I tell you, Charles himself liked it not, and that was the beginning of all the bother of talk about my lord--ignorant gabble of the countryside I call it.

Lord, if they only knew what I know, then, indeed--but enough.

Marshal Gilles is a mighty scholar as well, and hath Henriet the clerk--a weak, bleating ass that will some day blab if my master permit me not to slice his gizzard in time--he hath him up to read aloud Latin by the mile, all out of the books called Suetonius and Tacitus--such high-flavoured tales and full of--well, of things such as my master loves." So ran Gilles de Sille on as the miles fled back behind their horses' heels and the towers of Chartres rose grey and solemn through the morning mists before the travellers..