We must wait.' Her voice was full of despair.
The leper came jumping from rock to rock, a horrible thing of rags and sores, with a loose lower jaw, which his disease had fretted to dislocation.

He stood in their mid path, in full sun, and plucking at his disastrous eyes, peered upon the gay company.

By this time all the riders were clustered together before him, and he fingered them out one after another--Richard, whom he called the Red Count, Gaston, Beziers, Auvergne, Limoges, Mercadet; but at Jehane he pointed long, and in a voice between a croak and a clatter (he had no palate), said thrice, 'Hail thou!' She replied faintly, 'God be good to thee, brother.' He kept his finger still upon her as he spoke again: every one heard his words.
'Beware (he said) the Count's cap and the Count's bed; for so sure as thou liest in either thou art wife of a dead man, and of his killer.' Jehane reeled, and Richard held her up.
'Begone, thou miserable,' he cried in his high voice, 'lest I pity thee no more.' But the leper was capering away over the rocks, hopping and flapping his arms like an old raven.

At a safe distance he squatted down and watched them, his chin on his bare knees.
This frightened Jehane so much that in the refectory of a convent, where they stayed the night, she could hardly see her victual for tears, nor eat it for choking grief.

She exhausted herself by entreaties.