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 Bearn 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 Bearn, 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.