AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE TRANSLATED FROM THE OLD FRENCH BYFRANCIS WILLIAM BOURDILLON LONDONKEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER & CO. LTD. DRYDEN HOUSE, GERRARD STREET, W. 1908 _All rights reserved_ INTRODUCTION The story of Love, that simple theme with variations _ad libitum_, _adinfinitum_, is never old, never stale, never out-of-date. And as wesometimes seek rest from the brilliant audacities and complex passions ofWagner or Tschaikowsky in the tender simplicity of some ancient Englishair, so we occasionally turn with relief from the wit and insight andsubtlety of our modern novelists to the old uncomplicated tales of faerieor romance, and find them after all more moving, more tender, even morereal, than all the laboured realism of these photographic days. And herebefore us is of all pretty love-stories perhaps the prettiest. Idyllicas Daphnis and Chloe, romantic as Romeo and Juliet, tender as Undine, remote as Cupid and Psyche, yet with perpetual touches of actual life, and words that raise pictures; and lightened all through with a daintyplayfulness, as if Ariel himself had hovered near all the time of itswriting, and Puck now and again shot a whisper of suggestion. Yet it is only of late years that the charm of this story has been trulyappreciated. Composed probably in Northern France, about the close ofthe twelfth century, --the time of our own Angevin kings and the mostbrilliant period of Old-French literature, --it has survived only in asingle manuscript of later date, where it is found hidden among a numberof tales in verse less pleasing in subject and far less delightful inform. There it had lain unknown till discovered by M. De Sainte-Palaye, and printed by him in modernised French in 1752, one hundred and fiftyyears ago. There is no space here to follow its fortunes since. Evenafter this revival it was not till more than one hundred years later thatit began to attain to any wide recognition. And in England thisrecognition has been mainly due to Mr Pater's delightful essay in hisearly work "Studies in the History of the Renaissance. " Since thepublication of this book in 1873, the story of Aucassin and Nicolette hashad an ever-growing train of admirers both in England and America, andvarious translations have appeared on both sides of the Atlantic. It hasalso been translated into several other European languages, besidesversions in modern French. The story, so far as the simple old-world plot is concerned, is veryprobably not the original invention of whoever gave it this particularform, any more than were the plots of Shakespeare's plays of his owndevising. It seems likely that in origin it is Arabian or Moorish, andits birthplace not Provence but Spain. Possibly it sprung, as so much ofthe best poetry and story has sprung, from the touching of two races, andthe part friction part fusion of two religions, in this case of the Moorand the Christian. There was in 1019 a Moorish king of Cordova namedAlcazin. Turn this name into French and we have Aucassin. And toreverse the roles of Christian and heathen is a very usual device for astory-teller transplanting a story from another country to his own. Though the scene is nominally laid in Provence there are a good manysigns of a Spanish origin in the places mentioned. By Carthage is meant, not the city of Dido, but Carthagena; and thus the husband devised forNicolette is "one of the greatest kings in all Spain. " Valence againmight originally have been not the Valence on the Rhone, but Valence legrand, or Valentia. And it is curious to observe that Beaucaire isclosely connected with Tarascon--a bridge across the Rhone unitesthem--and that this latter name nearly resembles Tarragona, a place whichin other French romances is actually called Terrascoigne. The shipwreckwhich in the story takes place, impossibly, at Beaucaire, may haveoriginally happened, quite naturally, at Tarragona. Even the nonsense-name, Torelore, might easily have had its rise in Torello. Again, thoughit has been shown that all modern reports of the _Couvade_ as existing inBiscay have been founded only on the ancient assertion of Strabo, it isstill remarkable that it is in this part of Europe alone that the customhas ever been found. If the composer of Aucassin derived his story from such a source, it iseasy to see also whence he got the idea of the special form he has givenit; for a narrative in prose mingled with interludes of verse, thoughstrange to European literature, is common in Arabian. And yet, whatever his sources or his models, one feels that his debt tothem is trifling compared to the worth of his own work. All that hedescribes he has seen with his own eyes; and all that he tells, be itborrowed or invented, is quickened and heightened and made immortal byhis own touch upon it. All who can should read this story in its own language--the simple easy-flowing Old-French, with its infantile syntax, and naive but effectiveefforts at distinction and what we now call style. There are variouseditions of the old French text; but the two easiest to get and also toread are that of Professor Suchier, and my own. Those in search oflearning will always turn to Germany, and Suchier is a very learned man. But I can honestly advise all English readers to get my edition(Macmillan, 1897) in which the text is given as pure as I could draw itfrom the fountain head, the original MS. At Paris; where the music to theverse sections will be found printed in its proper notation; and whichcontains also a literal translation, full notes, and a glossary. The present translation varies a good deal from that I printed with theOld-French text. I have to some extent relaxed the restrictions Iimposed on myself there, and have given freer turns, even vergingoccasionally on paraphrase, to bring out the full meaning, which it isoften possible to miss in the original, especially in the very condensedstyle of the verses. These changes will, I hope, make this version easyand pleasant to read even by those who have no leisure or no inclinationto attempt the study of the Old-French itself. AUCASSIN & NICOLETTE 'TIS OF AUCASSIN AND OF NICOLETTE Who would list a pleasant lay, Pastime of the old and grey?Of two lovers, children yet, Aucassin and Nicolette;Of the sorrows he went through, Of the great things he did do, All for his bright favoured may. Sweet the song is, fair the say, Full of art and full of grace. There is none in such ill case, Sad with sorrow, waste with care, Sick with sadness, if he hear, But shall in the hearing beWhole again and glad with glee, So sweet the story. _Here they speak and tell the story_. How Bulgarius Count of Valence made war upon Warren Count of Beaucaire. And this war was so great, so marvellous, and so mortal, that not a daydawned but there he was before the city, at the gates, at the walls, atthe fences, with knights a hundred and men-at-arms ten thousand on footand on horse; and he burned his land, laid waste his country, and slewhis liegemen. Warren, Count of Beaucaire, was an old man and feeble, whohad overlived his term. He had none to succeed him, neither son nordaughter, save one only boy; and what he was like, I will tell you. Aucassin was the young lord's name, and a pretty lad he was. He hadgolden hair in little curls, and laughing blue eyes, a face fair ofcolour and fine of curve, and a proud shapely nose. Aye, so endued washe with good conditions that there was none bad in him, but good only. But so overcome was he of Love, who masters all, that he refusedknighthood, abjured arms, shunned the tourney, and left undone all hisdevoir. His father and his mother would say to him: "Son! come, take thine armsand to horse! Fight for thy land and succour thy liegemen! If they seethee in the midst of them, they will fight the better for their lives andtheir havings and for thy land and mine!" "Father, " said Aucassin, "to what purpose is this oration? Never Godgive me ought that I ask of Him, if I take knighthood or mount horse, ifI face fight or battlefield to smite knight or be myself smitten, if yougive me not Nicolette, my sweet friend whom I love so well!" "My son, " said his father, "it cannot be. Have done with Nicolette! Sheis a slave-girl, carried captive from a foreign land. The Viscount ofthis place bought her of the heathen, and brought her here. He held herat the font, and christened her, and stood godfather to her. Some day hewill give her a young fellow to win bread for her in wedlock. What isthis to you? If you want a wife, I will give you a king's daughter or acount's. There is never so rich a man in France but you shall have hisdaughter, if you want her. " "Alack, father!" said Aucassin. "Where now is honour on earth so high, which Nicolette my sweet friend would not grace if it were hers? Wereshe Empress of Constantinople or of Germany, were she Queen of France orof England, there were but little in it, so noble is she and gracious anddebonair and endued with all good conditions. " _Here they sing_. Aucassin was of Beaucaire;His was the fine castle there;But on slender NicolettePast man's moving is he set, Whom his father doth refuse;Menace did his mother use: "Out upon thee, foolish boy!Nicolette is but a toy, Castaway from Carthagen, Bought a slave of heathen men. If for marrying thou be, Take a wife of high degree!" "Mother, I will none but her. Hath she not the gentle air, Grace of limb, and beauty bright?I am snared in her delight. If I love her 'tis but meet, So passing sweet!" _Here they speak and tell the story_. When Warren Count of Beaucaire perceived that Aucassin his son was not tobe moved from his love of Nicolette, he betook him to the Viscount of theplace, who was his liegeman; and addressed him thus: "Sir Viscount, come, rid me of Nicolette your god-daughter! A curse onthe land whence ever she was fetched to this country! Now Aucassin islost to me, and all because of her. He refuses knighthood and leavesundone all his devoir. Rest assured that if I can get hold of her I willburn her in a fire; and for yourself too you may fear the worst. " "Sir, " said the Viscount, "'tis grief to me that he go to her, or come toher, or speak to her. I had bought her with my poor pieces. I had heldher at the font, and christened her, and stood god-father to her; and Iwould have given her a young fellow to win bread for her in wedlock. Whatis this to Aucassin your son? But seeing your will is so and your goodpleasure, I will send her to such a land and to such a country that heshall never set eyes on her more. " "See you do so!" said Count Warren. "Else it might go ill with you. " Thus they parted. Now the Viscount was a very rich man, and had a finepalace with a garden before it. He had Nicolette put in a room there, onan upper storey, with an old woman for company; and he had bread putthere, and meat and wine and all they needed. Then he had the doorlocked, so that there was no way to get in or out. Only there was awindow of no great size which looked on the garden and gave them a littlefresh air. _Here they sing_. Nicolette is prisoner, In a vaulted bed-chamber, Strange of pattern and design, Richly painted, rarely fine. At the window-sill of stoneLeaned the maiden sad and lone. Yellow was her shining hair, And her eyebrow pencilled rare, Face fine-curved and colour fair:Never saw you lovelier. Gazed she o'er the garden-ground, Saw the opening roses round, Heard the birds sing merrily;Then she made her orphan cry: "Woe's me! what a wretch am I!Caged and captive, why, ah why?Aucassin, young lord, prithee, Your sweetheart, am I not she?Ay, methinks you hate not me. For your sake I'm prisoner, In this vaulted bed-chamber, Where my life's a weary one. But by God, sweet Mary's son, Long herein I will not stay, Can I find way!" _Here they speak and tell the story_. Nicolette was in prison, as you have harkened and heard, in the chamber. The cry and the noise ran through all the land and through all thecountry that Nicolette was lost. There are some say she is fled abroadout of the land. Other some that Warren, Count of Beaucaire, has had herdone to death. Rejoice who might, Aucassin was not well pleased. But hewent straightway to the Viscount of the place, and thus addressed him: "Sir Viscount, what have you done with Nicolette, my very sweet friend, the thing that I love best in all the world? Have you stolen and takenher from me? Rest assured that if I die of this thing, my blood will berequired of you; and very justly, when you have gone and killed me withyour two hands. For you have stolen from me the thing that I love bestin all the world. " "Fair sir, " said the Viscount, "now let be! Nicolette is a slave-girlwhom I fetched from a foreign land and bought for money of the heathen. Iheld her at the font, and christened her and stood godfather to her, andhave brought her up. One of these days I would have given her a youngfellow to win bread for her in wedlock. What is this to you? Take yousome king's daughter or some count's. Moreover, what were you profited, think you, had you made her your concubine, or taken her to live withyou? Mighty little had you got by that, seeing that your soul would bein Hell for ever and ever, for to Paradise you would never win!" "Paradise? What have I to do there? I seek not to win Paradise, so Ihave Nicolette my sweet friend whom I love so well. For none go toParadise but I'll tell you who. Your old priests and your old cripples, and the halt and maimed, who are down on their knees day and night, before altars and in old crypts; these also that wear mangy old cloaks, or go in rags and tatters, shivering and shoeless and showing theirsores, and who die of hunger and want and cold and misery. Such are theywho go to Paradise; and what have I to do with them? Hell is the placefor me. For to Hell go the fine churchmen, and the fine knights, killedin the tourney or in some grand war, the brave soldiers and the gallantgentlemen. With them will I go. There go also the fair gracious ladieswho have lovers two or three beside their lord. There go the gold andthe silver, the sables and ermines. There go the harpers and theminstrels and the kings of the earth. With them will I go, so I haveNicolette my most sweet friend with me. " "I' faith, " said the Viscount, "'tis but vain to speak of it; you willsee her no more. Aye, were you to get speech of her and it came to yourfather's ears, he would burn both her and me in a fire; and for yourselftoo you might fear the worst. " "This is sore news to me, " said Aucassin. And he departed from theViscount, sorrowful. _Here they sing_. Aucassin has turned once moreIn wanhope and sorrow soreFor his love-friend bright of face. None can help his evil case, None a word of counsel say. To the palace went his way;Step by step he climbed the stair;Entered in a chamber there. Then he 'gan to weep alone, And most dismally to groan, And his lady to bemoan. "Nicolette, ah, gracious air!Coming, going, ever fair!In thy talk and in thy toying, In thy jest and in thy joying, In thy kissing, in thy coying. I am sore distressed for thee. Such a woe has come on meThat I trow not to win free, Sweet sister friend!" _Here they speak and tell the story_. At the same time that Aucassin was in the chamber, bemoaning Nicolettehis friend, Bulgarius Count of Valence, who had his war to maintain, forgat it not; but he had summoned his men, foot and horse, and advancedto assault the castle. And the cry went up and the noise; and theknights and men-at-arms girt on their armour, and hastened to the gatesand walls to defend the castle; while the townsfolk mounted the parapetsand hurled bolts and sharpened stakes. At the time when the assault wasfast and furious, Warren Count of Beaucaire came into the chamber whereAucassin was weeping and bemoaning Nicolette his most sweet friend whomhe loved so well. "Ah, my son!" said he. "Wretch that thou art and unhappy, to see assaultmade on this thy castle--none better nor more strong! Know, moreover, that if thou lose it thou losest thine inheritance! Come now, my son, take thine arms and to horse! Fight for thy land, and succour thyliegemen, and get thee to the field! Though thou strike never a man norbe thyself stricken, if they but see thee among them they will make abetter fight for their lives and their havings, and for thy land andmine. So tall art thou and so strong, 'tis no great thing to do; and itis thy devoir. " "Father, " said Aucassin, "to what purpose is this oration? Never Godgive me ought that I ask of him, if I take knighthood or mount horse orgo to the fighting to smite knight or be myself smitten, if you give menot Nicolette, my sweet friend, whom I love so well!" "Son, " said his father, "that cannot be. Rather would I suffer loss ofall my inheritance, aye, of all I have, than that thou shouldst have herto woman or to wife!" And he turned to go. And when Aucassin saw him departing, he called himback. "Father, " said Aucassin, "come hither, and I will make a fair covenantwith you!" "Aye, and what covenant, fair son?" "I will take arms and go to the fighting on such condition, that, if Godbring me again safe and sound, you will give me leave to see Nicolette mysweet friend for such time as I may speak two words to her or three, andonce only kiss her. " "I consent, " said his father. So he made agreement with him, and Aucassin was well-pleased. _Here they sing_. Aucassin heard of the kissOn returning to be his. Hundred thousand marks pure goldHim had made less blithe and bold. Arms he called for, rich and rare;They made ready for his wear. Hauberk donned he, double-lined;Helmet on his head did bind;Girt his sword with hilt pure gold;Mounted on his charger bold;Spear and buckler then he took;At his two feet cast a look, In the stirrups trod they trim;Wondrous proud he carried him. His sweet friend--he thought on her, To his charger clapped the spur;Forth he springs full mettlesome;Straightway to the gate they come That led to battle. _Here they speak and tell the story_. Aucassin was arrayed and mounted on his horse, as you have harkened andheard. Lord! how well it became him--the shield on his neck and the helmon his head and the sword-belt on his left hip! And the boy was tall andstrong and comely and slim and well-grown; and the horse he bestrode wasfleet of foot and high of mettle, and the boy had put him through thegate cleverly. Now don't you suppose that his thoughts would have beenset on taking spoil of oxen or cows or goats? that he would have struckat some knight or been stricken in turn? Not a whit! it never onceoccurred to him. But his thought was so set upon Nicolette, his sweetfriend, that he forgot the reins and all he had to do. And his horse, feeling the spur, dashed with him through the press, and charged rightinto the thick of the enemy, who laid hands on him on all sides, and madehim prisoner. They took from him shield and lance, and led him captivethen and there. They were already questioning one with another as towhat manner of death they should put him to; and when Aucassin heard it, "Ah, gracious Heaven!" he said, "and are these my mortal foes who hale mehere and are presently about to cut off my head? And once I have my headcut off, nevermore shall I speak to Nicolette my sweet friend whom I loveso well. Nay, I have yet a good sword, and under me a good steeduntired. An I defend me not now for her sake, ne'er help her God if everagain she love me!" The boy was tall and strong, and the horse beneath him was eager. He puthis hand to his sword and began to strike to right and to left, slashinghelmet and nose-guard, fist and wrist, and making havoc all around him asthe boar does when the dogs set on him in the forest; so that heoverthrew ten of their knights and wounded seven; and charged then andthere out of the press, and rode back full gallop, sword in hand. Bulgarius, Count of Valence, heard say that they were about to hangAucassin his enemy, and came that way. Aucassin failed not to espy him;and gripping his sword, he smote him through the helmet so that he claveit to the skull. He was so stunned that he fell to earth; and Aucassinput out his hand and took him prisoner, and led him off by the nose-guardof his helmet, and delivered him to his father. "Father, " said Aucassin, "see here is your enemy who has made war on youso long and done you hurt so great. Twenty years has this war lasted, and never a man to put an end to it. " "Fair son, " said his father, "well were it you should do deeds like this, and not gape at folly!" "Father, " said Aucassin, "read me no lectures, but keep me my covenant!" "Bah! what covenant, fair son?" "Alack, father, have you forgotten it? By the head of me, forget it whomay, I do not mean to forget it. Rather have I laid it much to heart. Did you not make this covenant with me, that if I took arms and went outto the fighting, and if God brought me back safe and sound, you would letme see Nicolette my sweet friend for such time as I might speak two wordsto her or three, and once only kiss her? This covenant you made with me, and this covenant I will have you keep with me!" "What, I?" said his father. "Ne'er help me Heaven if I keep thiscovenant with you! and were she here now I would burn her in a fire; andfor yourself too you might fear the worst. " "Is this the whole conclusion?" said Aucassin. "Aye, " said his father, "so help me Heaven!" "I' faith, " said Aucassin, "then I am very sorry that a man of your ageshould be a liar. --Count of Valence, you are my prisoner. " "Sir, it is even so, " said the Count. "Give me your hand!" said Aucassin. "Sir, right willingly. " He put his hand in his. "This you pledge me, " said Aucassin, "that never in all your days to beshall it be in your power to do shame to my father or to do hurt to himor his, and you not do it!" "Sir, " said he, "for God's sake, mock me not, but set me a ransom! Youcan ask me nothing, gold or silver, war-horses or palfreys, sables orermines, hounds or hawks, that I will not give you. " "How now?" said Aucassin. "Wot you not that you are my prisoner?" "Aye, sir, " said the Count Bulgarius. "Ne'er help me Heaven, " said Aucassin, "save you give me this pledge, ifI send not your head a-flying!" "I' God's name, " said he, "I give you what pledge you please!" He gave the pledge; and Aucassin set him on a horse, and himself mountedanother, and conducted him till he was in safety. _Here they sing_. When Count Warren saw indeedThat he never will succeedAucassin his son to getFrom bright-favoured Nicolette, In a pris'n he had him set, In a dungeon hid from day, Builded all of marble grey. Now when Aucassin came thereSad he was--so was he ne'er. Loud lamenting he fell on, Thus as you shall hear anon. "Flow'r o' the lily, Nicolette!Bright-faced sweetheart, Nicolette!Sweet as cluster of the vine, Sweet as meed in maselyn. This I saw some yesterday, How a pilgrim on his way--Limousin his land was--layFevered on a bed within. Grievous had his sickness been, Great the fever he was in. By his bedside NicolettePassing, lifted skirts and let--'Neath the pretty ermine frock, 'Neath the snowy linen smock--Just a dainty ankle show. Lo, the sick was healed, and lo, Found him whole as ne'er before. From his bed he rose once more, And to his own land did flit, Safe and sound, whole ever whit. Flow'r o' the lily, Nicolette!Coming, going, ever pleasing, In thy talk and in thy teasing, In thy jest and in thy joying, In thy kisses, in thy coying!There is none could hate thee, dear!Yet for thy sake am I here, In this dungeon hid from day, Where I cry Ah, well-a-way!Now to die behoveth me, Sweet friend, for thee!" _Here they speak and tell the story_. Aucassin was put in prison, as you have listened and heard, and Nicolettewas elsewhere in the chamber. 'Twas the summer time, the month of May, when the days are warm and long and bright, and the nights still andcloudless. Nicolette lay one night in her bed, and saw the moon shinebright through a window, and heard the nightingale sing in the garden;and she remembered Aucassin her friend, whom she loved so well. Then shefell a-thinking of Warren Count of Beaucaire, and how he hated her todeath; and she thought within herself that she would abide there nolonger; since if she were betrayed and Count Warren knew of her, he wouldput her to an evil death. She perceived that the old woman who was withher slept. And she arose and clad her in a goodly gown that she had ofcloth-of-silk; and she took bedclothes and towels, and tied one to otherand made a rope as long as she could, and made it fast to thewindow-shaft; and so got down into the garden. Then she took her dressin one hand before, and in the other behind, and girded herself, becauseof the dew she saw heavy on the grass, and went her way down the garden. She had golden hair in little curls, and laughing blue eyes, and a facefinely curved, and a proud shapely nose, and lips more red than cherry orrose in summertime, and small white teeth, and little breasts thatswelled beneath her clothes like two nuts of a walnut-tree. And herwaist was so fine that your two hands could have girdled her; and thedaisy-flowers snapped by her toes, and lying on the arch of her foot, were fairly black beside her feet and ankles, so very white the girl was. She came to the postern, and unfastened it, and went out through thestreets of Beaucaire, keeping to the shadow, for the moon shone verybright; and she went on till she came to the tower where her friend was. The tower had cracks in it here and there, and she crouched against oneof the piers, and wrapped herself in her mantle, and thrust her head intoa chink in the tower, which was old and ancient, and heard Aucassinwithin weeping and making very great sorrow, and lamenting for his sweetfriend whom he loved so much. And when she had listened enough to himshe began to speak. _Here they sing_. Nicolette the bright of faceLeaned her at the buttress-base, Heard within her lover dearWeeping and bewailing her;Then she spake the thought in her: "Aucassin, most gentle knight, High-born lording, honoured wight, What avails you to weep so?What your wailing, what your woe?I may ne'er your darling be, For your father hateth me;All your kin thereto agree. For your sake I'll pass the sea, Get me to some far countrie. " Tresses of her hair she clipped, And within the tower slipped. Aucassin, that lover true, Took them and did honour due, Fondly kissed them and caressed, And bestowed them in his breast. Then in tears anew he brake For his love's sake. _Here they speak and tell the story_. When Aucassin heard Nicolette say that she would depart into anothercountry, he felt nothing but anger. "Fair sweet friend, " said he, "you shall not depart, for then would youhave killed me. The first man that set eyes on you and could do so wouldstraightway lay hands on you and take you to be his concubine. And onceyou had lived with any man but me, now dream not that I should wait tofind a knife wherewith to strike me to the heart and kill me! Nay, verily, that were all too long to wait. Rather would I fling me just sofar as I might see a bit of wall, or a grey stone; and against that wouldI dash my head so hard that my eyes should start out and all my brains bescattered. Yet even such a death would I die rather than know you hadlived with any man but me. " "Ah!" said she, "I trow not that you love me so well as you say; but Ilove you better than you do me. " "Alack!" said Aucassin, "fair sweet friend! That were not possible thatyou should love me so well as I do you. Woman cannot love man so well asman loves woman. For a woman's love lies in her eye, in bud of bosom ortip of toe. But a man's love is within him, rooted in his heart, whenceit cannot go forth. " While Aucassin and Nicolette were talking together, the town watch camedown a street. They had their swords drawn under their cloaks, for CountWarren had given them command that if they could lay hands on her theyshould kill her. And the watchman on the tower saw them coming, andheard that they were talking of Nicolette and threatening to kill her. "Great Heavens!" he said, "what pity it were should they slay so fair amaid! 'Twere a mighty good deed if I could tell her, in such wise thatthey perceived it not, and she could be ware of them. For if they slayher, then will Aucassin my young lord die; and that were great pity. " _Here they sing_. Valiant was the watch on wall, Kindly, quick of wit withal. He struck up a roundelayVery seasonably gay. "Maiden of the noble heart, Winsome fair of form thou art;Winsome is thy golden hair, Blue thine eye and blithe thine air. Well I see it by thy cheer, Thou hast spoken with thy fere, Who for thee lies dying here. This I tell thee, thou give ear!'Ware thee of the sudden foe!Yonder seeking thee they go. 'Neath each cloak a sword I see;Terribly they threaten thee. Soon they'll do thee some misdeed Save thou take heed!" {39} _Here they speak and tell the story_. "Ah!" said Nicolette; "now may thy father's soul and thy mother's be inblessed repose, for the grace and for the courtesy with which thou hasttold me! Please God I will guard me well from them, and may God Himselfbe my guard!" She wrapped her mantle about her in the shadow of the pier, till they hadpassed. Then she took leave of Aucassin and went her way till she cameto the castle wall. There was a breach in it which had been boarded up. On to this she climbed, and so got over between the wall and the ditch;and looking down she saw the ditch was very deep and the sides verysheer, and she was sore afraid. "Ah, gracious Heaven!" she said; "if I let myself fall I shall break myneck; and if I abide here, I shall be taken to-morrow and burned in afire. Nay, I had liefer die here than be made a show to-morrow for allthe folk to stare at!" She crossed herself, and let herself slip down into the ditch. And whenshe came to the bottom, her fair feet and her fair hands, untaught thatought could hurt them, were bruised and torn, and the blood flowed infull a dozen places. Nevertheless she felt neither hurt nor pain for hergreat dread. And if she were troubled as to the getting in, she was farmore troubled as to the getting out. But she bethought her that it wasno good to linger there; and she found a sharpened stake which had beenthrown by those within in the defence of the castle; and with this shemade steps one above the other, and with much difficulty climbed up tillshe reached the top. Now hard by was the forest, within two bowshots. It stretched fullthirty leagues in length and in breadth, and had wild beasts in it andsnaky things. She was afraid that if she went into it, these would killher; and on the other hand she bethought her that if she were found thereshe would be taken back to the town to be burned. _Here they sing_. Nicolette, that bright-faced may, Up the moat had won her way, And to waymenting did fall, And on Jesu's name 'gan call: "Father, King of Majesty!Now I wot not which way fly. Should I to the greenwood hie, There the wolves will me devour, And the lions and wild boar, Whereof yonder is great store. Should I wait the daylight clear, So that they should find me here, Lighted will the fire binThat my body shall burn in. But, O God of Majesty!I had liefer yet fairlyThat the wolves should me devour, And the lions and wild boar, Than into the city fare! I'll not go there. " _Here they speak and tell the story_. Nicolette made great lamentation, as you have heard. She commendedherself to God, and went on till she came into the forest. She durst notgo deep into it, for the wild beasts and the snaky things; and she creptinto a thick bush, and sleep fell on her. She slept till the morrow athigh Prime, when the herdboys came out of the town, and drove theirbeasts between the wood and the river. They drew aside to a verybeautiful spring which was at the edge of the forest, and spread out acloak and put their bread on it. While they were eating, Nicolette awokeat the cry of the birds and of the herdboys, and she sprang towards them. "Fair children!" said she, "may the Lord help you!" "May God bless you!" said the one who was more ready of speech than theothers. "Fair children, " said she, "know you Aucassin, the son of the CountWarren of Beaucaire?" "Yes, we know him well. " "So God help you, fair children, " said she, "tell him that there is abeast in this forest, and that he come to hunt it. And if he can catchit he would not give one limb of it for a hundred marks of gold, no, notfor five hundred, nor for any wealth. " And they gazed at her, and when they saw her so beautiful they were allamazed. "What, I tell him?" said he who was more ready of speech than the others. "Sorrow be his whoever speak of it or whoever tell him! 'Tis fantasythat you say, since there is not so costly a beast in this forest, neither stag nor lion nor wild boar, one of whose limbs were worth morethan two pence, or three at the most; and you speak of so great wealth!Foul sorrow be his who believe you, or whoever tell him! You are a fay, and we have no care for your company. So keep on your way!" "Ah, fair children!" said she, "this will you do! The beast has such amedicine that Aucassin will be cured of his hurt. And I have here fivesous in my purse; take them, so you tell him! Aye, and within three daysmust he hunt it, and, if in three days he find it not, never more will hebe cured of his hurt!" "I' faith!" said he, "the pence will we take; and if he come here we willtell him, but we will never go to seek him. " "I' God's name!" said she. Then she took leave of the herdboys, and went her way. _Here they sing_. Nicolette, that bright-faced may, From the herdboys went her way, And her journeying addressedThrough the leafy thick forest, Down a path of olden day, Till she came to a highway, Where do seven roads divideThrough the land to wander wide. Then she fell bethinking herShe will try her true loverIf he love her as he sware. Flow'rs o' the lily gathered she, Branches of the jarris-tree, And green leaves abundantly. And she built a bower of green;Daintier was there never seen. By the truth of Heaven she sware, That should Aucassin come there, And a little rest not takeIn the bower for her sweet sake, Ne'er shall he her lover be, Nor his love she! _Here they speak and tell the story_. Nicolette had made the bower, as you have harkened and heard; very prettyshe made it and very dainty, and all bedecked within and without withflowers and leaves. Then she laid her down near to the bower in a thickbush, to see what Aucassin would do. And the cry and the noise went through all the land and through all thecountry that Nicolette was lost. There are some say that she is fledaway; other some that the Count Warren has had her done to death. Rejoicewho might, Aucassin was not well pleased. Count Warren his father badetake him out of prison; and summoned the knights of the land, and thedamozels, and made a very rich feast, thinking to comfort Aucassin hisson. But while the feasting was at its height, there was Aucassin leanedagainst a balcony, all sorrowful and all downcast. Make merry who might, Aucassin had no taste for it; since he saw nothing there of that heloved. A knight looked upon him, and came to him, and accosted him: "Aucassin, " said he, "of such sickness as yours, I too have been sick. Iwill give you good counsel, if you will trust me. " "Sir, " said Aucassin, "gramercy! Good counsel should I hold dear. " "Mount on a horse, " said he, "and go by yon forest side to divert you;there you will see the flowers and green things, and hear the birds sing. Peradventure you shall hear a word for which you shall be the better. " "Sir, " said Aucassin, "gramercy! So will I do. " He stole from the hall, and descended the stairs, and came to the stablewhere his horse was. He bade saddle and bridle him; and setting foot instirrup, he mounted and rode forth out of the castle, and went on till hecame to the forest. He rode till he reached the spring, and came uponthe herdboys at the point of None. They had spread a cloak on the grass, and were eating their bread and making very great merriment. _Here they sing_. Came the herds from every part in;There was Esme, there was Martin;There was Fruelin and Johnny;Aubrey boon, and Robin bonny. Then to speech did one address him:"Mates, young Aucassin, God bless him!'Struth, it is a fine young fellow!And the girl with hair so yellow, With the body slim and slender, Eyes so blue and bloom so tender!She that gave us such a pennyAs shall buy us sweetmeats many, Hunting-knife and sheath of leather, Flute and fife to play together, Scrannel pipe and cudgel beechen. I pray God leech him!" {48} _Here they speak and tell the story_. When Aucassin heard the shepherd boys, he minded him of Nicolette hismost sweet friend whom he loved so well; and he bethought him that shehad been there. And he pricked his horse with the spurs, and came to theshepherd boys. "Fair children, may God help you!" "May God bless you!" said he who was more ready of speech than theothers. "Fair children, " said he, "say again the song that you were saying justnow!" "We will not say it, " said he who was more ready of speech than theothers. "Sorrow be his who sings it for you, fair sir!" "Fair children, " said Aucassin, "do you not know me?" "Aye, we know well that you are Aucassin, our young lord; but we are notyour men, but the Count's. " "Fair children, you will do so, I pray you!" "Hear, by gog's heart!" said he. "And why should I sing for you, an itsuit me not? When there is no man in this land so rich, saving CountWarren's self, who finding my oxen or my cows or my sheep in his pasturesor in his crops, would dare to chase them from it, for fear of having hiseyes put out. And why should I sing for you, an it suit me not?" "So God help you, fair children, you will do so! And take ten sous whichI have here in a purse!" "Sir, the pence will we take, but I will not sing to you, for I havesworn it. But I will tell it to you, if you will. " "I' God's name!" said Aucassin; "I had liefer telling than nothing. " "Sir, we were here just now, between Prime and Tierce, and were eatingour bread at this spring, even as we are doing now. And a maiden camehere, the most beautiful thing in the world, so that we deemed it was afay, and all the wood lightened with her. And she gave us of what washers, so that we covenanted with her, if you came here, we would tell youthat you are to go a-hunting in this forest. There is a beast therewhich, could you catch it, you would not give one of its limbs for fivehundred marks of silver, nor for any wealth. For the beast has such amedicine that if you can catch it you will be cured of your hurt. Aye, and within three days must you have caught it, and if you have not caughtit, never more will you see it. Now hunt it an you will, or an you willleave it; for I have well acquitted myself towards her. " "Fair children, " said Aucassin, "enough have you said; and God grant meto find it!" _Here they sing_. Aucassin has word for wordOf his lithe-limbed lady heard;Deep they pierced him to the quick;From the herds he parted quick, Struck into the greenwood thick. Quickly stepped his gallant steed, Bore him fairly off full speed. Then he spake, three words he said:"Nicolette, O lithe-limbed maid!For your sake I thrid the glade!Stag nor boar I now pursue, But the sleuth I track for you!Your bright eyes and body lithe, Your sweet words and laughter blithe, Wounded have my heart to death. So God, the strong Father will, I shall look upon you still, Sister, sweet friend!" _Here they speak and tell the story_. Aucassin went through the forest this way and that way, and his goodsteed carried him a great pace. Think not that the briars and thornsspared him! Not a whit! Nay they tore his clothes so, that 'twere hardwork to have patched them together again; and the blood flowed from hisarms and his sides and his legs in forty places or thirty; so that onecould have followed the boy by the trace of the blood that fell upon thegrass. But he thought so much on Nicolette, his sweet friend, that hefelt neither hurt nor pain. All day long he rode through the forest, butso it was that he never heard news of her. And, when he saw that eveningdrew on, he began to weep because he found her not. He was riding down an old grassy road, when he looked before him in theway and saw a boy, and I will tell you what he was like. He was tall ofstature and wonderful to see, so ugly and hideous. He had a monstrousshock-head black as coal, and there was more than a full palm-breadthbetween his two eyes; and he had great cheeks, and an immense flat nose, with great wide nostrils, and thick lips redder than a roast, and greatugly yellow teeth. He was shod in leggings and shoes of ox-hide, lacedwith bast to above the knee; and was wrapped in a cloak which seemedinside out either way on, and was leaning on a great club. Aucassinsprang to meet him, and was terrified at the nearer sight of him. "Fair brother, may God help you!" "May God bless you!" said he. "So God help you, what do you there?" "What matters it to you?" said he. "Nothing"; said Aucassin; "I ask not for any ill reason. " "But wherefore are you weeping, " said he, "and making such sorrow? I'faith, were I as rich a man as you are, all the world would not make meweep!" "Bah! Do you know me?" said Aucassin. "Aye. I know well that you are Aucassin the son of the Count; and if youtell me wherefore you are weeping I will tell you what I am doing here. " "Certes, " said Aucassin, "I will tell you right willingly. I came thismorning to hunt in this forest; and I had a white greyhound, the fairestin the world, and I have lost it; 'tis for this I am weeping. " "Hear him!" said he, "by the blessed heart! and you wept for a stinkingdog! Sorrow be his who ever again hold you in account! Why there is noman in this land so rich, of whom if your father asked ten, or fifteen, or twenty, he would not give them only too willingly, and be only tooglad. Nay, 'tis I should weep and make sorrow. " "And wherefore you, brother?" "Sir, I will tell you. I was hireling to a rich farmer, and drove hisplough--four oxen there were. Three days since a great misfortune befellme. I lost the best of my oxen, Roget, the best of my team; and I havebeen in search of it ever since. I have neither eaten nor drunk thesethree days past; and I dare not go into the town, as they would put me inprison, since I have not wherewith to pay for it. Worldly goods have Inone worth ought but what you see on the body of me. I have a mother, poor woman, who had nothing worth ought save one poor mattress, and thisthey have dragged from under her back, so that she lies on the barestraw; and for her I am troubled a deal more than for myself. For wealthcomes and goes; if I have lost now I shall gain another time, and I shallpay for my ox when I can; nor will I ever weep for an ox. And you weptfor a dog of the dunghill! Sorrow be his who ever again hold you inaccount!" "Certes, you are of good comfort, fair brother! Bless you for it! Andwhat was thine ox worth?" "Sir, it is twenty sous they ask me for it; I cannot abate a singlefarthing. " "Here, " said Aucassin, "take these twenty which I have in my purse, andpay for thine ox!" "Sir, " said he, "Gramercy! And may God grant you to find that which youseek!" He took leave of him; and Aucassin rode on. The night was fine andstill; and he went on till he came to the place where the seven roadsdivide, and there before him he saw the bower which Nicolette had made, bedecked within and without and over and in front with flowers, and sopretty that prettier could not be. When Aucassin perceived it, he drewrein all in a moment; and the light of the moon smote within it. "Ah, Heaven!" said Aucassin, "here has Nicolette been, my sweet friend;and this did she make with her beautiful hands! For the sweetness ofher, and for her love, I will now alight here, and rest me there thisnight through. " He put his foot out of the stirrup to alight. His horse was big andhigh; and he was thinking so much on Nicolette, his most sweet friend, that he fell on a stone so hard that his shoulder flew out of place. Hefelt that he was badly hurt; but he bestirred him the best he could, andtied his horse up with his other hand to a thorn; and he turned over onhis side, so that he got into the bower on his back. And he lookedthrough a chink in the bower, and saw the stars in the sky; and he sawone there brighter than the rest, and he began to say: _Here they sing_. "Little star, I see thee there, That the moon draws close to her!Nicolette is with thee there, My love of the golden hair. God, I trow, wants her in HeavenTo become the lamp of even. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . {57} Whatsoe'er the fall might be, Would I were aloft with thee!Straitly I would kiss thee there. Though a monarch's son I were, Yet would you befit me fair, Sister, sweet friend!" _Here they speak and tell the story_. When Nicolette heard Aucassin she came to him, for she was not far off. She came into the bower, and threw her arms round his neck, and kissedand caressed him. "Fair sweet friend, well be you met!" "And you, fair sweet friend, be you the well met!" They kissed and caressed each other, and their joy was beautiful. "Ah, sweet friend!" said Aucassin, "I was but now sore hurt in myshoulder; and now I feel neither hurt nor pain since I have you!" She felt about, and found that he had his shoulder out of place. Sheplied it so with her white hands, and achieved (as God willed, who lovethlovers) that it came again into place. And then she took flowers andfresh grass and green leaves, and bound them on with the lappet of hersmock, and he was quite healed. "Aucassin, " said she, "fair sweet friend, take counsel what you will do!If your father makes them search this forest to-morrow, and they findme--whatever may become of you, they will kill me!" "Certes, fair sweet friend, I should be much grieved at that! But, an Ibe able, they shall never have hold of you!" He mounted on his horse, and took his love in front of him, kissing andcaressing her; and they set out into the open fields. _Here they sing_. Aucassin, the boon, the blond, High-born youth and lover fond, Rode from out the deep forest;In his arms his love he pressed, 'Fore him on the saddle-bow;Kisses her on eyes and brow, On her mouth and on her chin. Then to him did she begin: "Aucassin, fair lover sweet, To what land are we to fleet?" "Sweet my sweetheart, what know I?Nought to me 'tis where we fly, In greenwood or utter way, So I am with you alway!" So they pass by dale and down, By the burgh and by the town, At daybreak the sea did reach, And alighted on the beach 'Longside the strand. _Here they speak and tell the story_. Aucassin had alighted, he and his love together, as you have harkened andheard. He held his horse by the bridle and his love by the hand, andthey began to go along the shore; and they went on till Aucassin descriedsome merchants who were in a ship sailing near the shore. He beckoned tothem and they came to him; and he dealt with them so that they took himinto their ship. And when they were on the high sea a storm arose, greatand wonderful, which carried them from land to land, till they arrived ata foreign land, and entered the port of the castle of Torelore. Thenthey asked what land it was; and they told them that it was the land ofthe king of Torelore. Then he asked, Who was he, and was there war? Andthey told him: "Yes, great war. " He took leave of the merchants, and they commended him to God. Hemounted his horse, with his sword girt, and his love before him, and wenton till he came to the castle. He asked where the king was, and theytold him that he lay in child-bed. "And where then is his wife?" And they told him that she was with the army, and had taken thither allthe folk of the land. And when Aucassin heard it, he thought it a verystrange thing; and he came to the palace, and alighted, he and his lovetogether. And she held his horse, and he went up to the palace, with hissword girt; and went on till he came to the room where the king lay a-bed. _Here they sing_. Aucassin the room ent'red, He the courteous, the high-bred, And went straight up to the bed, On the which the king was laid. Right in front of him he stayed, And so spake, hear what he said:"Go to, fool! What dost thou there?"Quoth the king: "A son I bear. Soon as is my month fulfilled, And I am quite whole and healed, Then shall I the mass go hear, As my ancestor did ere, And my great war to maintain'Gainst mine enemies again. I will not leave it!" {62} _Here they speak and tell the story_. When Aucassin heard the king speak thus, he took all the clothes whichwere on him, and flung them down the room. He saw behind him a stick. Hetook it, and turned and struck him, and beat him so that he was like tohave killed him. "Ah, fair sir!" said the king, "what is it you ask of me? Have you yourwits distraught, you who beat me in my own house?" "By the heart of God, " said Aucassin, "you whoreson knave, I will killyou unless you give me your word that never more shall any man in yourland lie in child-bed!" He gave him his word; and when he had given it, "Sir, " said Aucassin, "now take me where your wife is with the army!" "Sir, right willingly!" said the king. He mounted a horse, and Aucassin mounted his; and Nicolette remained inthe queen's chambers. And the king and Aucassin rode till they camewhere the queen was; and they found it a battle of crab-apples roasted, and eggs, and fresh cheeses. And Aucassin began to gaze at them, and hewondered very hard. _Here they sing_. Aucassin has stayed him so, Elbow-propped on saddle-bow, And began a-gazing atThis tremendous pitched combat. They had brought with them theretoStore of cheeses enow new, Wild crab-apples roasted through, And of great field-mushrooms too. He who best disturbs the fordsIs proclaimed the chief of lords. Aucassin, the gallant knight, 'Gan a-gazing at the sight, And fell a-laughing. _Here they speak and tell the story_. When Aucassin saw this strange thing, he came to the king and accostedhim: "Sir, " said Aucassin, "are these your enemies?" "Yes, sir, " said the king. "And would you that I should avenge you of them?" "Yes, " said he, "willingly. " And Aucassin put his hand to his sword, and dashed in among them, andbegan to strike to right and to left, and killed many of them. And whenthe king saw that he was killing them he took him by the bridle, andsaid, "Ah, fair sir! Do not kill them so!" "How?" said Aucassin. "Do you not wish that I should avenge you?" "Sir, " said the king, "you have done it overmuch. It is not our customto kill one another. " The other side turned to flight; and the king and Aucassin returned tothe Castle of Torelore. And the people of the country bade the kingdrive Aucassin out of his land, and keep Nicolette for his son, since sheseemed in sooth a lady of high degree. And when Nicolette heard it shewas not well-pleased; and she began to say, _Here they sing_. "King of Torelore!" she said, Nicolette the lovely maid, "Fool I seem in your folk's sight!When my sweet friend clips me tight, Smooth and soft for his delight, Then am I at such a school, Ball nor dance nor gay carole, Harp nor viol nor cithole, Nor the pleasures of _nimpole_, {66} Were ought beside it!" _Here they speak and tell the story_. Aucassin was at the Castle of Torelore, and Nicolette his love, in greatcontent and in great delight, for he had with him Nicolette, his sweetfriend whom he loved so well. While he was in such content and in suchdelight, a fleet of Saracens came by sea and attacked the castle and tookit by storm. They took the stuff, and led away men-captives and women-captives. They took Nicolette and Aucassin, and bound Aucassin hand andfoot and threw him into one ship, and Nicolette into another. And therearose a storm at sea which parted them. The ship in which Aucassin waswent drifting over the sea till it arrived at the Castle of Beaucaire. And when the people of the country ran to the wrecking of it, they foundAucassin, and recognised him. When the men of Beaucaire saw their younglord, they made great joy of him; for Aucassin had stayed at the Castleof Torelore full three years, and his father and mother were dead. Theybrought him to the Castle of Beaucaire, and all became his liegemen. Andhe held his land in peace. _Here they sing_. Aucassin did thus repairTo his city of Beaucaire;All the kingdom and countrieHeld in great tranquillity. Swore he by God's majesty, Sorer far is his regretFor bright-favoured NicoletteThan his kinsfolk every one, Though they all were dead and gone. "Sweet my sweetheart, bright of cheer, You to seek I know not where!Never God made that countrie, Overland or oversea, If I thought to light on thee, I'd not fly thither!" _Here they speak and tell the story_. Now we will leave Aucassin, and tell of Nicolette. The ship in whichNicolette was, was the king of Carthage's, and he was her father, and shehad twelve brothers, all princes or kings. When they saw Nicolette sobeautiful, they did her very great honour, and made rejoicing over her;and much they questioned of her who she was; for in sooth she seemed avery noble lady and of high degree. But she could not tell them who shewas; for she had been carried captive as a little child. They sailed till they came beneath the city of Carthage. And whenNicolette saw the walls of the castle, and the country, she recognisedthat it was there she had been brought up and carried captive as a littlechild; yet she was not such a little child but that she knew well thatshe had been daughter to the king of Carthage, and that she had beenbrought up in the city. _Here they sing_. Nicolette, the wise, the brave, Won to land from off the wave;Sees the wharves, the city walls, And the palaces and halls;Then she cries, "Ah! woe is me!Ah, woe worth my high degree!King's daughter of Carthagen, To the Amiral akin!Here me holds a salvage horde!Aucassin, my gentle lord, Wise and worshipful and free, Your sweet love constraineth me, Calleth me and troubleth me!Grant me God the HeavenlyYet to hold you in embrace, And that you should kiss my faceAnd my mouth and all my cheer, My liege lord dear!" _Here they speak and tell the story_. When the king of Carthage heard Nicolette speak thus, he threw his armsround her neck. "Fair sweet friend, " said he, "tell me who you are! Be not afraid ofme!" "Sir, " said she, "I am daughter to the king of Carthage, and was carriedcaptive as a little child, full fifteen years ago. " When they heard her speak thus, they knew well that she said truly; andthey made very great rejoicing over her, and brought her to the palacewith great honour, as a king's daughter. A lord they wished to give her, a king of Paynim; but she had no care to wed. And when she had beenthere full three days or four, she considered with herself by what deviceshe might go to seek Aucassin. She procured a viol and learned to playon it; till one day they wished to marry her to a king, a rich Paynim. Then she stole away in the night, and came to the seaport, and harbouredher at the house of a poor woman on the seashore. And she took a herb, and smeared her head and face with it, so that shewas all black and stained. And she got a coat made, and cloak and shirtand breeches, and attired herself in minstrel guise; and she took herviol, and went to a mariner, and so dealt with him that he took her inhis ship. They set their sail, and sailed over the high sea till theyarrived at the land of Provence. And Nicolette went forth, and took herviol, and went playing through the country, till she came to the Castleof Beaucaire, where Aucassin was. _Here they sing_. At Beaucaire beneath the towerAucassin was one fair hour. Here he sat him on a stair;Round him his proud barons were;Saw the flower and green herb spring, Heard the song-bird sweetly sing;Of his love he thought anew, Nicolette the maiden true, Whom he loved so long a day;Then to tears and sighs gave way. Look you, Nicolette belowDraws her viol, draws her bow;Now she speaks, her tale tells so:"List to me, proud lords arow, Those aloft and those alow!Would it please you hear a wordOf Aucassin, a proud lord, And of Nicolette the bold?Long their love did last and holdTill he sought her in the wold. Then, from Torelore's stronghold, They were haled by heathen horde. Of Aucassin we've no word. Nicolette the maiden boldIs at Carthage the stronghold, Whom her father dear doth holdWho of yonder land is lord. Husband they would her award, Felon king of heathenesse. Nicolette cares not for this, For she loves a lording lad, Aucassin to name he had. By God and His name she vowsNever lord will she espouse, If she have not her true love She's so fain of. " _Here they speak and tell the story_. When Aucassin heard Nicolette speak thus, he was very glad, and he tookher on one side, and asked her, "Fair sweet comrade, " said Aucassin, "know you ought of this Nicolette, of whom you have sung?" "Sir, yes! I know of her as the noblest creature and the gentlest andwisest that ever was born. And she is daughter to the king of Carthage, who took her when Aucassin was taken, and carried her to the city ofCarthage, when he knew surely that she was his daughter, and made verygreat rejoicing over her. And every day they wish to give her for lordone of the highest kings in all Spain. But she would rather let herselfbe hanged or drowned than she would take any of them, were he ever sorich. " "Ah, fair sweet comrade, " said the Count Aucassin, "if you would go backto that land, and would tell her to come and speak to me, I would giveyou of my wealth as much as you should dare ask or take. Know, moreover, that for the love of her I will take no wife, were she of ever so highdegree, but I wait for her; nor will I ever have any wife save her. Andhad I known where to find her I should not now have to seek her. " "Sir, " said she, "if you would do this, I would go to seek her, for yoursake, and for hers, whom I love much. " He sware to her; and then he bade give her twenty pounds. And as shetook leave of him, he fell weeping for the sweetness of Nicolette. Andwhen she saw him weeping, "Sir, " said she, "be not afraid! Since within a little while I willbring her to you in this town, so that you shall see her. " And when Aucassin heard it he was very glad. And she took leave of him, and went into the town to the house of the Viscountess; for the Viscounther godfather was dead. She harboured her there; and spoke with her tillshe confessed her affair to her, and the Viscountess recognised her, andknew surely that it was Nicolette, and that she had brought her up. Andshe made her be washed and bathed, and sojourn there a full eight days. And she took a plant which was called Celandine and anointed herself withit, and she was as beautiful as she had ever been at any time. And sheclad herself in rich silk stuffs, of which the lady had good store, andshe sat her down in the room on a quilted coverlet of cloth-of-silk, andcalled the lady, and told her to go for Aucassin her friend. And she didso. And when she came to the palace she found Aucassin weeping andlamenting for Nicolette his love, because she tarried so long. And thelady accosted him and said: "Aucassin, now make no more lament, but come away with me, and I willshow you the thing in the world you love best, for it is Nicolette, yoursweet friend, who from far land is come to seek you. " And Aucassin wasglad. _Here they sing_. Now when Aucassin did hearOf his bright-of-favour fere, That she had arrived the shore, Glad was he, he ne'er was more. With the dame he went his way, Till the house made stop nor stay. To the chamber went they inWhere sat Nicolette within. When she saw her lover there, Glad she was, so was she ne'er. Towards him to her feet leapt she. Aucassin, when he did see, Both his arms to her he holds, Gently to his bosom folds, Kisses her on eyes and face. So they left him the night's space, Till the morrow's morning-tideAucassin took her to bride, Made her Lady of Beaucaire. Many days they then did fare, And their pleasure did enjoy. Now has Aucassin his joy, Nicolette too the same way. Here endeth our song-and-say; I know no further. PRINTED BYTURNBULL AND SPEARS, EDINBURGH Footnotes: {39} The device of the warder is to give his warning in the guise of an_Aubade_, as if he were merely singing for his own amusement. The_Aubade_, or Watch-song, was a favourite lyrical form in Southern France. It was originally a dialogue between the lover, the lady, and thewatchman who played sentinel, and warned them that the Dawn was coming. {48} This piece of verse is remarkable for the evident intention ofplayfulness in it. All the lines end in a diminutive termination, andall the proper names also; Esmeret, Martinet, Fruelin, Johanet, Aubriet, Aucassinet. It seemed impossible to preserve this playfulness in anydirect way, without sacrifice of literal rendering and without changingthe proper names. I have tried to give a little of it by the use ofdissyllabic rhymes. {57} Three lines are torn away in the original MS. {62} The custom of a husband taking to his bed when his wife has borne achild is a curious superstition well-known to ethnologists and folk-lorestudents. The convenient name of _Couvade_, though originally applied tothis custom by a mistake, has now become recognised, and it seems best toretain it. {66} It is unknown what the game of _Nimpole_ or _Nypollete_ was. Butelsewhere it is coupled with games played on a board, _jeux de tables_, as if of the same nature as draughts or chess.