"
"Has he, then, a dog so handsome?" said the King.
"A most perfect creature of Heaven," said the baron, who was an
enthusiast in field-sports--"of the noblest Northern breed--deep
in the chest, strong in the stern--black colour, and brindled on
the breast and legs, not spotted with white, but just shaded into
grey--strength to pull down a bull, swiftness to cote an
antelope."
The King laughed at his enthusiasm. "Well, thou hast given him
leave to keep the hound, so there is an end of it. Be not,
however, liberal of your licenses among those knights adventurers
who have no prince or leader to depend upon; they are
ungovernable, and leave no game in Palestine.--But to this piece
of learned heathenesse--sayest thou the Scot met him in the
desert?"
"No, my liege; the Scot's tale runs thus. He was dispatched to
the old hermit of Engaddi, of whom men talk so much--"
"'Sdeath and hell!" said Richard, starting up. "By whom
dispatched, and for what? Who dared send any one thither, when
our Queen was in the Convent of Engaddi, upon her pilgrimage for
our recovery?"
"The Council of the Crusade sent him, my lord," answered the
Baron de Vaux; "for what purpose, he declined to account to me.
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