Foulques (excitedly)—"Languedoc, where the execrable communes of the people still stand unshaken!"
Mylio (proudly)—"I accuse myself for having left that noble and brave province, and for coming to these debased regions to charm with licentious songs the ears of this nobility that is the foe of my race! That is my real crime."
The proud words of Mylio arouse the indignation of the seigneurs. Fearing lest, in his capacity of the trouvere's companion, he may also become the victim of the seigneurs' rage, Goose-Skin profits by the tumult to slide unperceived towards the tunnel of verdure that serves as the Prison of Love. The angered voice of the Seigneur of Bercy rises above the din. Threatening Mylio with his fists, he cries:
"Wretch! To dare insult the knighthood and our holy Church, and that at this place! I shall order my men to seize you, and they will use their straps upon your shins! Miserable slave! Abominable scamp!"
Mylio (calm and dignified)—"Foulques of Bercy, your men are superfluous. Fetch a sword. Mine lies in the pavilion of verdure. By God! If you are a man this Court of Love will be transformed into an enclosed field and these fair ladies into the judges of the combat!"
Foulques (furious)—"Vile serf, I shall punish your insolence with my cane! Down on your knees, villain!"
Mylio (mockingly)—"By heaven! If your charming wife Emmeline heard you make such threats she would say to you: 'Dear friend, do not insult in that manner Mylio—he is a better man than you; he may hurt you!'"
At the cutting repartee, Foulques bounds from his seat. One of the noblemen in the audience draws his sword, and passing it over to the Seigneur of Bercy, says: "Avenge the affront, kill the villein as you would a dog!" Mylio, unarmed, crosses his arms over his breast and defies his adversary. But Goose-Skin, who, yielding to a first impulse of poltroonery had fled to the Prison of Love where Mylio's sword lay, hears the threats of Foulques, and realizing the danger the trouvere runs, takes the sword, returns in haste, and the very moment when the Seigneur of Bercy rushes sword in hand upon Mylio, the latter hears behind him the panting voice of the juggler, saying: "Here is your sword; defend yourself; defend both of us; if you do not I shall be cut into shreds by virtue of our friendship. Oxhorns! Why did we run into this hornets' nest!"
Mylio (takes his sword and puts himself in a position of defence)—"Thanks, my old Goose-Skin! I shall work for us both! Just watch!"
All in a tremble the juggler shelters himself behind Mylio. Foulques of Bercy, on his part, surprised at seeing the trouvere suddenly armed, remains for a moment in perplexity. A knight is free to kill a defenceless villein, but to cross steel with one is to disgrace himself.