But the question of clothes was the most difficult one to settle. Gilles de Crohin possessed none save those in which he stood up at this moment: a well-worn doublet of faded kerseymere, a stout jerkin and cloth trunks. His hose showed a multiplicity of darns, and his boots, though stout and solid, were not exactly suited to a lady's drawing-room.
'Time is too short to fashion new ones,' said Marguerite thoughtfully; 'even if this little town did boast of silken materials and Court tailors; which it certainly does not!'
'It certainly doth appear in the light of an insurmountable difficulty,' rejoined Gilles with a hopeful sigh.
'No difficulty is insurmountable, Messire, when the honour of France is at stake,' she retorted with a frown.
'But——'
'What hath Monsieur done with his wardrobe?' asked Marguerite. 'He always travels with trunk-loads of frippery.'
'Monseigneur left all his clothes here and most of his jewellery. I am to convey them to his house in Paris when an opportunity occurs.'
'Very well,' she rejoined firmly; 'we must find what you want among them.'
'But——' he broke in once more, disconcerted at the suggestion.
'But what?'