Текст книги "Zipporah's Daughter"
Автор книги: Philippa Carr
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‘Armand was incensed by what happened to my mother. It evidently stirred him.’
‘To a hatred of the rabble?’
‘He always had that. But this brought home to him how much damage they could do. Well, he and his friends are getting together and they are going to do something. I think it’s a good thing, don’t you?’
‘That people should be aware of what is going on, yes.’
‘Dickon is always talking about it.’
‘Dickon! I thought when he was here he talked of other things!’
‘He does, but he talks a good deal about the state of affairs in France as well.’
‘What does he—the Englishman—know of French affairs?’
‘He seems to make it his business to find out.’
‘Does he tell you what he finds out?’
‘No. It is all rather secret, I gather. I accuse him of being on some mission.’
‘It would be against France, I suppose.’
‘I don’t know. He won’t talk of it.’
‘He is a fascinating man. I don’t know how you can resist him.’
I was very frank with Lisette as I had been in the past and I admitted that sometimes it was not easy.
She understood.
‘What if you married him?’ she said.
‘I have sworn never to leave my father.’
‘He would not wish you to stay, surely, if you would be happier married.’
‘It would be too much for him. If he knew I wanted to go he would say I should, I know. Think of it. I should take the children with me. It would be too cruel.’
‘And me … ? Would you take me with you?’
‘But of course you would come. You and Louis-Charles.’
‘I think the Comte is a little bit fond of Louis-Charles. Do you agree?’
‘I am sure he is. Louis-Charles is a delightful boy.’
‘I fancy I see the Comte’s eyes on him now and then, which is rather strange, don’t you think?’
‘No, I don’t. The Comte likes lively children. He is desperately missing my mother and the best thing that can happen to him is to have children in the house.’
‘His own … yes. But the way in which he looks at Louis-Charles … ’
‘Oh, Lisette, stop being so obsessed.’
‘With what?’ she asked sharply.
‘With position. You are always remembering that you are the niece of the housekeeper.’
‘Well, am I not?’
‘Yes, but it is not important.’
‘It is … now,’ she answered. ‘If those agitators had their way, perhaps it would be a good thing to be the niece of the housekeeper and not such a good thing to be the daughter of a Comte.’
‘What an absurd conversation! How do you think my hair would look with this green feather stuck in it at a ridiculous angle?’
‘Very amusing … and far more important than all this talk about boring matters.’ She snatched the green feather from me. ‘Here! Let’s put it there, so that it sticks right up at the back. Isn’t that grand?’
I gazed at my image in the mirror and grimaced at Lisette, who was watching me with her head on one side.
About a week later we had a visit from the Duc de Soissonson. This was quite unexpected and put the household in a turmoil.
Tante Berthe complained that she should have been told and immediately set to work ordering her staff in her usual efficient and peremptory manner. They were busy in the kitchens. The cook plunged into her prodigious memory and remembered that when the Duc had last stayed at the château, which was twelve years before, he had shown a preference for a very special potage, the recipe for which was a guarded secret known only to her family.
In appearance the Duc was quite insignificant, in spite of his wealth which I gathered was immense, and his influence in the country was also great.
He chided my father for not visiting Paris nowadays.
‘I heard what happened to the Comtesse,’ he said. ‘A sorry business. This rabble … I wish we could do something about them. Did they find the ringleaders?’
My father, with great emotion, said that they had been unable to trace the agitator who was the real villain. It was impossible to accuse a mob. They had rioted and in the mêlée the horses had been frightened and the carriage overturned.
‘We ought to put a stop to it,’ said the Duc. ‘Don’t you agree?’
‘With all my heart,’ answered my father. ‘If I could find those responsible … ’
I wanted to beg the Duc not to talk about it.
We sat down to dine in the great hall of the castle. Tante Berthe and the cooks had certainly made sure that all the culinary and domestic arrangements ran smoothly and I was sure there could not have been more attention to detail in the ducal establishment itself.
The Duc, however, did not stand on ceremony. He was friendly and easy-going and conversation at the table was far from stilted.
Inevitably it drifted to the troubles in France and my heart sank as I looked at my father.
‘Something should be done about it,’ said Armand. I noticed he was eyeing the Duc speculatively and I wondered whether he was contemplating asking him to join his band. ‘These fellows are getting really dangerous.’
‘I agree,’ said the Duc. ‘Something should be done. But what, my dear fellow, what?’
‘Well, we should stand together … those of us who want to keep law and order.’
‘Stand together … that is the idea,’ cried the Duc.
‘We are not going to stand idly by,’ Armand told him.
‘Certainly not!’ went on the Due. ‘Nice boys you have here, Comte. I watched them from my window. Grandsons, I suppose.’
‘One of them,’ said my father. ‘And I have a granddaughter too. I hope you will meet them before you leave us.’
‘I want to do that. Do you have a tutor for the boys?’
‘Strange you should say that. We are in fact looking out for one now.’
‘Léon Blanchard,’ said the Due.
‘What’s that, Soissonson?’ asked my father.
‘I said Léon Blanchard … best man in that line, my cousin’s boy Jean-Pierre tells me. Ought to get him for your boys, but I suppose you couldn’t do that. Jean-Pierre wouldn’t let him go.’
‘I dare say we shall find a good man.’
‘It’s not easy,’ said the Duc. ‘A bad tutor can be a disaster, a good one worth his weight in gold.’
‘I agree with that,’ said my father.
Armand put in: ‘There are quite a number of us. We are not going to stand by and let the mob take over in these small towns.’.
‘Mind you,’ the Duc was saying, ‘Jean-Pierre employs the man only two or three days a week now. I wonder … ’
‘You mean the tutor?’ I asked.
‘Yes, the tutor. He’s the man. You ought to try and get hold of him. He might manage three days a week. Three days with the right man is better than the whole week with the wrong one.’
‘I think you are probably right,’ said my father.
‘Leave it to me,’ said the Duc. ‘My cousin was telling me about this man and how pleased Jean-Pierre was with him. Said his boys were getting too old for a tutor now. They’ll be going to their university soon. But they still get coaching for two or three days a week. I’ll ask.’ He shook his finger at my father. ‘You will be most unwise to engage anyone else until you have seen Léon Blanchard.’
‘We must certainly see the man,’ said my father. ‘It is good of you, Duc, to take such an interest.’
‘Nice boys,’ said the Duc. ‘Look as if. hey should have the best.’
The Duc de Soissonson spent three days with us. He talked a great deal to my father and continued to chide him for shutting himself away from his friends. My father presented Charlot to him, and because I felt that Lisette was more hurt to see her son left out than she had been for herself, I arranged that Louis-Charles should be presented to the Duc at the same time.
He was a little vague and seemed unsure which boy was his friend’s grandson but he was very complimentary about them both. After he had gone, my father said: I hope he doesn’t forget about the tutor. He can be a little vague.’
But the Duc did not forget and in less than a week after his departure, Léon Blanchard came to see us.
We were all impressed by Léon Blanchard. There was about him an air of dignity and a certain indifference whether or not he was employed, which was unusual in someone applying for a post. Not that there was anything insolent in his demeanour—far from it. His manners were impeccable. My father said to me afterwards that it was probably because several others were trying to secure his services.
His dress proclaimed him to be something of a dandy; his white wig accentuated his blue eyes which were startling in his dark face; his high cheekbones and lean looks were quite attractive. His clothes were of good though far from gaudy material, his shoes sturdy but of fine good leather. He had a pleasant voice and because his manner and speech and everything about him suggested a man of breeding he was treated as such.
He was in my father’s private sitting-room when I was called in to meet him.
My father said: ‘You had better tell Monsieur Blanchard what will be required.’
Monsieur Blanchard took my hand and bowed over it. He could have come straight from Versailles.
‘I am very glad that you have come to see us, Monsieur Blanchard,’ I said.
‘I could not ignore a command from the Duc de Soissonson, Madame,’ replied Monsieur Blanchard, smiling.
‘Oh, was it a command?’
‘A very urgent request. The Duc is anxious that I shall be of help to you.’
‘Then I hope we can come to some arrangement.’
We talked about the boys and what they had learned so far. He shook his head gravely implying that they must certainly be in need of his tuition.
‘It would be my pleasure to take on that task,’ he said. ‘But it may well be that your boys need a full-time tutor.’
‘That was what we were hoping for,’ I said.
‘Then, Madame, I cannot be of service. I have two charges whom I must see into the university. They are advanced and I spend three days at the Château de Castian. They are connections of the Duc de Soissonson, as you are probably aware. I could not desert them at this stage and in the circumstances would only have four days a week to spare here. You see how I am placed.’
My father said: ‘These boys you are teaching … I understand they will in due course go to the university.’
‘Indeed they will, Monsieur le Comte, but until they do I am in duty bound to stay with them.’
‘It does not sound very difficult to me. You could spend four days of each week here and the other time with your present pupils. How would that work out?’
‘Excellently, if it were not necessary to tie me down. I could come here and teach your boys for four days of the week. But there might be a time when I would feel it necessary to give an extra day to my original pupils …who … forgive my saying so … have first claim on me.’
‘It does not seem an insurmountable problem,’ I said.
Then we laughed and chatted and it was agreed that Léon Blanchard should come to us for part of the week and if he should need a day off to spend with the boys of Castian, no obstacle would be put in the way of his taking it.
When he left we had agreed that he should start at the beginning of the next week.
After he had left my father said he thought it was an excellent arrangement. It would give us a chance to see how we liked each other.
I was pleased to see my father in an almost merry mood. I had Léon Blanchard and the boys to thank for that.
So Léon Blanchard came into our household and he appeared to be a great asset.
First, the boys liked him. He had a knack of making lessons interesting. He came to table with us. He, being such a gentleman, had made that natural and the servants accepted him, which was in itself something of a miracle because they usually took umbrage if anyone, as they would say “stepped out of their class”. I was not sure into which class a tutor fitted, but it seemed that in Léon Blanchard’s case there was no question. He fitted naturally.
I thought Lisette might be a little put out because he took meals with us, something which I had wanted her to do, but she had refused. However, at least she showed no resentment.
He used to sit over the dinner table and talk with my father, usually about the state of the country. He had travelled widely and could discuss other countries with first-hand knowledge; and he could be very entertaining. He had a wonderful gift of words and could create a scene vividly with a few well-chosen sentences.
‘I am grateful to the Duc for sending us such a man,’ said my father.
There was one thing he did which was the most outstanding of all.
One day he was looking for the boys and strayed up to Sophie’s turret. Thinking that part of the castle was uninhabited, he opened a door and walked in. Sophie and Jeanne were playing a card game together.
I can imagine her horror. Fortunately she was wearing her hood and that must have saved her considerable embarrassment.
She must have been horrified, for the rest of the household respected her wish for privacy and whenever we did attempt to see her we did so by asking Jeanne if it were possible first.
Lisette got out of Jeanne exactly how it had happened.
‘There was Mademoiselle Sophie seated at the table,’ said Jeanne, ‘and this man was walking into the room. I stood up and asked what he wanted. He guessed I was a servant and went straight to Mademoiselle Sophie. She got to her feet, her face scarlet with mortification, and he took her hand and bowed and explained that he was the tutor looking for his charges and she must forgive him for the intrusion. Well, she surprised me. She asked him to be seated. He looked at her as though he was interested. She always says she is hideous but that isn’t so. With her hood on she looks like a lady wearing a special fashion, and fashions, heaven knows, are crazy enough these days. She asked him to take a glass of wine with us and there she was telling him how she had got her scars. I’d never heard her talk like that with anyone before. She explained her terror when the crowds pressed in on her … and the pain … and everything.
‘He listened attentively and said he could well understand her horror of crowds. People en masse could be terrifying. And he said he thought what a charming fashion it was to wear a hood in the way she did. It would be the rage at Court if she appeared there in it. She said she was not likely to do that, but it was clear that she enjoyed his company and when he rose to go he apologized once more for coming in so unceremoniously, and he asked if he might come again. You could have knocked me down with a feather when she said he might.’
How amazing it was that this stranger had been able to break through what had seemed an impenetrable barrier.
Even Lisette was a little charmed by him, and I thought what a happy solution it would be if he married her. She needed a happy married life. Her experiences with the farmer whom, I began to understand, she had come near to loathing, had embittered her in some way. I was sure that a happy marriage with an attractive man would heal her wounds.
Lisette and I found great pleasure in riding together and we often tied up the horses and stretched ourselves on the grass and indulged in the pleasure of light-hearted conversation. Lisette was an inveterate gossip and if she could discover a hint of scandal about anyone in the neighbourhood she was delighted. What she liked most was discussing the royal family. She had the Frenchwoman’s dislike for Marie Antoinette and declared her belief in the rumours about her when they were scandalous. She often went into the town and once brought back two books which were allegedly about the Queen. One was Les Amours de Charlot and ’Toinette which told of the supposed love-affair between the Queen and her brother-in-law Charles, Comte d’Artois. The other was even worse. This was Essai Historique sur la Vie de Marie Antoinette … a scurrilous production.
I read it with indignation and told Lisette she should burn the book. ‘It is obviously full of lies,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’
‘I think it is only fair that when queens behave immorally they should not be allowed to escape criticism. Think what happens to poor girls who are not queens. One false step and their lives are ruined.’
‘But this is lies. You have only to read it to see through it. It is written by someone who hates the Queen.’
‘It is printed in secret but that does not prevent people seeing it. I was told that you could buy it in most of the towns, and all over the country people are reading about the private life of their queen. So why shouldn’t I?’
‘No sensible people will mistake such rubbish for truth.’
Lisette looked at me slyly. ‘I will not show you anything else,’ she said.
‘I hope you will not show this sort of thing to anyone.’
‘How fierce you are! It is only a joke.’
‘It wouldn’t be to the Queen.’
‘I am sure she would laugh. They say she is very frivolous.’
I refused to discuss the scandals about the Queen with Lisette and she stopped talking about them. Instead she talked about Léon Blanchard and marvelled that he had become quite friendly with Sophie.
‘Lottie,’ she said one day, ‘do you think he might marry Sophie?’
‘Marry Sophie! She would never marry.’
‘Why not? She allows him to visit her. Hasn’t she changed since he came?’
I flushed a little. A short while ago I had been thinking he might be a suitable husband for Lisette.
‘I know,’ went on Lisette, ‘he is only a tutor and not therefore of the right social standing to mate with the daughter of a Comte, but she is scarred … damaged goods, you might say.’
‘Don’t talk about Sophie like that!’ I said sharply.
‘You are soft, Lottie. Women in families like this one are regarded as so much merchandize or bargaining counters. Marriages are made for them … suitable marriages. Poor Sophie is not of the same value as she once was. I am sorry if I offended you by referring to her as damaged goods, but that is really what she is.’
‘If she could marry and have children, it would be wonderful. She looks quite pretty in her hoods.’
‘But for a husband she would have to take off her hood.’
‘I think Léon Blanchard is a very kind man.’
Lisette was silent.
‘I should be happy if she married,’ I went on. ‘I would cease … ’
‘To feel guilty for marrying the one who was to have married her?’
‘I know she had rejected him.’
‘For good reason. Oh, Lottie, you should never feel guilty in life. What happens happens, and if one person’s tragedy is another’s good fortune that is all the luck of the game.’
Sometimes Lisette made me see myself too clearly for comfort. I did feel guilty though, and if Sophie would only marry and be happy I should be able to wash all guilty feelings from my mind.
Lisette smiled at me knowingly.
‘Let us pray for a match between them … for her sake and for yours.’
It really seemed as though this might not be impossible. Sophie had changed. She even joined us for dinner now and then. She sat next to Léon and seemed to draw comfort from him and she began to look prettier in her beautifully coloured hoods, and there was a certain contentment visible on her face.
What a change since Léon Blanchard had come to our household!
Armand talked about his friends when we gathered over the meal and the servants had brought in the last of the dishes. There would be an atmosphere then almost of conspiracy.
‘These agitators are doing their work more frequently now,’ said Armand. ‘There was one in Aurillac last week. The trouble is we never know when they are going to strike. It is the same procedure every time. A man suddenly gets up in the market-place, begins to harangue the crowd, tells them how they are maltreated, rouses them to fury and usually that starts it.’
‘Why is it that you cannot find out where they are likely to be?’ asked Leon. ‘If you did … and your band could be there waiting for them … ’
‘We plan to have our agents watching for them, visiting the towns, listening. We shall catch up with them in time. Then we shall be ready for them. You should join us, Blanchard.’
‘I doubt I should have the time. But if I had I should be with you.’
‘I am sure we could arrange something.’
‘Unfortunately I have to prepare lessons for my pupils. I think perhaps that in taking on two sets of them I may have given myself too much.’
My father said: ‘Of course Monsieur Blanchard has not time to join your band, Armand. You should know better than to ask him.’
Any suggestion that Blanchard might leave threw my father into a panic. He had assured himself that having been recommended by the Duc de Soissonson, Blanchard must indeed be the best possible tutor. His coming had made such a difference to us all. The boys seemed to enjoy their lessons; they were more docile, more serious; the Comte himself enjoyed Léon’s conversation and would miss his company; but perhaps above all was what he had done for Sophie. It was so much more natural that she should join us for meals and live like a normal member of the family. Shutting herself away in her turret had been most unhealthy.
‘I shall see what can be done,’ said Léon. ‘I do realize the importance of your mission. It may well be that I can find a little time … ’
Armand was delighted and beamed his approval of Léon Blanchard. He went on to talk at length of the aims and intention of his band.
I often wondered what it was about Léon Blanchard that people seemed to find so attractive. I myself was growing interested in him but that was because I was seeing him as a possible husband for Sophie; but I did find he was in my thoughts very often.
One day when I returned from a ride I saw him going into the stables and I was suddenly aware of an extraordinary feeling, almost as though I remembered living that moment before.
It was uncanny. A kind of déjà vu.
Léon turned and faced me and the strange feeling vanished. He bowed with his customary graciousness and remarked that it was an excellent day for a ride.
That summer Dickon visited us again. He came unexpectedly and caught me completely off my guard. With characteristic aplomb he expected to be warmly welcomed. I told him that he should have warned us but he really was behaving as though my father’s château was one of the family homes. ‘Anywhere you are I think of as my home,’ he said.
I told him he was ridiculous and I should have to make his excuses to my father.
My father, however, had taken quite a fancy to him. It was not surprising. When my father had been young he must have been a little like Dickon. They both possessed an overwhelming masculinity and therefore perhaps irresistible charm for the opposite sex; deeply rooted in this was an assurance that they would be welcome wherever they went.
Dickon told me that he had two reasons for coming to France. One he need not explain because it was obvious: Myself. The other was that France was becoming the most interesting country in Europe and the eyes of the rest of the continent were fixed on it asking, What is going to happen next? Wildly conflicting stories were circulated about the Queen’s diamond necklace and the whole of Europe was agog for news. Some reports said it had been a gigantic swindle to discredit the Queen, but her enemies were sure that she had been involved in the conspiracy. The French exchequer was in a dire state and everywhere the Queen was blamed for her extravagance. The necklace was just another excuse to denigrate her. She was becoming known as Madame Deficit. In Paris there were demonstrations against her.
Dickon was very interested to meet Leon Blanchard. He regarded him intently and said: ‘I have heard your praises sung throughout the household, Monsieur. I understand the boys profit from your excellent tuition. I have two myself so you will forgive me if I am a trifle envious. We have tutors who never seem to be able to endure my sons for more than a few months. What is your special secret?’
‘I think,’ answered Léon, ‘it is to make the lessons interesting, to understand the young and to treat them as individuals.’
‘Monsieur Blanchard certainly has the gift,’ said my father warmly.
It was obvious even at the first meal that Dickon was eager to find out all he could about what was happening in France.
‘What do you think of this necklace affair?’ he asked.
Leon Blanchard said: ‘The Queen does not understand the state of the country and the effect her extravagances are having on the people.’
Armand put in: ‘The people will never be satisfied. The Court has to preserve its dignity. It is quite clear that the Queen has been cheated over this matter of the necklace and rogues and vagabonds have sought to commit a great fraud and have used her name to bring it about.’
‘That certainly seems to be the decision of the courts,’ said my father.
‘The people are rising against her,’ added Léon. ‘They blame her for everything.’
‘They have to have a scapegoat,’ replied Armand. ‘I am for harsher punishment for the rioters. We shall track them down eventually.’
‘Have you had any luck in discovering who the people are who are causing all this dissension?’ asked Dickon.
‘It’s organized,’ said Armand. ‘That much we know. We don’t so much want to catch members of the mob as the people who are inciting them. That is our motive.’
‘But what are you doing about it?’ insisted Dickon.
‘Don’t imagine we are standing aside and letting them ruin this country,’ cried Armand. ‘We are going to find these people, I tell you. We are very busy doing just that.’
Léon Blanchard said: ‘The Vicomte is deeply concerned with what is happening and has formed a band of men who share his opinions. I am happy to be one of them. We are doing very good work. I, alas, cannot be of as much use as I would wish. I have my work to consider … ’
‘You are doing excellent work with us,’ said Armand.
I watched Sophie while Léon was speaking. I was surprised that she had joined us as we had a visitor. Dickon had not shown by a flicker of his eyelids that he was surprised by her presence; he had talked to her naturally and although she was a little quiet she appeared to be at ease. In fact she looked pretty in a gown of pale lavender and a hood to match. I noticed how often her eyes rested on Léon Blanchard and although I was glad to see her changed and happier, I did feel a certain apprehension as to what the future held for her. Was it really possible that he would marry her? If he would, some of the happiness she had known during her engagement to Charles might be brought back to her.
Armand was talking enthusiastically about the work he and his band were doing, gathering together noblemen from the outlying districts. ‘We’ll get these agitators,’ he cried. ‘They’ll get their just deserts and that will hit at the root of the trouble.’
When we left the table Dickon said he wanted to take a walk round the ramparts and asked if I would join him.
I said I would. I took a wrap and we went to the top of the tower and walked round the path, pausing now and then to lean on the stone between the battlements and look out over the countryside.
Dickon said: ‘It looks deceptively peaceful, doesn’t it?’
I agreed.
He put an arm round me. ‘You shouldn’t stay here, you know. It’s going to blow up at any minute.’
‘You have been saying that for a very long time.’
‘It has been simmering for a long time.’
‘Then perhaps it will go on for a little while yet.’
‘But not too long a while, and when it comes the deluge will be terrible. Marry me, Lottie. That is what you should do.’
‘And come to England?’
‘Of course. Eversleigh awaits you and the children. My mother hopes every time I come to France that when I return you will be with me … you and the children to grow up with mine. Of course, I can’t promise you such a paragon of a tutor as Monsieur Blanchard appears to be. Who is that man, by the way? He is a very distinctive character.’
‘Did you think so? You have only seen him at dinner.’
‘He’s the sort of man who makes his presence felt. He seems to have changed the whole household. Not you perhaps. I hope your thralldom is for one only.’
I did enjoy Dickon’s company. I liked the way he could be light-hearted when discussing the most serious subjects.
‘I am in thrall to no one, Dickon,’ I answered. ‘You should know that.’
‘To my sadness, yes. But why don’t you come to England? Get away from this cauldron of discontent.’
‘Which you have said several times is on the point of boiling over.’
‘It will be no joke when it does. Some will be sadly scalded. But not my Lottie. I shall not permit that. It would be much easier though if you summoned up your good sense and left while it is easy to do so.’
‘I can’t go, Dickon. I won’t leave my father.’
‘Eversleigh is a very big house. Don’t underestimate it because you have passed your days in châteaux. Let him come too.’
‘He never would. This is his home, his country.’
‘A country, my dear, from which men such as he is will soon be trying to escape.’
‘He never would and I would not leave him.’
‘You care more for him than for me.’
‘But of course. He loves me. He brought me here to acknowledge me. I have been treated as his daughter. You chose Eversleigh.’
‘Will you never forget that?’
‘How can I? It is there while you are there. You are Eversleigh and I was the one whom you rejected for its sake.’ I laid my hand on his arm. ‘Oh, Dickon, I have forgiven it … if there was anything to forgive. You were just behaving naturally as Nature designed you should. No. What I mean is that it is not important any more. But I won’t come to England while my father lives. You can see how he relies on me. If I went and took the children—and I would never go without them—what would happen to him?’
‘I know his feelings for you. That is obvious. You are the one. Poor Sophie means little to him and he does not like his son overmuch. I see that. I am not surprised. Armand is a fool. What is all this about a band?’
‘It’s some sort of society … an organization. They are trying to scent out agitators.’
‘I gathered that, but with any success?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘But what do they do?
‘They meet and talk … ’
‘And talk and talk,’ said Dickon derisively. ‘That sort of thing should be done in secret. He should not announce his plans at the dinner table.’
‘Well, it is the family.’
‘Not entirely. There is the tutor for one.’
‘Oh, but he is one of them. Armand eventually persuaded him and Monsieur Blanchard is very obliging. He likes to live on good terms with everyone. He did plead too much work at first but eventually he agreed.’
