This raking shot was heard by everybody.  John grew red as fire.  ’Why, what do you mean, Richard?’ he stammered.

And Richard, ’Are my words so encumbered?  Think them over, get them by heart.  So doing, be pleased to ride with me to Paris.’  At this the colour left John’s face.

‘Ah!  To Paris?’ He looked as if he saw death under a bush.

‘That is where we must go,’ said Richard, ’so soon as we have prayed for that poor blind worm on the ground, who now haply sees wherein he has offended.’

‘Conrad of Montferrat, cousin of this dead, is there, Richard,’ said the other with intention; but Richard laughed.

’In a very good hour we shall find him.  I have to give him news of his cousin Saint-Pol.  What is he there for?’

’It is in the matter of the kingdom of Jerusalem.  He seeks Sibylla and that crown, and is like to get them.’

’I think not, John, I think not.  We will fill his head with other thoughts; we will set it wanting mine.  Your chance is a fair one yet, brother.’

Prince John laughed, but not comfortably.  ‘Your tongue bites, Richard.’

‘Pooh,’ says Richard, ‘what else are you worth?  I save my teeth’; and went his ways.

In Paris Richard repaired to the tower of his kinsman the Count of Angoulesme, but his brother to the Abbey of Saint-Germain.  The Poictevin herald bore word to King Philip-Augustus on Richard’s part; Prince John, as I suppose, bore his own word whither he had most need for it to go.  It is believed that he contrived to see Madame Alois in private; and if that great purple cape that held him in talk for nearly an hour by a windy corner of the Pre-aux-Clercs did not cover the back of Montferrat, then Gossip is a liar, Richard, for his part, took no account of John and his shifts; a wave of disgust for the creeping youth had filled the stronger man, and having got him into Paris there seemed nothing better to do with him than to let him alone.  But that sensitive gorge of Richard’s was one of his worst enemies:  if he did not mean to hold the snake in the stick, he had better not have cleft the stick.  As for John and his writhing, I am only half concerned with them; but let me tell you this.  Whatever he did or did not sprang not from hatred of this or that man, but from fear, or from love of his own belly.  Every prince of the house of Anjou loved inordinately some member of himself, some a noble member nobly, and others basely a base member.  If John loved his belly, Richard loved his royal head:  but enough.  To be done with all this, Richard was summoned to the French King hot-foot, within a day or two of his coming; went immediately with his chaplain Anselm and other one or two, and was immediately received.  He had, in fact, obeyed in such haste that he found two in the audience-chamber instead of one.  With Philip of France was Conrad of Montferrat, a large, pale, ruminating Italian, full of bluster and thick blood.  The French King was a youth, just the age of Jehane, of the thin, sharp, black-and-white mould into which had run the dregs of Capet.  He was smooth-faced like a girl, and had no need to shave; his lips were very thin, set crooked in his face.  So far as he was boy he loved and admired Richard, so far as he was Capet he distrusted him with all the rest of the world.