“Thou dost miss my meaning, though thy point is prime. We seldom think to thank the Giver for the power to enjoy as well as for the enjoyable. I knew a French prince, once, who said he’d give his birthright for one good dinner, and he was no Esau, either. He had dinners and dinners, but what were they along with premature decay gnawing at his vitals like a rat, while he himself could eat less than a babe?”
“I see; the knight would have us thankfully commemorate to-day’s enjoyment of nature.”
“Just so; I think, in loving nature, because we begin to understand her, we will be on our way to all the natural joy of which she is God’s interpreter.”
“But our feast?”
“The stars are out on the blue; their queen will soon come up from the sea, then I’ll induct thee into the feast of the ‘Rose.’ The rose is the queen of flowers, and flowers the thoughts of God!”
“The feast of the Rose! I’ve heard it was a licencious, heathen orgy!”
“It was then a shameful misnomer. My Mary found it; transformed it. Out of it, through reverence of her, comes a beautiful observance. See here, Jew.”
So saying, the knight took from his bosom a string of precious stones and arranged them, as they glowed under the moonlight, on the ground heart-shaped.
The knight then questioningly observed the Jew.