summer noon
Often he remembered it in later life ; it held a place and commanded a mood which no hour of his wildest possession could outvie . The mountain air , still , but latently nimble , the great mountains themselves dreaming in the sunlight , the sailing birds , hinted a peace to his soul whither his last conquest of his baser part assured him he might soar . Now he could guess -LRB- thought he -RRB- that quality in love which it borrows from God and shares with the angels , ministers of God , the steady burning of a flame keen and hard . So on an afternoon of weather serene beyond all belief of the North , mild , tired , softly radiant , still as a summer noon ; as he sat with Bertran in a courtyard where were lemon-trees and a fountain , and above the old white walls , and above the strutting pigeons , a square of blue , he began to speak of his affairs , of what he had done and of what was to do . Bertran 's was a grudging spirit : you shall hear the Abbot Milo upon that matter anon , than whom there are few better qualified to speak . He grudged Richard everything -- his beauty , his knit and graceful body , his brain like a sword , his past exploits , his present content . What it was contented him he knew not altogether , though a letter from Saint-Pol had in part advised him ; but he was sure he had wherewithal to discontent him .