surely have modified his judgment upon the troubadour if he had
remembered that scene as related by the biography. Sir Bertran was
summoned with all his people to King Henry's tent, who received him very
harshly and said, "Bertran, you declared that you never needed more than
half your senses; it seems that to-day you will want the whole of them."
"Sire", said Bertran, "it is true that I said so and I said nothing but
the truth." The king replied, "Then you seem to me to have lost your
senses entirely". "I have indeed lost them", said Bertran. "And how?" [64]
asked the king. "Sire, on the day that the noble king, your son, died, I
lost sense, knowledge and understanding." When the king heard Bertran
speak of his son with tears, he was deeply moved and overcome with
grief. On recovering himself he cried, weeping, "Ah, Bertran, rightly
did you lose your senses for my son, for there was no one in the world
whom he loved as you. And for love of him, not only do I give you your
life, but also your castle and your goods, and I add with my love five
hundred silver marks to repair the loss which you have suffered."

The narrative is unhistorical; Henry II. was not present in person at
the siege of Hautefort; but the fact is certain that he regarded Bertran
as the chief sower of discord in his family.

Mention must now be made of certain troubadours who were less important
than the three last mentioned, but are of interest for various reasons.

Raimbaut d'Aurenga, Count of Orange from 1150-1173, is interesting
rather by reason of his relations with other troubadours than for his
own achievements in the troubadours' art. He was a follower of the
precious, artificial and obscure style, and prided himself upon his
skill in the combination of difficult rimes and the repetition of
equivocal rimes (the same word used in different senses or grammatical
forms). "Since Adam ate the apple," he says, "there is no poet, loud as [65]
he may proclaim himself, whose art is worth a turnip compared with
mine." Apart from these mountebank tricks and certain mild "conceits"
(his lady's smile, for instance, makes him happier than the smile of
four hundred angels could do), the chief characteristic of his poetry is
his constant complaints of slanderers who attempt to undermine his
credit with his lady. But he seems to have aroused a passion in the
heart of a poetess, who expressed her feelings in words which contrast
strongly with Raimbaut's