He let her go from his arms, and stepped to the battlements. His gaze moved over the square of the fortress, and eastward to that blur of whiteness which hinted the enemy's tents, the hint being verified by a light or two.
"I have a word to tell you," said Marguerite, leaning beside her husband.
"I have this to tell thee," said the Swiss. "We must leave Acadia." His arm again fondled her, and he comforted his sore spirit with an instant's thought of home and peace somewhere.
"Yes. We can go to Penobscot," she said.
"Penobscot?" he repeated with suspicion.
"The king will give you a grant of Penobscot."
"The king will give it to—me?"
"Yes. And it is a great seigniory."
"How do you know the king will do that?"
"He told me to tell you; he promised it."