[Original Size] -- [Medium-Size]
Before he well recovered his surprise, the lovelier of his two companions said:
“I now, sir knight, do hold you in my power; perchance this time you'll not refuse to do the service which with tears I begged of you some so short days agone.”
“Lady,” Sir Jaufry wondering replied, “methinks I ne'er set eyes on you before.”
“I am that weeping dame who did entreat you to defend her rights 'gainst Felon d'Albaru, a wicked wretch, whom God confound! This monster, who doth not deserve the name of knight, since he doth naught but plan most villain acts and set vile snares, bears on his shoulders more the head of horse or bull than that of living man. His eyes are large as eggs; his features horrible; his lips are thick and black; his fangs project from out his mouth, which is itself huge as a leopard's jaw; and against nature are his frightful shape, distended body, and misshapen legs.
“'Tis not to fright you, good my lord, I draw this portrait of my foe,—your heart ne'er harboured fear: but true it is, he doth all men alarm; so that his aspect, at a distance seen, doth scare away all such as would defend my cause. As yet in fight invincible, he hath despoiled my lands and all the country round; I but my castle now have left to me, and that tomorrow must be given up, if God and you oppose not such decree. But I would rather suffer torture, death, than fall into his power.”
“Is all this true?” asked Jaufry.