Il esgarda devant lui enmi la voie si vit un vallet tei que je vos dirai.  Grans estoit et mervellex et lais et hidex.  Il avoit une grande hure plus noire qu’une carbouclee, et avoit plus de planne paume entre ii ex, et avoit unes grandes joes et un grandisme nez plat, et une grans narines lees et unes grosses levres plus rouges d’unes carbounees, et uns grans dens gaunes et lais et estoit caucies d’uns housiax et d’uns sollers de buef fretes de tille dusque deseure le genol et estoit afules d’une cape a ii envers si estoit apoiies sor une grande macue.  Aucassins s’enbati sor lui s’eut grand paor quant il le sorvit...

“Baix frere, dix ti ait!”

“Dix vos benie!” fait cil.  “Se dix t’ait, que fais tu ilec?”

“A vos que monte?” fait cil.

“Nient!” fait Aucassins; “je nel vos demant se por bien non.”

“Mais pour quoi ploures vos?” fait cil, “et faites si fait doel?  Certes se j’estoie ausi rices hom que vos estes, tos li mons ne me feroit mie plorer.”

“Ba! me conissies vos!” fait Aucassins.

“Oie! je sai bien que vos estes Aucassins li fix le conte, et se vos me dites por quoi vos plores je vos dirai que je fac ici.”

As he looked before him along the way he saw a man such as I will tell you.  Tall he was, and menacing, and ugly, and hideous.  He had a great mane blacker than charcoal and had more than a full palm-width between his two eyes, and had big cheeks, and a huge flat nose and great broad nostrils, and thick lips redder than raw beef, and large ugly yellow teeth, and was shod with hose and leggings of raw hide laced with bark cord to above the knee, and was muffled in a cloak without lining, and was leaning on a great club.  Aucassins came upon him suddenly and had great fear when he saw him.

“Fair brother, good day!” said he.

“God bless you!” said the other.

“As God help you, what do you here?”

“What is that to you?” said the other.

“Nothing!” said Aucassins; “I ask only from good-will.”

“But why are you crying!” said the other, “and mounring so loud?  Sure, if I were as great a man as you are, nothing on earth would make me cry.”

“Bah! you know me?” said Aucassins.

“Yes, I know very well that you are Aucassins, the count’s son; and if you will tell me what you are crying for, I will tell you what I am doing here.”

Aucassins seemed to think this an equal bargain.  All damoiseaux were not as courteous as Aucassins, nor all “varlets” as rude as his peasants; we shall see how the young gentlemen of Picardy treated the peasantry for no offence at all; but Aucassins carried a softer, Southern temper in a happier climate, and, with his invariable gentle courtesy, took no offence at the familiarity with which the ploughman treated him.  Yet he dared not tell the truth, so he invented, on the spur of the moment, an excuse;—­he has lost, he said, a beautiful white hound.  The peasant hooted—­