Abbot Milo), whether he had love in him. I doubt. But certainly he was a
poet. He saw Jehane all glorious, and gave thanks for the sight. He felt
to touch heaven when he neared her; but he did not covet her possession,
at the moment. Perhaps he felt that he did possess her: it is a poet's
way. So little, at any rate, did he covet, that, having made up his mind
what he would do, he sent Gaston of Béarn to Saint-Pol-la-Marche with a
letter for Jehane, in which he said: 'In two days I shall see you for
the last or for all time, as you will'--and then possessed himself in
patience the appointed number of hours.

Gaston of Béarn, romantic figure in those grey latitudes, pale,
black-eyed, freakishly bearded, dressed in bright green, rode his way
singing, announced himself to the lady as the Child of Love; and when he
saw her kissed her foot.

'Starry Wonder of the North,' he said, kneeling, 'I bring fuel to your
ineffable fires. Our King of Lovers and Lover among Kings is all at your
feet, sighing in this paper.' He seemed to talk in capitals, with a
flourish handed her the scroll. He had the gratification to see her clap
a hand to her side directly she touched it; but no more. She perused it
with unwavering eyes in a stiff head.

'Farewell, sir,' she said then; 'I will prepare for my lord.'

'And I, lady,' said Gaston, 'in consequence of a vow I have vowed my
saint, will await his coming in the forest, neither sleeping nor eating
until he has his enormous desires. Farewell, lady.'

He went out backwards, to keep his promise. The brown woodland was gay
with him for a day and a night; for he sang nearly all the time with