enforced for the lady
respect.[46]

The resulting conditions, perhaps analogous to those of eighteenth-century
Italy where every woman of position had, in addition to a husband a
cavaliere servente, succeeded none the less in developing outside of
marriage and directly in opposition to it, the ideal of what marriage is,
the union not only of hands but of hearts. The Courts of Love might go,
their work endured. They made woman what she had been in republican Rome
and what she is to-day, the guide and associate of man.

Slowly thereafter they followed knight-errantry to its grave without
however meanwhile becoming what Hallam described as "fantastical
solemnities." "I never had," Hallam declared, "the patience to look at the
older writers who discussed this tiresome subject." In view of which his
opinions are not important, particularly as the Courts of Love so far from
becoming fantastic went to the other extreme. Instead of questions
beautiful and subtle, there arose others, highly realistic, together with
investigations _de visu_ which young gentlewomen treated in terms precise.

Before decadence set in, at a time when these establishments were at their
best and notwithstanding the ethical purport of their decisions,
misadventures occurred. Of these, one, commonly reported by all
authorities, is curious.

The Lord Raymond of Castel-Roussillon had for wife the Lady Marguerite.
Guillaume de Cabstain, a lad of quality came to their court where he was
made page to the countess and where, after certain episodes, he composed
for her the lai which runs:

"Sweet are the thoughts
That love awakes in me."

Etc. When Raymond heard the song he led Guillaume far from the castle, cut
his head off, put it in a basket, cut his heart out, put it also in a
basket, returned to the castle, had the heart roasted and had it served at
table to his wife. The Lady Marguerite ate without knowing what it was.
The repast concluded, Raymond stood up. He told his wife that what she had
eaten was the heart of the page. He fetched and showed her the head and
asked how the heart had tasted.

The Lady Marguerite, recognizing the head, replied that the heart had been
so appetizing that never other food or drink should take from her its
savor. Raymond ran at her with his sword. She fled away, threw herself
from a balcony and broke her skull.

The story, though commonly reported, has not been substantiated. It
occurred a long time ago