'Whilst ye have no better house to harbour us,' she said, 'this shall serve. Let us talk of the to-come.'
He groaned a little.
'Let us love to-day that's here,' he said. 'I will read thee a verse from Lucretius, and you shall tell me the history of that fourth capon'—he pointed to a browned carcase that, upon the spit, whirled its elbows a full third longer than any of the line.
'That is the master roasting-piece,' she said, 'so he browns there not too far, nor too close, for the envoy's own eating.'
He considered the chicken with his head to one side.
'It is the place of a wife to be subject to her lord,' he said.
'It is the place of a husband that he fendeth for 's wife,' she answered him. She tapped her fingers determinedly upon her elbows.
'So it is,' she continued. 'To-morrow you shall set out for London city to make road towards becoming Sir Chancellor.' Whilst he groaned she laid down for him her law. He was to go to England, he was to strive for great posts: if he gained, she would come share them; if he failed, he might at odd moments come back to her fireside. 'Have done with groaning now,' she said, stilling his lamentations.' 'Keep them even for the next wench that you shall sue to—of me you have had all you asked.'
He considered for five seconds, his elbow upon his crossed knees and his wrist supporting his lean brown face.
'It is in the essence of it a good bargain,' he said. 'You put against the chance of being, you a chancellor's madam, mine of having for certain a capon in Paris town.'