“Did you not see her? did you not see her, Canillac? As I hope to live before God, she is the loveliest piece of woman’s flesh I ever looked upon! I would give--I would give half my lands, half my life, that I had droits seignorial over her; but I have dues, dues only, and they are satisfied. She is free--a free woman of her own right, and can not be mine.” “Were I you, cousin, and I so desired her as you do, she _should_ be mine, ere nightfall!” “How so? how so?” asked the young man, sharply. “Did I not tell you she is free--free--that I have no droits over her, and do you tell me I can make her mine?” “What if she be? She is but a peasant-wench--one of the mere _canaille_. I would regard her squalling no more than a kitten’s mewing; nay, rather I would glory in it, for I am sick to death of your complaisant beauties. Besides, she is _not_ free, if she was born while her father was a serf, unless she was named in the deed of manumission.” “But she must have been born years afterward. Look at her, man: she could not have been born in my grandfather’s time.” “Deny that she is free. Have her up with us to the castle, now. Hold her there as a hostage, till she be proven free. If you be not aweary of her, ere the week is ended, I will find twenty men who shall swear she was born in the days of Sir Noah in the ark, if it be needful.” And he laughed scornfully. “By Heaven, I will not weary of her in a week of years! But it is well advised. I will essay it.” “Essay nothing: do it! Promise to hold her in all honor. Promises cost no man anything, nor oaths either, for that matter, which is fortunate; for, by mine honor, she is fitter to be a prince’s paramour than a _Jacque’s_ wife. So forward!” And, with the word, they galloped forward, and pausing exactly in front of the bride, who stood between her husband and the priest--shrinking with modesty and terror from the ardent and licentious gaze which he riveted on her glowing charms--he began to rate the latter for daring to wed a serf-girl to a free vassal without his lord’s consent, and the former for presuming to defraud his seigneur of his droits. In vain the good curate explained and expostulated; in vain twenty oaths were proffered by contemporaries of the girl’s grandsire, that she was free; in vain the husband tendered security, and offered rich donations; in vain the village-maidens grovelled before the young lord’s charger’s hoofs, and clasped his knees in an agony of fruitless supplication! The wrong was predetermined; the wronger was a strong man, armed; and how should humble innocence prevail against the might which makes the right, where violence is masterful, and law its abject servitor?