"Don't you imagine you will have me for a wife unless you mend your manners very greatly. You shall have that dirty hussy of a Saxon for a wife, and I will have Jaques Leroux. He is a smarter man than you are, any day; and if I but put up my finger to him, he will run after me." "You don't mean it, Jeannette! Now, don't be cruel! You might just as well say that you love me, for I know you do at heart, and you are only teasing me, as usual. I know you wouldn't have brought me this nice supper if you hadn't thought something of me. Now, isn't it so, Jeannette? Just give me a kiss, and say you forgive me for that Saxon wench, and then I shall be happy;" and Paul endeavoured gallantly to plant a kiss on Jeannette's rosy cheek. "Here, get off, will you, or else I'll scratch you!" said Jeannette, violently pushing Paul away. "I'm not going to go shares with a dirty Saxon. Mark that, Paul Lazaire! You will have to mend your manners before you kiss me, I can tell you that much!" "There you go again, Jeannette. You never will forget about that Saxon wench, I do believe; and you know it was only a joke." "Now, just get your supper, and give up fooling, will you? or your ale will be cold, and I shall go away and leave you," was the very irresponsive reply of the dame. Paul was really madly in love with Jeannette, but still he had to spare a considerable amount of affection for the steaming tankard of mulled ale and the victuals, which she had brought him. So he raised the tankard to his lips, and gave a hearty drink. "Bravo, Jeannette!" said he, smacking his lips. "What a lovely brew it is to be sure! How it warms the pit of my stomach! You'll make me a happy man some day, I do declare, Jeannette." "Now you are fooling again!" said Jeannette, giggling most immoderately at the gusto with which, unsuspectingly, he swallowed the potion. "Now, get your supper. I cannot spend the whole night with you here. So be quick, or I shall be missed." Thus exhorted, Paul fell on the victuals with right good will, and drained to the dregs the tankard of spiced ale, all the while interspersing his feeding by casting pitiful glances at Jeannette, which made that mercurial young damsel giggle more immoderately still. "Don't go, Jeannette," said he beseechingly, as Jeannette was about to turn away. "It is a long time to the next watch, and you can't imagine how creepy I feel in this passage, with that fearful Saxon inside clanking his irons, and tearing about, and not a soul within call if he should break loose." "Is that the cell in which he is confined?" "Yes, but he is very quiet just now. Perhaps he hears us talking; but I can hear him tugging at the chains sometimes as though he would tear the place down. He makes me feel as if next moment he'd burst open the door, and murder me. He is a most desperate fellow. You should have seen how he fought on that wall; and there was another one who escaped, a fearful man, too, at his weapons."