“One must be near a man to see the colour of his soul.”
“Aye, so!—The knight I serve—him with the grey in his beard—is of Richard’s household.”
“I have sung in this court and sung in that,” said Elias of Montaudon, “but chances it so that never I saw Duke Richard!”
“He paints leopards on his shield—they call him Lion-Heart—he is good at loving, good at hating—he means to do well and highly—but the passions of men are legion.”
“I stake all,” said the jongleur, “on his being a nobler knight than is Count Jaufre!”
“My gold with yours, brother,” answered the squire, and poured more wine.
“And he is at Excideuil?”
“At Excideuil. He builds a great castle there, but his heart builds at going overseas and saving again the Holy Sepulchre!”
There was a silence. “He can then,” said Elias of Montaudon, “be sought through the imagination.”
“I know not wholly what you mean by that,” said the squire. “But when he was made knight and watched his armour, he watched, with other matters, some sort of generosity.”