Ivo’s shoulders were shrugged very decidedly.
“Ha, chétife!” cried he; “she will want the crespine.”
“Not so much as she will want to impart her secret,” answered the priest. “Who whispered to the earth, ‘Midas has long ears’?”
“It will not matter much to Ivo, so he be not taken,” said the knight. “Nor, in a sense, to you, Father, as your frock protects you. I shall come off the worst.”
“You’ll come off well enough,” responded Ivo. “You made an excellent mercer this morrow. You only need go on chaffering till you have sold all your satins, and by that time you will have your pockets well lined; and if you choose your route wisely, you will be near the sea.”
“Well and good! if we are not all by that time eating dry bread at the expense of our worthy friend Sir Godfrey.”
“Mind you are not, Sir Roland,” said Ivo. “Every man for himself. I always fall on my feet like a cat, and have nine lives.”
“Nine lives come to an end some day,” replied Sir Roland, grimly.
“On what art thou a-thinking thus busily, Phyllis?”