The entire absence of jealousy in the husbands of that period is by no means the least remarkable feature of the times. They seem to have been proud of the protestations of love offered to their wives, and liberally rewarded the favored troubadour with jewels and gold. Agnes, countess of Foix, was beloved by a French minstrel, who became jealous of her. She sent her own confessor to him to complain of the injustice of his suspicions, and to swear that she was still faithful to him. She required him to write and publish the history of their loves in verse. Yet this princess was considered virtuous, both by her husband and the world. One of the troubadours beseeches a priest to grant him dispensation from vows of love to a lady whom he loved no longer; but he does not seem to have considered absolution necessary during the continuance of his attachment, although the object of it was the wife of another. Those who know human nature will probably think it requires a good deal of faith to believe that immaculate purity was universal. The curious mixture of religion with love is another singular characteristic of the middle ages. The knight wrote poems in honor of the virgin Mary, which cannot easily be distinguished from those addressed to the lady of his affections. The troubadours burned tapers, and caused masses to be said for the success of their love; and one of them assures us that he devoutly crossed himself with joy and gratitude, every time he beheld his mistress. Peyre de Ruer devoted himself to a noble Italian lady, who was extremely fond of magnificent entertainments; and in order to find favor in her eyes he exhausted all his resources in banquets and _joustes_ in her honor. The lady, however, could not be persuaded to exercise her sovereign attribute of mercy; and Ruer wandered about the country in the disguise of a pilgrim. He arrived at a certain church during the holy week, and asked permission to preach to the audience. This being granted, he gracefully and earnestly recited one of his own love-songs; for, says the chronicle, “he knew nothing better.” The congregation, supposing it to be a pious invocation to the virgin Mary, or the saints, were much affected; and when he held out his hat for the customary alms, it was heaped with silver. The minstrel cast aside his pilgrim weeds and in a splendid dress presented himself before his lady-love, with a new song in her praise; and she, overcome with such a proof of constancy, bestowed many caresses on the wandering troubadour.