"Whatever pleases thee, pleases me," said Edward, drily; and he gave
the order to the attendant. In a few moments, up the space in the
hall, between either table, came the large stride of the famous
minstrel, preceded by the officer and followed by the ecclesiastic.
The hoods of both were now thrown back, and discovered countenances in
strange contrast, but each equally worthy of the attention it
provoked. The face of the minstrel was open and sunny as the day; and
that of the priest, dark and close as night. Thick curls of deep
auburn (the most common colour for the locks of the Norman) wreathed
in careless disorder round Taillefer's massive unwrinkled brow. His
eye, of light hazel, was bold and joyous; mirth, though sarcastic and
sly, mantled round his lips. His whole presence was at once engaging
and heroic.

On the other hand, the priest's cheek was dark and sallow; his
features singularly delicate and refined; his forehead high, but
somewhat narrow, and crossed with lines of thought; his mien composed,
modest, but not without calm self-confidence. Amongst that assembly
of soldiers, noiseless, self-collected, and conscious of his
surpassing power over swords and mail, moved the SCHOLAR.

William's keen eye rested on the priest with some surprise, not
unmixed with pride and ire; but first addressing Taillefer, who now
gained the foot of the dais, he said, with a familiarity almost fond:

"Now, by're Lady, if thou bringest not ill news, thy gay face, man, is
pleasanter to mine eyes that thy rough song to my ears. Kneel,
Taillefer, kneel to King Edward, and with more address, rogue, than
our unlucky countryman to King Charles."