“Throw me a clod of turf, my desire,
Give me a blow on the ear for a greeting!”
The arm put the boughs aside, and a face appeared, wreathed by the cypress sprays, a woman’s face, white, mischievous, and alluring. Her black hair was bound up in a golden net. She showed her teeth at Gaillard, and put out the tip of a red tongue.
“Can I throw straight, dear lord?”
He turned his horse, glanced at the window in the tower, and then laughed back at her, opening his mouth wide like the beak of a hungry bird.
“Better at a man’s heart, than at his head, dear lady.”
“A Gascon has more head than heart, my friend.”
“And a long sword, and a longer tongue!”
She tilted her chin, two black eyes laughing above a short, impudent nose, and a hard, red mouth.
“Go and have your gossip with good Peter. Barnabo has beaten him twice at chess, and he was ready to throw the board at me. The leopards are better tempered.”