'Praise to the saints! it was not I who angered him,' said the fat Michel.
'Who, then?'
'It was young Sieur de Brissac of Saintonge, who chanced to be here, and made game of the Englishman, seeing that he was but a small man and hath a face which is full of peace. But indeed this good knight was a very quiet and patient man, for he saw that the Sieur de Brissac was still young and spoke from an empty head, so he sat his horse and quaffed his wine, even as you are doing now, all heedless of his clacking tongue.'
'And what then, Michel?'
'Well, messieurs, it chanced that the Sieur de Brissac, having said this and that, for the laughter of the varlets, cried out at last about the glove that the knight wore in his coif, asking if it was the custom in England for a man to wear a great archer's glove in his cap. Pardieu! I have never seen a man get off his horse as quick as did that stranger Englishman. Ere the words were past the other's lips he was beside him, his face nigh touching, and his breath hot upon his cheeks. "I think, young sir," quoth he softly, looking into the other's eyes, "that now that I am nearer, you will very clearly see that the glove is not an archer's glove." "Perchance not," said the Sieur de Brissac, with a twitching lip. "Nor is it large, but very small," quoth the Englishman. "Less large than I had thought," said the other, looking down, for the knight's gaze was heavy upon his eyelids. "And in every way such a glove as might be worn by the fairest and sweetest lady in England," quoth the Englishman. "It may be so," said the Sieur de Brissac, turning his face from him. "I am myself weak in the eyes, and have often taken one thing for another," quoth the knight, as he sprang back into his saddle and rode off, leaving the Sieur de Brissac biting his nails before my door. Ha! by the five wounds, many men of war have drunk my wine, but never one who was more to my fancy than this little Englishman.'
