But now I will set the song again, and tell thee of a lady girdled with fine gold.

Beneath the girdle beats a red heart; but her spirit is like a spire of blue smoke, that comes from a fire, indeed, but strains up to heaven.

Warmed by that fire, like that smoke I fly up; and so I lie among the stars with Jehane.' Bertran's jaw was at work, mashing his tongue.

'Ah, Richard, is it so with thee?
Wait now while I strike a blow.' He made the viol scream.
'What if I twist the song awry, and give thee good cause to limp the sorrowful way?
What if for my aching belly I give thee an aching heart?
Eh, if my fingers scratch my side, there are worse talons at thine.
Watch for the Lion's claw, Richard, which tears not flesh but honour, and gives more pain than any knife.

Pain! He is King of Pain! Mend that, then face sorrow and shame.' Ending with a snap, he grinned more knowledge out of his red eyes than he pronounced with his mouth.