"Come, tell me what they were!" responded the Princess, coaxingly. "Thou lovest my Lady thy grandmother, that can I see."
"Well, I did, middling, Dame," said Roger, coolly. "Howbeit she were only a woman."
The squire was ready to sink into the earth, till he was relieved by the Princess leaning back in her gilded chair with a burst of the heartiest laughter.
"Gramercy, little Cousin, but thou art right covenable![#] I see, we shall be good friends. But I desire thy two sayings. Tell me the same."
[#] Agreeable, amusing.
Roger repeated them rather proudly.
"'Fais ce que doy, advienne que pourra:' 'Un and Dieu, un Roy, servir je doy.'"
"And dost mean to rule thee by them?" asked the Princess, still smiling.
"That do I, Dame. I will serve God and the King to my power, but none other."
"He will do, trow?" said the Princess, looking up at somebody whom Roger had not previously noticed. His eyes followed hers, and he saw standing on her right hand a young man of eighteen, clad in a tunic of black baldekyn, figured with red balls and purplish-gray flowers. Above it was a white tippet; the sleeves were red, with gold cuffs; and he wore yellow shoes with a red pattern.[#] He was of short stature and slight figure: his complexion was of feminine fairness, his hair flaxen tinged with gold, his eyes blue and dove-like. So great was his soft and pathetic beauty, that artists selected his face as the model for "that Face which now outshines the cherubim."