Carro de Bodegat laughed maliciously.
“Messire du Guesclin, I feel for the lady.”
“Ascribe nothing to her, sir, but sorrow at seeing me condemned as a hypocrite.”
“True chivalry, messire; we can serve a petticoat when we cannot serve a country. What is your judgment, Brother Dubois?”
The elder man reflected before committing himself to an opinion.
“The thing seems reasonable, since it shows consideration for a lady. Then you ask this in all seriousness, Messire Bertrand du Guesclin?”
“Hang me as high as Haman, only grant this favor.”
Dubois smiled, like a man not sorry to avail himself of an advantage. Neither he nor De Bodegat had any love for Du Guesclin, and Tinteniac, more scrupulous, might seize the authority and spoil their retaliation.
“Well, sir, how would you contrive it?”
“Messire Dubois, here are plenty of trees.”