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Updated: June 12, 2025
Then Héloise said that it was a great joy in life to have the absorbing love of flowers as Victorine had! and I could not help laughing, because Victorine doesn't know one from another, and would not even help me this morning. The Marquis looked and looked at me when I laughed, and then lifting his glass of vin ordinaire, he said: "Les belles dents rendent gai." Wasn't it nice of him?
O gai, vive le roi! He rides on a white horse, Vive le roi, la reine! He wears a silver sword, Vive Napoleon! "Oh, grand to the war he goes, O gai, vive le roi! Oh, grand to the war he goes, O gai, vive le roi! Gold and silver he will bring, Vive le roi, la reine; And eke the daughter of a king Vive Napoleon!"
Had I thought then as I now do, be sure you would never have seen me here without my wife, whom now, madam, I will pray leave to present to you, the Lady Isoult le Gai." During this narration the Countess had risen slowly to her feet. She was labouring under some stress which Prosper could not fathom. For a little she stood, working her torture before him.
A tall and lean youth was Prosper le Gai, fair-haired and sanguine, square-built and square-chinned. He smiled at you; you saw two capital rows of white teeth, two humorous blue eyes; you would think, what a sweet-tempered lad!
"'Gai, gai, gai, le tonnelier, Raccommodez votre cuvier!" he answered, entering his wife's room fully dressed. "Yes, on my word, it is cold enough to freeze you solid. We shall have a fine breakfast, wife. Des Grassins has sent me a pate-de-foie-gras truffled! I am going now to get it at the coach-office.
Do what you choose, but understand that unless things alter to my liking, I take myself, my sword, and my head for affairs into the country." "And who are you, Messire, and what do I know of your head for affairs?" cried the High Bailiff, on his dignity. "My name is Prosper le Gai, at your service," the youth replied; "and as for my head, it becomes me not to speak."
Bertrand de Born was an evil counsellor to Henry Court-Mantel, but a singularly attractive figure of the twelfth century was this troubadour noble, whose life in the world was divided between the soothing charm of the 'gai scavoir' and the excitement of war, and who was equally at his ease whether he was holding the lance or the pen.
There is no pity in man nor woman that I have seen, save in two, and one is dead. Prosper le Gai, my lord, and husband, hath pity, and will come to me at last. And whether he shall come to my body alone or my spirit alone, he will come. And now, lord, hang me to a tree." "Dost thou want to be hanged?" he asked. "Nay, lord, I am too young to be hanged," she said.
Now and again a sentinel crossed the misty line of vision, silent, and majestically tall, in the soft haze, which came down from Dalgrothe Mountain and fell like a delicate silver veil before the face of the valley. As she looked, lost in a kind of dream, there floated up from the distant tent the refrain she knew so well: "Oh, say, where goes your love? O gai, vine le roi!"
If you were Galors and needed counsel you would not choose the wood; naturally you would avoid Malbank. There would remain to you Wanmouth. Galors went to Wanmouth. It was the Countess's country of course; but his disguise was good enough. People read the arms and hailed a le Gai or one of that house. It was at Wanmouth that he learned what he wanted.
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