“Let me see her, and I’ll set a price.”
The unfortunate creature was made to leave the coach and stand between the two Chouans, who each held a hand and looked at her as the Elders must have looked at Susannah.
“Will you take thirty francs in good coin?” said Marche-a-Terre, with a groan.
“Really?”
“Done?” said Marche-a-Terre, holding out his hand.
“Yes, done; I can get plenty of Breton girls for that, and choice morsels, too. But the coach; whose is that?” asked Pille-Miche, beginning to reflect upon his bargain.
“Mine!” cried Marche-a-Terre, in a terrible tone of voice, which showed the sort of superiority his ferocious character gave him over his companions.
“But suppose there’s money in the coach?”
“Didn’t you say, ‘Done’?”
“Yes, I said, ‘Done.’”