The Baron Guy, worn out, impoverished, and childless, was essentially one of those sensitive spirits, bruised by contact with men and events, which, having lost all elasticity where their own interests are concerned, direct their entire energy and their need of something to which to attach themselves, towards an object apparently distant or fragile. The baron had certainly an affection for his nephew; but as far as he alone was concerned, he would, have contented himself with leaving him to hunt peacefully on his domains, and helping him at need; but for his niece and her two children--handsome boys of five and eight years old respectively--he had a love amounting to adoration, and which formed the chief interest of his life. To him it seemed that for beings so dear in his eyes the castle de la Roche-Pont and its domain were a very pitiful heritage; and we may question whether even the duchy of Burgundy would have appeared to him worthy of their acceptance. Ambitions of this _indirect_ character, as they may be called, are the most insatiable and tenacious; they are of the kind stimulating to the most daring enterprises, because they are disinterested and irresponsible. When the Baron Guy spoke of the fortresses built by the Franks in Palestine and Syria, he never failed to enumerate their towers, to describe their lofty walls, their fair and strong defences; and, invariably instituting a comparison between the wonderful fortresses of Margat, Krak, Antarseus, Laodicea, Antioch, Ascalon, Giblet, and many others, and the castle de la Roche-Pont, he exhibited the latter as a mere hovel fit only for serfs to hide their heads in. When the baron's discourse took this turn--and it frequently did--Anseric's face clouded over. Eleanor looked down, blushed, and went to look for the children.