wrote for her songs
full of love and longing, declaring that her image dwells with him
always, that in her absence he cannot sleep, and that the mere thought
of her is sweeter far than sleep. Henry II. was not himself
irreproachable as a husband, and perhaps he thought it wise not to look
too closely into what his wife was doing. Just at this time, however,
Henry became King of England, and there was no need to urge Eleanor to
hasten across the channel to become queen; her vanity was sufficient for
that. The new queen and her troubadour were parted, and, says his
biographer, from that time Bernard remained sad and woeful. He writes
her that, for her sake, he will cross the channel, for he is both a
Norman and an Englishman now; but we do not know that the intimacy
between them was renewed.

This story is the only one of any detail showing the direct relations
between Eleanor and the troubadours. There are, however, a score of
other anecdotes which serve to show the relation of other women of her
class--not all princesses, but at least of the higher nobility--to the
troubadours. As illustrative of the position of women in Provence at
this time we may select a story as famous in troubadour annals as that
of Francesca da Rimini.

The Lady Margarida de Roussillon, says the Provencal biography, was the
"most beautiful lady of her time, and the most prized for all that is
praiseworthy, and noble, and courteous." She lived in happiness with her
husband, the powerful Baron Raymond de Roussillon. But in her suite was
a page, Guillem de Cabestanh, poor, but of noble birth, with whose
handsome face and gracious ways the Lady Margarida fell in love. "Love
kindled her thoughts with fire," till at last the passion so
overmastered her that she said to Guillem one day: "Guillem, if a lady
were to love you, could you love her?" "Certainly, my lady," replied the
young man, "if I thought she loved truly." "Well spoken! Tell me, now,
can you distinguish true love from counterfeit?"

These questions roused the smouldering love in Guillem's heart, and he
gave vent to it in "stanzas graceful and gay, and tunes and canzos, and
his songs found favor with all, but most with her for whom he sang."
Margarida, indeed, knew that he loved her and that the songs were
inspired by her, though Guillem had not as yet ventured to name her in
them or to speak to her. Once again she spoke to her timid lover, and he
confessed his love. Then began the love