THE HORSE AS AN EPIC CHARACTER 



to some extent the demonstrations of hilarity by the 

 sight of his clenched fist, the ferocious rather than 

 haughty expression of his eye, forcing the mockers, if 

 they would laugh, to laugh with but one side of their 

 faces, like the antique masks. As for the shaggy steed, 

 he kept his eyes bent on the ground, his head drooping 

 lower than his knees, meekly ignoring the insults of the 

 horse-connoisseurs of Meung. In the epic, it is the 

 horse who is resentful and unwilling to tolerate any 

 criticism of his master's appearance. Aiol entered the 

 city, says the poem, one Thursday at the hour of 

 vespers. His lance was bent and black, his shield old 

 and his sword-strap broken. Marchegai noticed the 

 shabby arms. His nostrils dilated, he opened his 

 mouth, and bore his head high, like a stag hunted with 

 horns and pursued by hounds in the leafy forest. 

 Knights and burghers stared at Aiol. Ladies and 

 maidens mounted into the towers, and one citizen said 

 to his fellow: " Look, friend, who is this robber ? The 

 arms he bears he has stolen. But his face is bright and 

 fair, and well he seems to be son of a noble mother." 

 Aiol went his way greatly angered, for all, big and little, 

 followed and mocked him. Then up came a knave out 

 of a cellar; he had drunk much, played at dice, and lost 

 his all. He stopped Aiol. " Master," said he, " sue 

 you come at last ? Why have you tarried so long ? My 

 companions have lost everything. This horse is very 

 lean and broken down; he will be sold for wine." And 

 he seized the animal by the bridle. Marchegai looked 



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