But when he saw that she moved away to the door, he sprang up heavily and caught her about the middle.
“Sir,” she panted, “methought 't was thy mood to shame thy daughters; yet this shameth only me.”
“True!” he said; “my daughters!”—and let her go. “But I 'll not be so patient another night. We 'll have a priest on the morrow.”
“First, free thy villeins!” she made answer, and slipped through the door.
Above stairs she found the three damsels crouched on one bed, their heads together. Godiyeva hurled a foul name upon her as she entered.
“Peace!” said she. “Your father hath consented to wait till the morrow morn. Now, if ye are not minded to have a step-dame ruling here, make haste to strip me of these fine clothes, and show me a way to depart softly while 't is yet dark.”
“Thou wilt go!” queried Godiyeva.
For answer, Calote took off the bright cap from her head and kicked away the crimson shoes. Then distance set to work hastily to undo the gown, and the dagger fell out and rattled to the floor. Godiyeva carried it to the light, looked at it, and brought it back, but asked no question.
“Why dost thou wear this bag under thy gown?” said Custance.
“For safety, madame,” Calote replied, and thrust her arms into the sleeves of her old russet.