"Nothing strange in that, glorious King! Are not those accursed fellows wolves? Have not bears and wolves the same dens? Come Mont-Dore, up my lad, show your skill to our holy bishop, who is present, and to the illustrious King Chram; also to the very renowned count and the noble audience. Take this cane--it shall be your mount; get on horseback and gallop around this table as gracefully as you can, and with the gentlest airs that you can put on. Come, Mont-Dore, to horse, the courser will not run away with you. Make room, there, make room, there, noble seigneurs--above all, do not approach the animal too closely. Come, Mont-Dore, start galloping, my daring knight!" The lover of the beautiful bishopess straddled the cane which he held between his two fore paws, and led by the chain which Karadeucq held he commenced to prance with grotesque clumsiness around the hall amid the loud laughter of the assembled leudes. As he led him, the Vagre said to himself: "I came dangerously near betraying myself when I heard the Frankish King speak of the bravery of the Breton race; my heart beat with pride fit to crack my ribs; then, besides, I thought of good old grandfather Araim, who used to call me his pet! I thought of my father Jocelyn, of my mother Madalen--both no doubt dead in the country that I ran away from more than forty years ago, and where my brother Kervan and my dear sweet sister Roselyk still live. At these thoughts tears came to my eyes despite myself. Oh, my sons! Ronan! Loysik! here I am near to you, but shall I manage your delivery! Hesus! Hesus! inspire me." The Master of the Hounds pranced all along astride of the cane, encouraged in his antics by the laughter that it provoked in the Franks. Remembering the success that had crowned his efforts during the nights of the calends of January, he indulged in gambols that delighted the blockish leudes and that carried their hilarity to the pitch of hysterics. Above all the count held his sides and laughed and laughed, fit to burst his dalmatica of silver cloth. Suddenly he checked his laughter and said to Chram: "King, would you see still better sport?" "Yes, count, what have you to propose? Your face is red to suffocation. You breathe like an ox. What new thought has just sprouted in your head?" "It is this: I have a plan--we have in the burg enormous and ferocious mastiffs that we use to hunt wolves and wild boars with. We shall chain the bear to one of the beams of the hall." "And let loose some of your mastiffs against him? The idea is delicious." "Yes, Chram; I want to offer you a royal treat." "Long live Count Neroweg! Come, fetch the dogs! The more ferocious they are and sharp their teeth, all the more amusing will be the sight." "Yes, yes," cried the Franks with shouts of joy; "the dogs--the dogs--a combat between the bear and the dogs."