The chevalier had inherited his father's warlike qualities, and was, it seems, always ready with his sword. He was at the Eaux Bonnes when he received an affront from a stranger, which—as Sir Lucius O'Trigger has it,—"his honour could not brook." Unluckily, he had not his sword with him, and the affair must be decided at once; he therefore sent his servant to Accous to fetch it, recommending him great promptitude and address in inventing some story to prevent his father from guessing his errand. The servant used his utmost despatch, and thought he had managed very cleverly to avert suspicion: the old knight, however, was too clear-sighted in such matters; and, having divined the state of the case, mounted his mule instantly, and secretly followed the messenger. He traversed the mountains of Escot and Benou, and, braving all their difficulties, arrived at the Eaux Bonnes. On asking for his son, he was informed that he was closeted with a stranger: he repaired thither, and, pausing at the door, heard the clashing of swords. Satisfied that all was as he surmised, the imperturbable old knight remained quietly at his post, awaiting the issue of the combat. At length the noise of arms ceased; young Despourrins came out precipitately, and found his father on the watch, who, embracing him tenderly, exclaimed—"Your servant's hasty departure prevented my setting out with him; but I followed closely, guessing that you had an affair of honour on your hands; and, in case you should fall, I brought my sword with me, which has never yet failed at need." "I am your son," replied the Chevalier; "my adversary is grievously wounded; let us hasten to afford him assistance."
After Despourrins, the son, was established near St. Savin, and the estates of the Vallée d'Aspe were abandoned by his father for his new domain, he seems to have given himself up to the charms of poetry and music, living the life of a shepherd, and familiarizing himself with the habits, customs, manners and pleasures of that simple race, until he spoke with their words, and thought with their thoughts. Whoever has visited the beautiful Valley of Argelez, and wandered amongst the wilds in the neighbourhood of the once famous abbey of St. Savin, can well understand the poet's delight in such a retreat, and will not wonder when he is told that Despourrins often passed whole nights in the woods, singing his verses, like one transformed to a nightingale. Even now the songs he sung are remembered and cherished; and though the pastous of his native mountains probably know nothing of the poet, his lays are constantly on their tongues. One of the most famous is a romance, called "La Haüt sus las Mountagnes," which I give entire, with a translation in prose and verse, in order to show the nature of this Troubadour language, which differs from the Gascon dialect, in being softer and less guttural; in fact, resembling rather more the Italian than Spanish language:—
La haüt sus las Mountagnes, û Pastou malhurous
Ségut aü pè d'û Haû, négat de plous,
Sounyabe aü cambiamen de sas amous.
"Cô leüyé, cô boulatye!" disé l'infourtunat,
"La tendresse et l'amou qui t'ey pourtat
Soun aco lous rébuts qu'ey méritat?
"Despuch que tu fréquentes la yen de counditiou
Qu'as près û tà haüt bôl, que ma maysou,
N'ey prou haüte entà tu d'û cabirou.
"Tas oüilles d'ab las mies, nous dégnen plus meacla;
Touns superbes moutous, despuch ença,
Nou s'approchen deüs més, qu'entaüs tuma
"De richesses me passi, d'aünous, de qualitat:
You nou soy qu'û Pastou; més noùn n'y a nad
Que noüs surpassi touts, en amistat,
"Encouère que ay praübé, dens moun pétit estat,
Qu'aïmi mey moun Berret tout espélat,
Qué nou pas lou plus bèt Chapeü bourdat.
"Las richesses deü moundé nou bèn queda turmen;
Et lou plus bèt Seignou, dab soun aryen,
Nou baü pas lou Pastou qui biü counten.
"Adiü, cô de tygresse, Pastoure chens amou,
Cambia, bé pots carabia de serbidou:
Yamey noun troubéras û tau coum you!"