Their gloomy apprehensions spread themselves to the warders without, who paced about in downcast and silent contemplation, or, resting on their halberds, stood motionless on their post, rather like armed trophies than living warriors.
"So thou hast no better news to bring me from without, Sir Thomas!" said the King, after a long and perturbed silence, spent in the feverish agitation which we have endeavoured to describe.

"All our knights turned women, and our ladies become devotees, and neither a spark of valour nor of gallantry to enlighten a camp which contains the choicest of Europe's chivalry--ha!" "The truce, my lord," said De Vaux, with the same patience with which he had twenty times repeated the explanation--"the truce prevents us bearing ourselves as men of action; and for the ladies, I am no great reveller, as is well known to your Majesty, and seldom exchange steel and buff for velvet and gold--but thus far I know, that our choicest beauties are waiting upon the Queen's Majesty and the Princess, to a pilgrimage to the convent of Engaddi, to accomplish their vows for your Highness's deliverance from this trouble." "And is it thus," said Richard, with the impatience of indisposition, "that royal matrons and maidens should risk themselves, where the dogs who defile the land have as little truth to man as they have faith towards God ?" "Nay, my lord," said De Vaux, "they have Saladin's word for their safety." "True, true!" replied Richard; "and I did the heathen Soldan injustice--I owe him reparation for it.

Would God I were but fit to offer it him upon my body between the two hosts--Christendom and heathenesse both looking on!" As Richard spoke, he thrust his right arm out of bed naked to the shoulder, and painfully raising himself in his couch, shook his clenched hand, as if it grasped sword or battle-axe, and was then brandished over the jewelled turban of the Soldan.

It was not without a gentle degree of violence, which the King would scarce have endured from another, that De Vaux, in his character of sick-nurse, compelled his royal master to replace himself in the couch, and covered his sinewy arm, neck, and shoulders with the care which a mother bestows upon an impatient child.
"Thou art a rough nurse, though a willing one, De Vaux," said the King, laughing with a bitter expression, while he submitted to the strength which he was unable to resist; "methinks a coif would become thy lowering features as well as a child's biggin would beseem mine.

We should be a babe and nurse to frighten girls with." "We have frightened men in our time, my liege," said De Vaux; "and, I trust, may live to frighten them again.