“Come, Annaïk,” he cried; “why are you asleep when all the others go to dance upon the village green?”
“I do not wish to go to the dance, for I fear the Marquis of Guérande,” replied the girl.
The Clerk of Garlon laughed. “The Marquis of Guérande cannot harm you so long as I am with you,” he said lightly. “Come, Annaïk; were there a hundred such as he I should protect you from them.”
Reassured by her lover’s brave words, the girl rose and put on her dress of white delaine. They were a joyous and beautiful pair. The Clerk was gaily dressed, with a peacock’s feather in his hat and a chain on his breast, while his betrothed wore a velvet corsage embroidered with silver.
On that evening the Marquis of Guérande leaped on his great red steed and sallied forth from his château. Galloping along the road, he overtook the Clerk of Garlon and his betrothed on their way to the dance.
“Ha!” he cried, “you go to the dance, I see. It is customary to wrestle there, is it not?”
“It is, Seigneur,” replied the Clerk, doffing his hat.
“Then throw off your doublet and let us try a fall or two,” said Guérande, with a wicked look at Annaïk which was not lost upon her lover.
“Saving your grace, I may not wrestle with you,” said the Clerk, “for you are a gentleman and I am nobody. You are the son of a lord and I am the son of a peasant.”