'To horse, to horse, Gaston!' The court rang with his voice; to the clamour he made, which might betoken murder, arson, pillage, or the sin against the Holy Ghost, out came the vassals in a swarm.

'To horse, to horse, Bearnais! Where out of hell is Gaston of Bearn ?' The devil of Anjou was loose in Autafort that day.
Gaston came delicately last, drawing his beard through his fist, to see Bertran de Born lie helpless in a lemon-bush hard by the wall.

Richard, quite beyond himself, exploded with his story, and so was sobered.

While Gaston made his comments, he, instead of listening, made comments of his own.
'Dear Lord Richard,' said Gaston reasonably, 'if you do not know Bertran by this time it is a strange thing and a pitiful thing.

For it shows you without any wit.