal. ‘Splay-footed Antoine,’ as you called him to-day.”
Lucette flushed with anger and vexation, genuine enough now, and a passionate retort rose to her lips, but did not pass them. She had to fight down her anger in a pause which he mistook for confusion.
“You have indeed both eyes and ears, Master Dauban,” she answered with a quick glance of coquetry. “But you will not tell on me?” she added, as if in dismay and fear of him.
“I may,” he replied, enjoying her fear.