later yet, or maybe a little less, there was another
surging to the gate about the arrival of four knights, who came posting
in, spattered with mud and the sweat and lather of their horses. They
were quite unknown to the people of Gisors, but seen for great men, as
indeed they were. Richard of Anjou was the first of them, a young man of
inches incredible to Gisors. 'He had a face like King Arthur's of
Britain,' says one: 'A red face, a tawny beard, eyes like stones.'
Behind him were three abreast: Roussillon, a grim, dark, heavy-eyed
man, bearded like a Turk; Beziers, sanguine and loose-limbed, a man with
a sharp tongue; Gaston of Bearn, airy hunter of fine phrases, looking
now like the prince of a fairy-tale, with roving eyes all a-scare for
adventure. The warders of the gate received them with a flourish. They
knew nothing of them, but were certain of their degree.

By preconcerted action they separated there. Roussillon and Beziers sat
like statues within the gate, one on each side of the way, actually upon
the bridge; and so remained, the admired of all the booths. Gaston, like
a yeoman-pricker in this hunting of the roe, went with Richard to the
edge of the covert, that is, to the steps of Saint Sulpice, and stood
there holding his master's horse. What remained to be done was done with
extreme swiftness. Richard alone, craning his head forward, stooping a
little, swaying his scabbarded sword in his hand, went with long soft
strides into the church.

At the entry he kneeled on one knee, and looked about him from under his
brows. Three or four masses were proceeding; out of the semi-darkness
shone the little twinkling lights, and illuminated faintly the kneeling
people, a priest's vestment, a silver chalice. But here was neither
marriage nor Jehane. He got up presently, and padded down the nave,
kneeling to every altar as he went. Many an eye followed him as he
pushed on and past the curtain of the ambulatory. They guessed him for
the wedding, and so (God knows) he was. In the shadow of a great pillar
he stopped short, and again went down on his knee; from here he could
see the business in train.

He saw Jehane at prayer, in green and white, kneeling at her faldstool
like a painted lady on an altar tomb; he just saw the pure curve of her
cheek, the coiled masses of her hair, which seemed to burn it. All the
world with the lords thereof was at his feet, but this treasure which he
had held and put away was denied hi