"Eight hours, and thirty leagues to ride?"
"Nearly nine, and not twenty-five, nor is there any spur like love."
"I rode for love's sake two days ago, and it cost me fourteen hours."
"You had but one horse, and lost your way. Young Lesellè knows the road well, and yesterday I ordered relays to be ready at Sainte Maure and Chatellerault."
"Lesellè? Why not Blaise?"
"Lesellè is one of the King's guard, and his uniform carries authority."
"Oh, Monseigneur!" and I caught him by the hand, kissing it, "you think of everything."
"And what thought have you not taken?" he answered. "Now, Mademoiselle, go into that inner room and dress; remember that to-night you ride a race."
Men twit us with the slow niceness with which we women make ourselves dainty to their eyes, and if we failed so to make ourselves dainty they would twit us the more. But that night there was no dallying. I did not wait so long as to untie my points, but slit them open with my girdle dagger, and then thanked God that at Morsigny the daily dressing of little Gaston taught me how to handle boys' clothing. What had taken an hour with a lover's eyes to be met, was undone and done in less time than the saddling of two horses. Tall and slim, my hair coifed out of sight, under the twinkle of the starlight I made as mannish a boy as Blaise himself.
Monseigneur was giving Dâvidd Lesellè his final instructions.