For behold he was now speeding on a crazy errand to the ends of the earth.
There had been strange councils in the bare little chamber of the Most Christian King.

Those locusts of the dawn whom men called Tartars, the evil seed of the Three Kings who had once travelled to Bethlehem, had, it seemed, been vouchsafed a glimpse of grace.

True, they had plundered and eaten the faithful and shed innocent blood in oceans, but they hated the children of Mahound worse than the children of Christ.

On the eve of Christmas-tide four envoys had come from their Khakan, monstrous men with big heads that sprang straight from the shoulder, and arms that hung below the knee, and short thin legs like gnomes.

For forty weeks they had been on the road, and they brought gifts such as no eye had seen before--silks like gossamer woven with wild alphabets, sheeny jars of jade, and pearls like moons.