elling of the perils he was encountering or escaping, and then made his
way back to the Chateau de Ventadour as soon as he could find a decent
excuse for doing so. Marie, however, was not so gracious to him as he
had hoped; she did not love him for the dangers he had passed, or for
his telling of them. She was, in fact, decidedly cold to him. Gaucelm,
in a rage, left the chateau, saying: "I shall never see you again! But
perhaps I can find another lady who will treat me with more
consideration." Marie was rather glad to be rid of her poet's
tempestuous love; but she was afraid of his sharp tongue; he could write
most bitter _sirventes_: what if he should avenge himself on her by
turning against her all his satiric powers?

In this dilemma she resorted to a stratagem which her friend, Madame de
Malamort helped her to put in practice, Madame de Malamort sent a
message to the troubadour asking: "Which do you prefer, a little bird in
the hand, or a crane flying high in the air?" Gaucelm's curiosity was
piqued; he came to ask her to unravel this riddle. "I am the little
bird," said she, "whom you hold in your hand, and Marie de Ventadour is
the crane who flies far above your head. Am I not as beautiful as she?
Love me who love you, and let this haughty countess find out, as she
will, what a treasure she has lost." The vanity of the troubadour,
incensed by what he thought unjust treatment, could not withstand this
artful attack. He consented to be off with the old love, and the new
love required that he take leave of the old love, not in any violent
sirvente, but in a poem relentless, stern, yet calm and dignified; after
which he might begin to sing as he pleased about the new love. Too proud
of his new conquest to suspect the trick being played on him, Gaucelm
bade farewell to Marie de Ventadour in a formal and very dignified
fashion. When he turned now to sing of joy and spring and the like to
Madame de Malamort he found his attentions very coldly received; and the
lady soon gave him to understand that, having got her friend out of a
difficulty, she cared not a fig for any troubadour. Gaucelm was nicely
trapped; he could not indulge in abuse of either lady without danger of
having the whole foolish tale told at his expense. He became a heretic
toward love, and satirized women in general; but he soon recovered from
this, and lived to be consoled by other ladies, and to be fooled by one
more. This one, Marguerite d'Aubusson, p