yet warmer
welcome."

The person who now stepped forward to make obeisance to Richard was a
young man of low stature and slight form. His dress was as modest as his
figure was unimpressive; but he bore on his bonnet a gold buckle, with a
gem, the lustre of which could only be rivalled by the brilliancy of
the eye which the bonnet shaded. It was the only striking feature in his
countenance; but when once noticed, it ever made a strong impression on
the spectator. About his neck there hung in a scarf of sky-blue silk a
WREST as it was called--that is, the key with which a harp is tuned, and
which was of solid gold.

This personage would have kneeled reverently to Richard, but the Monarch
raised him in joyful haste, pressed him to his bosom warmly, and kissed
him on either side of the face.

"Blondel de Nesle!" he exclaimed joyfully--"welcome from Cyprus, my king
of minstrels!--welcome to the King of England, who rates not his own
dignity more highly than he does thine. I have been sick, man, and, by
my soul, I believe it was for lack of thee; for, were I half way to the
gate of heaven, methinks thy strains could call me back. And what news,
my gentle master, from the land of the lyre? Anything fresh from the
TROUVEURS of Provence? Anything from the minstrels of merry Normandy?
Above all, hast thou thyself been busy? But I need not ask thee--thou
canst not be idle if thou wouldst; thy noble qualities are like a fire
burning within, and compel thee to pour thyself out in music and song."

"Something I have learned, and something I have done, noble King,"
answered the celebrated Blondel, with a retiring modesty which all
Richard's enthusiastic admiration of his skill had been unable to
banish.

"We will hear thee, man--we will hear thee instantly," said the King.
Then, touching Blondel's shoulder kindly, he added, "That is, if thou
art not fatigued with thy journey; for I would sooner ride my best horse
to death than injure a note of thy voice."

"My voice is, as ever, at the service of my royal patron," said Blondel;
"but your Majesty," he added, looking at some papers on the table,
"seems more importantly engaged, and the hour waxes late."

"Not a whit, man, not a whit, my dearest Blondel. I did but sketch an
array of battle against the Saracens, a thing of a moment, almost as
soon done as the routing of them."

"Methinks, however," said Thomas de Vaux, "it were not unfit to inquire
what soldiers your Grace hath