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It chanced, however, that a knight of Poitou, Sir Gaston d'Estelle, was staying there on his way back from Lithuania, where he had served a term with the Teutonic knights under the land-master of the presbytery of Marienberg. He and Sir Nigel sat late in high converse as to bushments, outfalls, and the intaking of cities, with many tales of warlike men and valiant deeds.
Guy, these are my friends Count Pierre d'Estelle, Count Walter de Vesoul, the Sieur John de Perron, and the Knights Louis de Lactre, Sir Reginald Poupart, Sir James Regnier, Sir Thomas d'Autre, and Sir Philip de Noisies."
I called him back, and told him that I had caught a glimpse of a copy of the "Histoire d'Estelle et de Nemorin," which he had among his books; that I was very fond of shepherds and shepherdesses, and that I would be quite willing to purchase, at a reasonable price, the story of these two perfect lovers.
D'Estournel's arrival was greeted with a shout, and several of those disengaged at once came over to him. "Laggard!" one exclaimed, "what excuse have you to make for coming so late? I noted not that De Jouvaux's wine had mounted into your head last night, and surely the duke cannot have had need of your valuable services this morning?" "Neither one nor the other befell, D'Estelle.
The count went to the window, opened it, and called his friends below to come up. "No, no," D'Estelle said laughing; "if we once come up we shall stay there. If you cannot come now, join us at the Lion d'Or at Sevres, where you will find us eating the dinner that we have sent on to order." "The matter is urgent," D'Estournel said. "I am not joking with you, but pray you to come up at once."
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