"In the city of Gilderoy," he said, speaking very volubly and with many gestures, "there lives a lady of surpassing comeliness. Her eyes are as the sky, her cheeks as June roses, her hair a web of gold. She is a right fair lady, and daily she sits at her broad casement, singing, and plaiting her hair into shackles of gold. She has bound the Lord Flavian of Gambrevault in a net starred with poppies, scarlet poppies of the field, so that he ever dreams dreams of scarlet, and sees visions of lips warm as wine. Daily the Lord Flavian scours the country between Avalon and the fair city of Gilderoy, till the very dust complains of his fury, and the green grass curses his horse's heels. But the lady with the hair of gold compasses him like the sunset; she has stolen the eyes of heaven, and the stars are blind."
Fulviac smiled over the extreme subtlety of the rendering. It was a delicate matter, delicately handled. The Carlyath lad had wit, and a most seraphic tongue.
"What more?"
"There is yet another lady at Avalon."
"Well?"
"A lady whose name is Duessa, a lady with black hair and a blacker temper. Lord Flavian has a huge horror of her tongue. Therefore he rides like a thief, without trumpets, to Gilderoy."
"Yet more."
The lad spread his hands with an inimitable gesture, shrugged, and heaved a most Christian sigh.
"The Lady Duessa is the Lord Flavian's wife," he said.
"Surely."