them that Gaston also must
die. But they prayed for his life, because they loved him dearly, and he
was the heir of all the Count's lands. So the Count decided to keep
Gaston in prison for some months, and then send him to travel for two or
three years. The Pope sent a cardinal to the Count, bidding him spare
Gaston, but, before the Cardinal reached Orthez, Gaston was dead.

One day the servant who took meat and drink into the boy's dark dungeon
saw that he had not tasted food for many days. All the dishes lay full
of mouldering meat in a row along the wall. Then the servant ran and
warned the Count that Gaston was starving himself to death. The Count
was trimming his nails with a little knife, and he sped in great anger
to the dungeon.

'Traitor, why dost thou not eat?' he cried, dealt the boy a cuff, and
rushed out again, and so went to his chamber.

But the point of the little knife, which was in his hand, had cut a vein
in Gaston's neck, and, being weak with hunger and grief, Gaston died,
for the vein could not be staunched. Then the Count made great lament,
and had his head shaven, and wore mourning for many days.

Thus it chanced that the Count of Foix lived without an heir, turning
night into day, praying much, and listening to minstrels, giving alms,
and hearkening to strange messages of death and war that were borne to
him how no man knew. And his brother, Pierre, was a good knight and wise
by day, yet at night madness fell on him, and he raved, beating the air
with a naked sword. And this had been his manner ever since he fought
with and slew a huge bear on the hills. Now when his wife saw that bear
brought home dead she fainted, and in three days she fled with her
children, and came back no more. For her father had once pursued that
bear, which cried to him: 'Thou huntest me who wish thee no harm, but
thou shalt die an ill death.' He then left off pursuing the bear; but
the Count's brother slew the beast on another day, and thereafter he
went mad in the night, though by day he was wise enough.

These tales were told to Master Froissart by the old squire at Orthez.

_ROLF STAKE_[33]

There was once a king in Denmark named Rolf Stake; right famous is he
among the kings of yore, foremost for liberality, daring, and courtesy.
Of his courtesy one proof celebrated in story is this.

A poor little boy named Vogg came into King Rolf's hall: the King was
then young and slender of build. Vogg went near