"What's the color of her eye?" asked another; "for surely she can only have one, and that defective, if she looks with favor upon you."
"Last night I climbed to her balcony," said Jean solemnly. "My lady looked down from her window, as an angel might from an open door in heaven, and all the world seemed flooded with silver light. There was music in the air, music that thrilled my soul, her voice and her laughter. There was a sense of holiness about me as when incense rises from before an altar, and the prayers of saints meet sinners' prayers and, mingling, float upward to the throne of God. Her eyes were twin stars, afire with truth, to guide me in the way that leads to the hereafter; her hair an aureole like to the crown that I may win; and her breath, the essence of all the perfumes that cling about the fair fields of Paradise."
The men were silent, and laughed no more, for the dwarf looked almost inspired as he spoke.
"'Twas in St. Etienne. Surely he saw a vision last night," whispered one man to his companions.
"Wouldn't you have rushed from half a dozen miserable soldiers when such a love was awaiting your coming?" asked the dwarf, turning sharply to them. "It was not that I minded visiting the Count. He is hardly out of bed yet, eh, comrades, and I scent the perfume of coffee through the doorway there. Will you welcome me? The chill of the morning is in my bones."
"Come you in. I'll risk it," said the soldier who had opened the postern. "I ought to lock you up lest you escape again. Look you, Jean, the Count's in the mood to hang me if you run away."
"You shall not hang, comrade; my hand on it."
"They lost you last night, but they captured a bigger prize," said one man.
"That may easily be," the dwarf returned. "There are men of more inches than I am in plenty. Who was it they captured?"
"Captain Lemasle."