VILLAINS PLOTTING.
"And my imaginations are as foul
As Vulcan's stithy."
Shakespeare.
The same day, a little before nightfall, Baron Vigneau strode across the greensward to the spot where his own followers were bivouacking beneath some huge beech trees. "Pierre," said he, calling to a stalwart and villainous-looking soldier, who was engaged in a noisy chaffering with some comrades, "I have a dainty bit of work for you, Pierre. Just such a commission as you love next best to swilling old Saxon ale."
"What is it your lordship has in the wind now? It has some connection with wine or wenches, I stake my rosary on it."
"Thou had better throw thy rosary into the first ditch thou comes across; for if thou tell thy beads in proportion to thy sins, thou can find no time for anything else; and if thou do penance for half thy sins, and be d—d for the other half, why, marry, thou might as well be d—d for the whole. But I warrant that the end of thee in any case, villain; so there's an end on't. But I want none of thy scurvy impudence, mark me! I want thy ears, and the best discretion thou hast. I have a delicate mission for thee to perform—a mission well suited to thy tender and susceptible disposition."
"Many thanks for your lordship's highly valued appreciation. But truly, when I quit my sins I'll have to quit your service; for how a saint will manage the devil's business I cannot tell. Indifferently well, I fancy."
"Silence, sirrah, or I'll crop thy ears! Listen to me! Down at the monastery there is a Saxon wench—a gem of the first water. None of your bare-legged slotch-puddles, with a figure as shapely as an ill-made wine-butt. She is a genuine offshoot of the Saxon nobility, I am told. I want thee to do a little delicate negotiation for me, such as thou art justly famous for. If thou do it well, thou shalt rise even higher in my esteem."
"Ah, I see; a delicate mission truly!"