entrar:
Qui gen non sab razonar,

Defors li ven a estar.
E las claus son de prejar:
Ab cel obron li cortes--

and so on through many verses, made continuous by the fact that the end
of each sixth line forms the rhyme of the next five. Now, Gilles knew
nothing of Southern minstrelsy, and if he had, the pitch he was screwed
to would have shrilled such knowledge out of him. At '_Defors li ven a
estar_,' he came in, and sturdily forward. Richard saw him and put up
his hand: on went the hammered rhymes--

E las claus son de prejar:
Ab cel obron li cortes.

Here was a little break. Gilles, very dark, took a step; up shot
Richard's warning hand--

Dedinz la clauson qu'i es
Son las mazos dels borges . . .

On went the exulting voice after the new rhymes, gayer and yet more gay.
_Li Chastel d'Amors_ has twelve linked verses, and King Richard, wound
up in their music, sang them all. When at last he had stopped, he said,
'Now, Gurdun, what do you want here?'

Gilles came a step or two of his way, and so again a step or two, and so
again, by jerks. When he was so near that it was to be seen what he had
in his right hand, the King got up. Gilles saw that he had light fetters
on his ankles which could not stop his walking. Richard folded his arms.

'Oh, Gurdun,' he said, 'what a fool you are.'

Gurdun vented a sob of rage, and flung himself forward at his enemy. He
was a shorter man, but very thickset, with arms like steel. He had a
knife, rage like a thirst, he was free. Richard, as he came on, hit him
full on the chin, and sent him flying. Gurdun picked himself up again,
his mouth twitching, his eyes so small as to be like slits. Knife in
hand he leaned against the wall to fetch up his breath.

'Well,' said Richard, 'Have you had enough?'

'Yes, you wolf,' said Gurdun, 'I shall wait till it is dark.'

'I think it may suit you better,' was the King's comment as he sat down
on the bed. Gurdun squatted by the wall, watching him. After about an
hour of humming airs to himself Richard lay full length, and in a short
time Gilles ascertained that he was asleep. This brought tears into the
man's eyes; he began to cry freely. Virgin Mary! Virgin Mary! why could
he not kill this frozen devil of a king? Was there a race in the world
which bred such men, to sleep with the knife at the throat? He rose to
his feet, went to look at the sleeper; but he knew he could not do his
work. He rang