'Dare is not a word for Anjou, sire,' he replied, picking his phrases;
'but Bertran is not with me.' Before the old man could break again into
savagery he went on to his main purpose. 'Sire, short speeches are best.
You seek to draw my ill-humours, but you shall not draw them. As son and
servant of your Grace I came in, and so will go out. As a son I have
knelt to the King my father, as servant I am ready to obey him. Let that
marriage, designed in the cradle by the French King and you, go on. I
will do my part if Madame Alois will do hers.'

Richard folded his arms; the King sat down again. A queer exchange of
glances had passed between his father and brother at the mention of that
lady's name. Richard, who saw it, got the feeling of some secret between
them, the feeling of being in a trap; but he said nothing. The King
began his old harping.

'Attend to me now, Richard,' he said, with much work of the eyebrows;
'if that ill-gotten beast Bertran had been of your meinie our last words
had been said. Beast! He is a toothed snake, that crawled into my boy's
bed and bit passion into him. Lord Jesus, if ever again I meet Bertran,
help Thou me to redden his face! But as it is, I am content. Rest you
here with me, if so rough a lodging may content your nobility. As for
Madame Alois, she shall be sent for; but I think I will not meet your
bevy of joglars from the south. I have a proud stomach o' these days; I
doubt pastry from Languedoc would turn me sour; and liking monks little
enough as it is, your throstle-cock of Montauban might cause me to
blaspheme. See them entertained, Drago; or better, let them entertain
each other--with singing games, holy God! Go you, Bohun'--and he
turned--'fetch in Madame Alois.' Bohun went through a curtain behind
him, and the King sat in thought, biting his thumbs.