“Tush!” the young man replied, almost savagely; “tush! You are no fool, Canillac!”
“Not much, I think; though they do call me Canillac le fou! But what then, what then, beau cousin?”
“Did you not see her? did you not see her, Canillac? As I hope to live before God, she is the loveliest piece of woman’s flesh I ever looked upon! I would give—I would give half my lands, half my life, that I had droits seignorial over her; but I have dues, dues only, and they are satisfied. She is free—a free woman of her own right, and can not be mine.”
“Were I you, cousin, and I so desired her as you do, she should be mine, ere nightfall!”
“How so? how so?” asked the young man, sharply. “Did I not tell you she is free—free—that I have no droits over her, and do you tell me I can make her mine?”
“What if she be? She is but a peasant-wench—one of the mere canaille. I would regard her squalling no more than a kitten’s mewing; nay, rather I would glory in it, for I am sick to death of your complaisant beauties. Besides, she is not free, if she was born while her father was a serf, unless she was named in the deed of manumission.”
“But she must have been born years afterward. Look at her, man: she could not have been born in my grandfather’s time.”
“Deny that she is free. Have her up with us to the castle, now. Hold her there as a hostage, till she be proven free. If you be not aweary of her, ere the week is ended, I will find twenty men who shall swear she was born in the days of Sir Noah in the ark, if it be needful.” And he laughed scornfully.
“By Heaven, I will not weary of her in a week of years! But it is well advised. I will essay it.”
“Essay nothing: do it! Promise to hold her in all honor. Promises cost no man anything, nor oaths either, for that matter, which is fortunate; for, by mine honor, she is fitter to be a prince’s paramour than a Jacque’s wife. So forward!”