“Yes, captain?”
“We are here, captain.”
Their innocence was sublime. No school-boy could have equalled it. Bertrand struggled hard to hide a smile.
“You are too noisy, you two. Stand back and remember your manners.”
They stood back, yet ready to wink at the first chance.
“Certainly, captain. We were amusing ourselves a little.”
“Cease to be amused.”
And for the life of him Bertrand could not bully them further when they looked at him like a pair of rough and mischievous dogs ready to come and lick his hands.
Two men in red and green were leading Madame Jeanne’s roan horse forward. She was still standing at the top of the steps, looking at Bertrand and biting her lower lip. All the prejudices of twenty years seemed shadowed forth upon her face. Even the cherished Olivier was afraid to meet her eyes.
Jeanne du Guesclin saw Bertrand take the roan’s bridle from the hands of one of the grooms. To those who watched her closely it seemed that some great struggle was passing behind the proud and full-lipped face. Her eyes had the strained look of an imperious nature to whom the bitterest ordeal may be the forgiving of defeat.