At
bed or board she's no mate for you. Something fights at her side, be it
angel or devil, or just raw chance. At the least she'll prove your ruin
unless you let her be."
"Then I'll be ruined, Nicholas, for I'll not leave her, for a while, at
any rate. What! de Noyon, whom they call Danger of Dames, beaten by a
country girl who has never seen London or Paris! I'd sooner die."
"As well may chance if the country lad and the country archer come back
with Edward's warrant in their pouch," answered the priest, shrugging
his lean shoulders. "Well, lord, what is your plan?"
"To carry her off. Can't we manage nine stone of womanhood between us?"
"If she were dead it might be done, though hardly--over these Suffolk
roads. But being very much alive with a voice to scream with, hands to
fight with, a brain to think with and friends who know her from here to
Yarmouth, or to Hull, and Monsieur Grey Dick's arrows pricking us behind
perchance--well, I don't know."
"Friend," said Acour, tapping him on the shoulder meaningly, "there must
be some way; there are always ways, and I pray you to hunt them out.
Come, find me one, or stay here alone to explain affairs, first to this
Dick whom you have so much upon the brain, and afterward to Edward of
England or his officers."
Father Nicholas looked at the great Count's face. Then he looked at the
ground, and, having studied it a while without result, turned his beady
eyes to the heavens, where it would seem that he found inspiration.
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