It was a long sleep. The wash maiden was too timid to wake them and let them sleep well hidden in the bundles of warm linen. Campy and the Belgian were snug and tight to each other. The Belgian rested his head on Girlymann's chest, his arms wrapped around his hero. Though Campy was awake, and ravenous, he didn't want to wake the faithful domestic.
When he felt the Belgian stir Campy woke him with a kiss and the two emerged from the sacks of laundry looking for their clothes.
"Psst," Campy got the attention of the maid and she blushed rushing to get their clothes that were clean, warm and dry.
When they dressed the maid presented them with a tray that held hot coffee, cream, warm croissants and elderberry jam. They attacked it, using bits of their fresh rolls to clean the plate. The sun was coming in through the small window. It looked like a good day, blue sky and what seemed to be a tranquil situation from the shouting and yelling of the day before.
Both men knew they would have to soon leave. The maid seemed nervous and kept an eye on the door that led to the interior of the estate. Both bikes were ready and Campy wondered how they could leave without too much notice. He decided the best thing to do was for them to take their bikes and chances. He opened the door and peered out, not much going on, perhaps they could ride off without any notice, so he motioned for the Belgian to follow.
They were both in the courtyard in back ready to mount their bikes when they heard a man yell.
"Stop."
To be continued....
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