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I
knew
the
windlestraw
,
Guy
de
Villehardouin
,
a
raw
young
provincial
,
come
up
the
first
time
to
Court
,
but
a
fiery
little
cockerel
for
all
of
that
.
He
was
red-haired
.
His
blue
eyes
,
small
and
pinched
close
to
ether
,
were
likewise
red
,
at
least
in
the
whites
of
them
;
and
his
skin
,
of
the
sort
that
goes
with
such
types
,
was
red
and
freckled
.
He
had
quite
a
parboiled
appearance
.
As
I
passed
him
by
a
sudden
movement
he
jostled
me
.
Oh
,
of
course
,
the
thing
was
deliberate
.
And
he
flamed
at
me
while
his
hand
dropped
to
his
rapier
.
"
Faith
,
"
thought
I
,
"
the
gray
old
man
has
many
and
strange
tools
,
"
while
to
the
cockerel
I
bowed
and
murmured
,
"
Your
pardon
for
my
clumsiness
.
The
fault
was
mine
.
Your
pardon
,
Villehardouin
.
"
But
he
was
not
to
be
appeased
thus
easily
.
And
while
he
fumed
and
strutted
I
glimpsed
Robert
Lanfranc
,
beckoned
him
to
us
,
and
explained
the
happening
.
"
Sainte-Maure
has
accorded
you
satisfaction
,
"
was
his
judgment
.
"
He
has
prayed
your
pardon
.
"
"
In
truth
,
yes
,
"
I
interrupted
in
my
suavest
tones
.
"
And
I
pray
your
pardon
again
,
Villehardouin
,
for
my
very
great
clumsiness
.
I
pray
your
pardon
a
thousand
times
.
The
fault
was
mine
,
though
unintentioned
.
In
my
haste
to
an
engagement
I
was
clumsy
,
most
woful
clumsy
,
but
without
intention
.
"
What
could
the
dolt
do
but
grudgingly
accept
the
amends
I
so
freely
proffered
him
?
Yet
I
knew
,
as
Lanfranc
and
I
hastened
on
,
that
ere
many
days
,
or
hours
,
the
flame-headed
youth
would
see
to
it
that
we
measured
steel
together
on
the
grass
.
I
explained
no
more
to
Lanfranc
than
my
need
of
him
,
and
he
was
little
interested
to
pry
deeper
into
the
matter
.
He
was
himself
a
lively
youngster
of
no
more
than
twenty
,
but
he
had
been
trained
to
arms
,
had
fought
in
Spain
,
and
had
an
honourable
record
on
the
grass
.
Merely
his
black
eyes
flashed
when
he
learned
what
was
toward
,
and
such
was
his
eagerness
that
it
was
he
who
gathered
Henry
Bohemond
in
to
our
number
.
When
the
three
of
us
arrived
in
the
open
space
beyond
the
fish-pond
Fortini
and
two
friends
were
already
waiting
us
.
One
was
Felix
Pasquini
,
nephew
to
the
Cardinal
of
that
name
,
and
as
close
in
his
uncle
's
confidence
as
was
his
uncle
close
in
the
confidence
of
the
gray
old
man
.
The
other
was
Raoul
de
Goncourt
,
whose
presence
surprised
me
,
he
being
too
good
and
noble
a
man
for
the
company
he
kept
.
