“He was not very astute, he who made thee believe that the love of a proud soul can be won with a few trinkets!  Ah, where are the handsome Troubadours, masters of love?”

She tells the love-stories of Geoffroy Rudel, of Ganbert de Puy-Abot, of Foulquet of Marseilles, of Guillaume de Balauen, of Guillaume de la Tour, and her words fall upon Calendau’s heart like a flame.  He catches a glimpse of an existence of constant ecstasy.

His second exploit is a tournament on the water, where the combatants stand on boats, and are rowed violently against one another, each striking his lance against the wooden breastplate of his adversary.  His victory wins for him the hatred of the Cassidians, for his enemy accuses him of cornering the fish.  Esterello consoles him with more stories from the Chansons de geste and the songs of the Troubadours.

In the seventh canto is described in magnificent language Calendau’s exploit on the Mont Ventoux.  This is a remarkable mountain, visible all over the southern portion of the Rhone valley, standing in solitary grandeur, like a great pyramid dominating the plain.  Its summit is exceedingly difficult of access.  It appears to be the first mountain that literature records as having been ascended for pleasure.  This ascent is the subject of one of Petrarch’s letters.

During nine days Calendau felled the larches that grew upon the flanks of the mighty mountain, and hurled the forest piecemeal into the torrent below.  At the Rocher du Cire he is frightfully stung by myriads of bees, during his attempt to obtain as a trophy for his lady a quantity of honey from this well-nigh inaccessible place.  The kind of criticism that is appropriate for realistic literature is here quite out of place.  It must be said, however, that the episode is far from convincing.  Calendau compares his sufferings to those of a soul in hell, condemned to the cauldron of oil.  Yet he makes a safe escape, and we never hear of the physical consequences of his terrible punishment.

The canto, in its vivid language, its movement, its life, is one of the most astonishing that has come from the pen of its author.  It offers beautiful examples of his inspiration in depicting the lovely aspects of nature.  He finds words of liquid sweetness to describe the music of the morning breezes breathing through the mass of trees:—­

“La Ventoureso matiniero,
En trespirant dins la sourniero
Dis aubre, fernissie coume un pur cantadis,
Ounte di colo e di vallado,
Touti li voues en assemblado,
Mandavon sa boufaroulado. 
Li mele tranquilas, li mele mescladis,” etc.

The morning breeze of the Mont Ventoux, breathing into the mass of
trees, quivered like a pure symphony of song wherein all the voices
of hill and dale sent their breathings.

In the last line the word tranquilas is meant to convey the idea “in tranquil grandeur.”