Jean Peuquoy almost leaped for joy.
"Upon my word, I really think that you do very wisely," said Lord Wentworth. "Not that I should not have been delighted to entertain you as best I could; but in a house guarded night and day by soldiers, and where my tedious authority requires me to maintain strict rules, you might not have found yourself always at your ease, as you will with the brave armorer. And a young man has need to be at his ease, we all know."
"You seem to know it, at all events," said Gabriel, laughing; "and I can see that you know the full value of independence."
"Yes, indeed I do!" rejoined Lord Wentworth, in the same playful tone; "I am not yet old enough to despise liberty."
Then, turning to Jean Peuquoy,—
"Do you rely upon your cousin's purse, Master Peuquoy," said he, "in your own behalf, as you rely upon his house when Monsieur d'Exmès's welfare is in question? Lord Grey told me that you expected to borrow the hundred crowns agreed upon for your ransom."
"Whatever Pierre owns belongs to Jean," was the burgher's sententious reply; "it is always so with the Peuquoys. I was so sure beforehand that my cousin's house was mine that I have already sent Monsieur d'Exmès's wounded squire there; and I am so sure too that his purse is as open to me as his door that I beg you to send one of your people with me to bring back the sum agreed upon."
"Useless, Master Peuquoy," said Lord Wentworth; "and you also are free to go on parole. I will come and call upon Vicomte d'Exmès at Pierre Peuquoy's to-morrow or the next day; and I will select, as an equivalent of the sum due my brother-in-law, one of the beautiful suits of armor which your cousin makes so well."
"As you please, my Lord," said Jean.
"Meanwhile, Monsieur d'Exmès," said the governor, "need I say to you that as often as you choose to knock at my door you will be as welcome as you are at liberty not to do it at all? I repeat, life is rather dull at Calais, as you will soon discover, no doubt; and you will enter into an alliance with me, I trust, against our common enemy, ennui. Your presence is a very great boon, by which I desire to profit as much as possible. If you keep away from me, I shall importune you, I give you fair warning; and remember too, that I only give you a sort of half liberty, and that the friend ought to bring the prisoner here with him often."