I leave him at this employment and follow Gaston on his way to the North.  It was early in March when that young man started, squally, dusty weather; but perfect trobador as he was, the nature of his errand warmed him; he composed a whole nosegay of scented songs in honour of Richard and the crocus-haired lady of the March who wore the broad girdle.  Riding as he did through the realm of France, by Chateaudun, Chartres, and Pontoise, he narrowly missed Eustace of Saint-Pol, who was galloping the opposite way upon an errand dead opposed to his own.  Gaston would have fought him, of course, but would have been killed to a certainty; for Saint-Pol rode as became his lordship, with a company, and the other was alone.  He was spared any such mischance, however, and arrived in the highest spirits, with an alba (song of the dawn) for what he supposed to be Jehane’s window.  It shows what an eye he had for a lady’s chamber that he was very nearly right.  A lady did put her head out; not Jehane, but a rock-faced matron of vast proportions with grey hair plastered to her cheeks.

‘Behold, behold the dawn, my tender heart!’ breathed Gaston.

‘Out, you cockerel,’ said the old lady, and Gaston wooed her in vain.  It appeared that she was an aunt, sworn to the service of the Count, and had Jehane safe in a tower under lock and key.  Gaston retired into the woods to meditate.  There he wrote five identic notes to the prisoner.  The first he gave to a boy whom he found birds’-nesting.  ’Take a turtle’s nest, sweet boy,’ said Gaston, ’to my lady Jehane; say it is first-fruits of the year, and win a silver piece.  Beware of an old lady with a jaw like a flat-iron.’  The second he gave to a woodman tying billets for the Castle ovens; the third a maid put in her placket, and he taught her the fourth by heart in a manner quite his own and very much to her taste.  With the fifth he was most adroit.  He demanded an interview with the duenna, whose name was Dame Gudule.  She accorded.  Gaston spilled his very soul out before her; he knelt to her, he kissed her large velvet feet.  The lady was touched, I mean literally, for Gaston as he stooped fitted his fifth note into the braid of her ample skirt.  The only one to arrive was the boy’s in the bird’s nest.  The boy wanted his silver piece, and got it.  So Jehane had another note to cherish.

But she had to answer it first.  It said, ’Vera Copia.  Ma mye, I set on to the burden you gave me, but it failed of breaking my back.  I have punished some of the wicked, and have some still to punish.  When this is done I shall come to you.  Wait for me.  I regret your brother’s death.  He deserved it.  The fight was fair.  Learn of me from Gaston.—­Richard of Anjou.’  Her answer was leaping in her heart; she led the boy to the window.

‘Look down, boy, and tell me what you can see.’

‘Dame!’ said the boy, ‘I see the moat, and ducks on it.’

‘Look again, dear, and tell me what you see.’