I know not how it rose; but now it comes
Like fearful truth, and we were sad, thus left
Hopeless of aid or counsel—till we saw——
Rai. (hastily.) You have my brother here?
Urb. (with embarrassment.) We have; but he——
Rai. But he—but he!—Aymer de Chatillon!
The fiery knight—the very soul o’ the field—
Rushing on danger with the joyous step
Of a hunter o’er the hills!—is that a tone
Wherewith to speak of him? I heard a tale—