"When nature so wills it," said he, trying to laugh.
"What is it necessary to do for this?" replied she.
"Ah! A cabalistical and alchemical operation which is very dangerous."
"Ah!" said she, with a dreamy look, "that's the reason why my mother cried when thinking of the said metamorphosis; but Bertha de Breuilly, who is so thankful for being made a wife, told me it was the easiest thing in the world."
"That's according to the age," replied the old lord. "But did you see at the stable the beautiful white mare so much spoken of in Touraine?"
"Yes, she is very gentle and nice."
"Well, I give her to you, and you can ride her as often as the fancy takes you."
"Oh, you are very kind, and they did not lie when they told me so."
"Here," continued he, "sweetheart; the butler, the chaplain, the treasurer, the equerry, the farrier, the bailiff, even the Sire de Montsoreau, the young varlet whose name is Gauttier and bears my banner, with his men at arms, captains, followers, and beasts—all are yours, and will instantly obey your orders under pain of being incommoded with a hempen collar."
"But," replied she, "this mysterious operation—cannot it be performed immediately?"