“I demand no more,” said Marteville; “any common thief could have done it.”
“But, by the way, I hope you did not hurt him, for he came with a safe conduct.”
“Hurt him! no,” replied the Norman: “we are the best friends in the world. When I met him on the road, I told him civilly that I must have his despatches; and that I would either cut his throat or drink a bottle with him, whichever he liked: so he chose the latter, and when we parted, he promised to give me notice the next time he came on the same errand.”
“The rascal!” said Chavigni, “that is the way we are served. But now we come to this business of the Count de Blenau—what do you expect for the whole concern?”
“Nay but, Monseigneur, you forget,” exclaimed the other; “there is one little item before that. Put down,—for being an Astrologer.”
“Why, I have given you fifty crowns on that account already,” rejoined the Statesman; “you are exorbitant, Seigneur Marteville.”
“That fifty crowns went for my expenses—all of it,” replied the other. “There was my long black robe all covered with gimcracks; there was my leathern belt, painted with all the signs under heaven; there was my white beard, and wig, which cost me ten good crowns at the shop of Jansen the Peruquier: besides the harness of my horse, which was made to suit, and my Astrologer’s bonnet, which kept all fast upon my head. Now, Monseigneur, you cannot give me less than fifty crowns, for being out two nights, and running the risk of being burnt alive.”
“I think not,” said Chavigni, “so let that pass. But to come to the other business.”
“Why, first and foremost,” replied the Norman, marking each article as he named it, by laying the index of his right hand upon one of the immense fingers of his left,—“For making love to Mademoiselle’s maid.”
“Nay, nay, nay!” cried Chavigni, “this is too much. That must be part of the dower I have promised with her, of which we will talk presently. But have you married her?”