"The goods of the Church are the goods of God," retorted the archbishop haughtily. "What is God's, is God's; no human power can lay hands on it."
"Priest!" cried Rolf puckering his brows with mingled anger and slyness, "take care lest the humor seize me to chase the whole pack of tonsured gentry from their nests in the abbeys, in order to prove to you once more that Rolf and his champions take and keep whatever it may please Rolf and his champions to take or to keep, without asking leave of your Church."
"To the devil with the man of the gold cap with two points!" chimed in several voices from among the freshly baptized pirates. "By the white horse of our god Thomarog! Does the fellow take us for fools? Death to the tonsured knave!"
"Rolf!" said the Archbishop of Rouen insinuatingly in order to calm the old pirate, "the light of our faith has not yet sufficiently dispelled the darkness in which paganism held your soul imprisoned. I do not threaten you—I shall remain faithful to our compact."
"That's then agreed!" replied Rolf. "It is give and take between us. If your priests serve me well, they shall keep their lands. But I must recoup myself for the property that I leave to your abbots;" and addressing the King, who, wholly indifferent to the conversation that was taking place before him, remained silent, somber and sad: "Charles, you gave me Ghisèle and Neustria. That is not now enough. A King's daughter should be more richly dowered. My duchy of Northmandy borders on Brittany. I demand this province also, together with all its towns, abbeys and dependencies."
"You want Brittany!" cried Charles the Simple, for the first time awaking from his gloomy apathy. "Oh, you want Brittany! I give it to you with all my heart! You can have it. Go and take possession of it. It will be a bright day to me, the day that I shall hear that you set foot in that country. I gladly make you a present of Armorica, with its cities, abbeys and dependencies! All you have to do is to take possession!"
Not a little astonished at the King's eagerness to grant him so considerable a cession, the old pirate turned towards his men inquiringly. Gaëlo whispered to him:
"Charles grants you the country of the Bretons because he knows that it is impregnable, being defended by a race of indomitable men."
"There is nothing impregnable to you, my champions! You will take charge of the task."
"Since six hundred years the Franks have been endeavoring to subjugate that land, and they have not yet succeeded in establishing themselves firmly in it. They have invaded it; they have vanquished its forces—but never yet have they subjugated it."