"Concerning women?" the King said.
The man deliberated. Then Sire Edward handed him three gold pieces. "There was assuredly no specific mention of petticoats," the soldier now reflected, "and in consequence I dare to pass the Princess."
"And in that event," Sire Edward said, "we twain had as well bid each other adieu."
But Meregrett only said, "You bid me go?"
He waved his hand. "Since there is no choice. For that which you have done—however tardily—I thank you. Meantime I can but return to Rigon's hut to rearrange my toga as King Caesar did when the assassins fell upon him, and to encounter whatever Dame Luck may send with due decorum."
"To die!" she said.
He shrugged his broad shoulders. "In the end we necessarily die."
Dame Meregrett turned and passed back into the hut without faltering.
And when he had lighted the inefficient lamp which he found there, Sire Edward wheeled upon her in half-humorous vexation. "Presently come your brother and his tattling lords. To be discovered here with me at night, alone, means infamy. If Philippe chance to fall into one of his Capetian rages it means death."
"Nay, lord, it means far worse than death." And she laughed, though not merrily.