ooks of the man. He did not
observe Saint-Pol on King Philip's left hand; but there he was, flushed,
excited, and tensely observant of his enemy. That same night, when they
held a council of war, there was seen a smoulder of that fire which you
might have decently supposed put out. King Philip came down in a mighty
hurry, and sat himself in the throne; Montferrat, Burgundy, and others
of that faction serried round about him. The English and Angevin chiefs
were furious, and the Archduke halted between two opinions. By the time
(lateish) when King Richard was announced Gaston of Bearn and young
Saint-Pol had their swords half out. But Richard came and stood in the
doorway, a magnificent leisurely figure. All his party rose up. Richard
waited, watching. The Archduke (who really had not seen him before) rose
with apologies; then the French followed suit, singly, one here and one
there. There only remained seated King Philip and the Marquess of
Montferrat. Still Richard waited by the door; presently, in a quiet
voice, he said to the usher, 'Take your wand, usher, to that paralytic
over there. Tell him that he shall use it, or I will.' The message was
delivered: at an angry nod from King Philip the Marquess got darkly up,
and Richard came into the hall with King Guy of Jerusalem. These two sat
down one on each side of France; and so the council began.

It was hopeless from the outset--a _posse_ of hornets droned into fury
by the Archduke. While he talked the rest maddened, longing for each
other's blood, failing that of Luitpold. Richard, who as yet had no
plans of his own, took no interest whatever in plans. He acted
throughout as if the Marquess was not there, and as if he wished with
all his heart that the Archduke was not there. On his part, the Marquess
would have given nearly all he owned to have behaved so to Guy of
Lusignan set over him; but the Marquess had not that art of lazy scorn
which belongs to the royal among beasts: he glowered, he was sulky.
Meantime the Archduke buzzed his age-long periods, and Richard (clasping
his knee) looked at the ceiling. At last he sighed profoundly, and 'God
of heaven and earth!' escaped him. King Philip burst into a guffaw--his
first for many a day--and broke up the assembly. Richard had himself
rowed out to Jehane in her ship.

He had no business there, though his business was innocent enough; but
she could not tell him so now. The girl was dejected, ill, and very
nervous about h