Queen-Regent or no Queen-Regent, I am mistress at Condillac; my word is the only law we know, and I intend that so it shall continue." Tressan looked at her in surprise.

This unreasoning, feminine obstinacy so wrought upon him that he permitted himself a smile and a lapse into irony and banter.
"Parfaitement," said he, spreading his hands, and bowing.

"Why speak of trouble, then ?" She beat her whip impatiently against her gown, her eyes staring into the fire.

"Because, my attitude being such as it is, trouble will there be." The Seneschal shrugged his shoulders, and moved a step towards her.

He was cast down to think that he might have spared himself the trouble of donning his beautiful yellow doublet from Paris.