Alberic looked down hesitating.
“Oh, say that you will! I will give you horses, and hawks, and hounds, and I will love you—almost as well as Osmond. Oh, stay with me, Alberic.”
“I must obey you, my Lord,” said Alberic, “but—”
“Come, young Frenchman, out with it,” said Bernard,—“no buts! Speak honestly, and at once, like a Norman, if you can.”
This rough speech seemed to restore the little Baron’s self-possession, and he looked up bright and bold at the rugged face of the old Dane, while he said, “I had rather not stay here.”
“Ha! not do service to your Lord?”
“I would serve him with all my heart, but I do not want to stay here. I love the Castle of Montémar better, and my mother has no one but me.”
“Brave and true, Sir Frenchman,” said the old Count, laying his great hand on Alberic’s head, and looking better pleased than Richard thought his grim features could have appeared. Then turning to Bertrand, Alberic’s Seneschal, he said, “Bear the Count de Harcourt’s greetings to the noble Dame de Montémar, and say to her that her son is of a free bold spirit, and if she would have him bred up with my Lord Duke, as his comrade and brother in arms, he will find a ready welcome.”
“So, Alberic, you will come back, perhaps?” said Richard.
“That must be as my mother pleases,” answered Alberic bluntly, and with all due civilities he and his Seneschal departed.