His spirit for the time had been crushed, not so much by the physical brutality as by the repulse to his aspirations.

Full of high hopes, and conscious of great ideas, he had been beaten like a felon hound.
From this spot beside the brook the distant camp appeared very beautiful.

The fluttering banners, the green roofs of the booths (of ferns and reeds and boughs), the movement and life, for bodies of troops were now marching to and fro, and knights in gay attire riding on horseback, made a pleasant scene on the sloping ground with the forest at the back.

Over the stream the sunshine lit up the walls of the threatened city, where, too, many flags were waving.

Felix came somewhat to himself as he gazed, and presently acknowledged that he had only had himself to blame.