the household. With them were six other lads, sons of noblemen; and
all together laughed and played, and had their boyish pleasure.

When the duke saw them, he remembered his own boyhood days and the
companions who had shared his sports, and he sighed. The fair Beatrice
heard him, and she said, "My lord, what ails you, that you are so
thoughtful to-day? Why should a rich duke like you sigh and seem sad?
Great plenty of gold and silver have you in your coffers; you have
enough of the vair and the gray,[2] of hawks on their perches, of mules
and palfreys and war steeds; you have overcome all your foes, and none
dare rise up against you. All within six days' journey are your
vassals. What more would you desire to make you happy?"

"Sweet lady," answered Bego, "you have spoken truly. I am rich, as the
world goes; but my wealth is not happiness. True wealth is not of
money, of the vair and the gray, of mules, or of horses. It is of
kinsfolk and friends. The heart of a man is worth more than all the
gold of a country. Had it not been for my friends, I would have been
put to shame long ago. The king has given me this fief, far from my
boyhood's home, where I see but few of my old comrades and helpers. I
have not seen my brother Garin, the Lorrainer, these seven years, and
my heart yearns to behold him. Now, methinks, I will go to him, and I
will see his son, the child Girbert, whom I have never seen."

The Lady Beatrice said not a word, but the tears began to well up sadly
in her eyes.

"In the wood of Puelle," said Bego, after a pause, "there is said to be
a wild boar, the largest and fiercest ever seen. He outruns the
fleetest horses. No man can slay him. Methinks, that if it please