“I.”
He was looking at her with grave eyes trained to darkness. But she looked past him towards the sky, which was faintly lighted by the aurora. Her averted eyes and rigid attitude were not without some suggestion of guilt.
“My ship is ice-bound at Reval,” said D'Arragon, in a matter-of-fact way. “They have no use for me until the winter is over, and they have given me three months' leave.”
“To go to England?” she asked.
“To go anywhere I like,” he said, with a short laugh. “So I am going to look for Charles, and Barlasch will come with me.”
“At a price,” put in that soldier, in a shrewd undertone. “At a price.”
“A small one,” corrected Louis, turning to look at him with the close attention of one exploring a new country.
“Bah! You give what you can. One does not go back across the Niemen for pleasure. We bargained, and we came to terms. I got as much as I could.”
Louis laughed, as if this were the blunt truth.
“If I had more, I would give you more. It is the money I placed in a Dantzig bank for my cousin. I must take it out again, that is all.”