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Updated: June 11, 2025
"You should have seen her looks when your friend M. Jones praised Miss Newcome! She ground her teeth with fury. Tiens ce petit sournois de Kiou! He always spoke of her as a mere sac d'argent that he was about to marry an ingot of the cite une fille de Lord Maire. Have all English bankers such pearls of daughters?
Where at length the Bishop had paused, awaiting comment of some kind, Hugh d'Argent, removing his eyes from the rafters, had asked: "When, my lord, do you propose to meet the Prioress, should my wife, upon learning the truth, elect to return to the Nunnery?"
Then, after having presented in succession the offerings, viz. the wine in a vase of gold, the Pain d'Argent, the Pain d'Or, he resumes his sceptre and his Main de Justice and returns to the throne. After the benediction, the Grand Almoner goes and takes the kiss of peace from the Archbishop, and then goes and gives it to the King.
If you have ever been in Bourges, you may have seen the little Rue Sous- les-Ceps, the Cours du Bat d'Argent and de la Fleur-de-lys, the Rues de la Merede-Dieu, des Verts-Galants, Mausecret, du Moulin-le-Roi, the Quai Messire-Jacques, and other streets whose ancient names, preserved by a praiseworthy sentiment or instinctive conservatism, betoken an ancient city still inhabited by old-fashioned people, by which I mean people attached to the soil, strongly marked with the stamp of the provincial in manners as in language; people who understand all that a name is to a street its honor, its spouse if you will, from which it must not be divorced.
I agree with you, that 'point d'argent, point d'Allemand', as was used to be said, and not without more reason, of the Swiss; but, as we have neither the inclination nor I fear the power to give subsidies, the Court of Vienna can give good things that cost them nothing, as archbishoprics, bishoprics, besides corrupting their ministers and favorite with places.
"I must take her cross of office, my Lord Bishop," said the Knight, with decision. The Bishop went to a chest, standing in one corner of the room, opened it, and bent over it, his back to Hugh d'Argent; then, slipping his hand into his bosom drew therefrom a cross of gold gleaming with emeralds.
Martin Goodfellow hesitated. He knew something of love, and as much as an honest man may know, of women. He shrewdly suspicioned what she would expect the Knight to be doing. He was sorely tempted to give a fancy picture of Sir Hugh d'Argent, in his lovelorn loneliness.
"Look at the Lion d'Argent and Pierrotin's coach; they are not a bit like what they were fourteen years ago." "Pierrotin now controls the whole service of the Valley of the Oise," replied Monsieur Leger, "and sends out five coaches. He is the bourgeois of Beaumont, where he keeps a hotel, at which all the diligences stop, and he has a wife and daughter who are not a bad help to him."
"Good my lord," she said, her eagerness allowing of scant ceremony, "comes Sir Hugh d'Argent hither this night?" "Aye," replied the Bishop, looking with kindly eyes upon Mora's old nurse. "Within two hours, he should be here." "Comes he alone, my lord?" asked Mistress Deborah.
As her eyes met his, Hugh d'Argent knew that his betrothed was once more his own. His heart ceased pounding; his pulses beat steadily. The calm of a vast, glad certainty enfolded him; a joy beyond belief. Yet he knew now that he had been sure of it, ever since he came up from the depths of the Severn into the summer sunshine, grasping the white stone.
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