animal, on their first entrance, uttered a stifled growl, which
sounded from his deep chest like distant thunder. But he saw his
master, and acknowledged his presence by wagging his tail and
couching his head, abstaining from more tumultuous or noisy
greeting, as if his noble instinct had taught him the propriety
of silence in a sick man's chamber.

Beside the couch sat on a cushion, also composed of skins, the
Moorish physician of whom Sir Kenneth had spoken, cross-legged,
after the Eastern fashion. The imperfect light showed little of
him, save that the lower part of his face was covered with a
long, black beard, which descended over his breast; that he wore
a high TOLPACH, a Tartar cap of the lamb's wool manufactured at
Astracan, bearing the same dusky colour; and that his ample
caftan, or Turkish robe, was also of a dark hue. Two piercing
eyes, which gleamed with unusual lustre, were the only lineaments
of his visage that could be discerned amid the darkness in which
he was enveloped.

The English lord stood silent with a sort of reverential awe; for
notwithstanding the roughness of his general bearing, a scene of
distress and poverty, firmly endured without complaint or murmur,
would at any time have claimed more reverence from Thomas de Vaux
than would all the splendid formalities of a royal presence-chamber, unless that presence-chamber were
King Richard's own.
Nothing was for a time heard but the heavy and regular breathings
of the invalid, who seemed in profound repose.

"He hath not slept for six nights before," said Sir Kenneth, "as
I am assured by the youth, his attendant."