The young knight perceived, the while he was moving from group to group receiving introductions, that the council of powdered jackdaws had been adjourned. Its members were spread out over the hall, singling out men, one after another, and engaging them in a momentary conversation. He was curious to know why, after each of these brief exchanges, he at once became the object of these men's scrutinizing glances. But, though he recalled the incident later, it was temporarily lost and forgotten amid the banalities of polite talk to which he was obliged to lend constant ear. Sir Richard entered wholly into the holiday spirit pervading the company, however, and served out honeyed words with a zest quite equal in degree with that which he drank them in. He found the change from his ardorous and lonely journey to this atmosphere of good cheer and loud merriment to be most agreeable. His message had been delivered, his work was now done, and he felt altogether care-free and happy. Before the hour set for the feast in the great hall, he was singled out by a page and conducted to a room, which he was told was to be his during his stay in Castle Yewe. It was ample in size and magnificently furnished. Its walls and ceiling were trimmed in deep oaken paneling. Over the fireplace, which occupied quite two-thirds of the west side of the chamber, the woodwork was fretted and scrolled from mantel-shelf to ceiling. Upon the massive oak bed were neatly arranged a suit of slashed silk and velvet, a fine lace and linen upper garment, and boots of soft leather to match. There was also an elegantly fashioned rapier to take the place of the service-blade that he habitually carried at his side. His saddle-bags were flung across a holder fashioned for the purpose of bearing these inseparable companions of the traveler. Sir Richard sat down upon the edge of the bed, and before starting to change his dress, took out the cutting of saffron velvet from the breast of his doublet. He held it at arm's length, regarding it for quite a space with an expression of deep melancholy. He thought again of the beautiful Lady Anna's parting, whispered words--"I shall esteem each one of them a ... jewel, Richard." They had recurred to him many times, and in each instance his heart had undeniably responded in a tenderly sentimental way. It occurred to his imaginative fancy that the bit of cloth had eyes, and that they were looking at him with sad, reproachful glances. He felt less guilty after he had taken up his sword and solemnly renewed his vow. He made up his mind that never again would he be untrue to the cutting of velvet and the maid by whom it had been relinquished into his keeping, but whom he had not yet seen.