The gifts with which the Troubadour’s song was rewarded varied in nature and value according to the wealth and liberality of the donor. Horses gaily caparisoned, rich vestments, and money are not unfrequently mentioned. The Monk of Montaudon rails at a brother poet for having accepted _manh vielh vestimen_ (many an old coat) previously worn to rags, we may suppose, by its economical owner. But other nobles showed a more generous appreciation of poetry, and in one case at least we hear of a liberal host who, enraptured by his poet-guest’s song, presents him with his own palfrey and dress. This instance at the same time illustrates the spontaneous nature of most of these gifts. The troubadour was not like an English poet laureate or the bard of a Welsh prince, receiving a yearly salary in money or kind, and bound for certain emoluments to accomplish a certain amount of verse. An engagement of this kind was as unsuitable to his disposition as it would have been inconsistent with the terms of equality on which he lived with his protector. The perfect ease of intercourse existing between poets and princes of the highest rank is indeed astonishing. Bertran de Born, a petty baron, called the sons of Henry II. of England by familiar nicknames, and Raimon de Miraval, a poor knight of Carcassonne, used the same liberty with the mighty Count Raimon VI. of Toulouse, with whom he was united by the bonds of tenderest mutual friendship. Even the powerful Raimon de Rossilho, proud by nature and further excited by jealous suspicion, has to treat a servant of his own household with the utmost consideration, merely because this retainer happens to be Guillem de Cabestanh, the author of some popular love-songs. Only when the poet’s guilt is established beyond a doubt does Raimon give way to his revengeful passion.