for she paid scant attention to him, listening just enough to escape the charge of rudeness. And Flammecœur was man enough and vain enough to get himself into something of a pique about her in this first hour of his coming to Le Crépuscule. When the stranger had had his say, and proved himself sufficiently “trouvère,” the general after-feast of song and story began. Both tale and song were of that day,—broad enough for modern ears, but of their time unusually mild, and of the character that was to be heard from ladies’ lips. Burliest henchman and slenderest squire alike tuned his verse for the ears of Madame Eleanore to hear; and the wanderer, Flammecœur, noted this fact astutely, and so much approved of it that, while dwarf David’s fairy tale went on, he took a quick resolve that he would make a temporary home for himself in this Castle. In the course of time Flammecœur was asked for a song. Yvain brought his lute to him, and he tuned the instrument while he pleaded excuse from a long chanson. When he began, however, his voice showed small sign of fatigue. He sang a low, swinging melody of his own composing, fitted to words once used in a Court of Love in the south,—a delicate bit of versification dealing with dreams. And so delicately did he perform his task that perfect silence followed its close. A moment later there was a sharp round of applause; for these Bretons had never heard such a chansonette in all their cold-country lives. Before anything more could be demanded, Flammecœur, satisfied with the impression already made, sprang to his feet, and turned to Eleanore, saying: “Lady, I crave permission for me and my squire to seek our rest. We have ridden many leagues to-day, and at early dawn must be up and off again.” Eleanore rose and gave him her hand to kiss. “Sieur Flammecœur, we render thee thanks for our pleasure, and give ye God’s sleep. Hither, Foulque! Light the Sieur Trouvère and his boy to thy room, and sleep thou this night with Robert Meloc.” The young squire bowed and fetched a torch from the wall. Yvain came running to his master’s side; and presently, to the deep regret of all the demoiselles, the three disappeared into the “long room,” from which a hallway led to the squires’ rooms.