She hesitated, with a troubled light shining in her eyes. Bertrand saw her glance wistfully at Robin and her father.
“Bertrand.”
“I stand to serve you.”
“Take care of Robin for us, Bertrand; it would kill my father to lose the lad. And he is so young, though brave and strong enough. If—”
Bertrand reached for her hand and held it, his face transfigured as he looked into her eyes.
“Trust me,” he said.
“Ah!—”
“I will stand by the lad, and take the blows from him even with my own body. Tiphaïne, I have not forgotten.”
And Bertrand did not sleep that night with thinking of Tiphaïne and the Oak of Mivoie.