But again she fell into the reverie, and her eyes seemed fixed on something beyond the summer clouds.
"Philip," she said at last.
"Jeanne," I whispered.
"That is all,—that is what I wished," she sighed,—"Philip and Jeanne."
She held her hand toward me and I touched it with my lips.
"Win me," she said, but this time it was the body and soul which spoke in unison.
After a while she began again: "Let us speak of falconry."
"Begin," I replied; "we have caught the falcon."
Then Jeanne d'Ys took my hand in both of hers and told me how with infinite patience the young falcon was taught to perch upon the wrist, how little by little it became used to the belled jesses and the chaperon à cornette.
"They must first have a good appetite," she said; "then little by little I reduce their nourishment; which in falconry we call pât. When, after many nights passed au bloc as these birds are now, I prevail upon the hagard to stay quietly on the wrist, then the bird is ready to be taught to come for its food. I fix the pât to the end of a thong, or leurre, and teach the bird to come to me as soon as I begin to whirl the cord in circles about my head. At first I drop the pât when the falcon comes, and he eats the food on the ground. After a little he will learn to seize the leurre in motion as I whirl it around my head or drag it over the ground. After this it is easy to teach the falcon to strike at game, always remembering to 'faire courtoisie á l'oiseau', that is, to allow the bird to taste the quarry."