"The king? You never saw the king."
"No."
"D'Aulnay?"
"Yes."
"I would I had him by the throat!" burst out Klussman. Marguerite leaned her cheek on the stone and sighed. The bay seemed full of salty spice. It was a night in which the human soul must beat against casements to break free and roam the blessed dark. All of spring was in the air. Directly overhead stood the north star, with slow constellations wheeling in review before him.
"So D'Aulnay sent you to spy on my lord, as my lord believed?"
"You shall not call me a spy. I came to my husband. I hate him," she added in a resentful burst. "He made me walk the marshes, miles and miles alone, carrying that child."
"Why the child?"
"Because the people from St. John would be sure to pity it."
"And what word did he send you to tell me?" demanded Klussman. "Give me that word."