“Eyes, lord—her eyes so darkly bright and, as I do think—black!”
“Nay, blue, Pertinax—blue as heaven!”
“Black, messire, black as—as black!”
“Blue, boy, blue!”
“Lord, they are black!”
“Speak'st thou of Yolande?”
“Messire, of one I speak, but whom, I know not. She came to me i' the greenwood as I sat a-fishing. Her hair long and black—ay, black and curled, her eyes dark, and for beauty ne'er saw I her like.”
“And yet hast seen my Lady Yolande oft!”
“Her voice, messire, her voice soft and sweet as the murmur of waters, and very full of allure.”
“Why, how now!” cried Jocelyn. “Art thou—thou, my Pertinax, become at last one of Cupid's humble following? All joy to thee, my lovely lover—here in truth is added bond betwixt us! For since thou dost love a maid, even as I do love a maid, so being lovers twain needs must we love each other the better therefore.”