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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75417 ***
+
+
+
+
+
+  Transcriber’s Note
+  Italic text displayed as: _italic_
+
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF FLAMENCA
+
+
+ THIS, THE FIRST EDITION OF THE STORY OF FLAMENCA, CONSISTS OF SEVEN
+ HUNDRED AND FIFTY COPIES OF WHICH THIS IS NUMBER [handwritten number
+ 660]
+
+[Illustration: FLAMENCA]
+
+
+
+
+  THE STORY OF
+  FLAMENCA:
+  _The First Modern Novel_, Arranged
+  from the Provençal Original
+  of the Thirteenth Century by
+
+  WILLIAM ASPENWALL BRADLEY
+  _With_ WOODCUTS _by_ FLORENCE WYMAN IVINS
+
+  [Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+  PUBLISHED IN NEW YORK : : MCMXXII : : BY
+  HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+  COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY
+  HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC.
+
+
+
+
+TO J. E. SPINGARN
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+The _Roman de Flamenca_ occupies a unique place in Provençal
+literature. “It has,” says Meyer, “nothing in common with the old
+Carolingian and Breton traditions; its subject is not borrowed from the
+legends transmitted by antiquity to the middle ages; nor would it be
+possible to see in it one of those popular narratives which are to be
+found in practically every literature, and whose impersonal character
+renders it impossible to determine their origin. _Flamenca_ is the
+creation of a man of talent who wished to write an agreeable work
+representing the most brilliant aspects of courtly life in the twelfth
+century. It is a novel of manners.”[1] As such it has affinities with
+certain _romans d’aventure_, in the northern idiom, which similarly
+combine a sentimental intrigue with the representation of a particular
+milieu. _Flamenca_, however, is far superior to any of these in its
+delicacy, in its verve, in its richness, in the truthful delineation
+of its characters, and in the bold originality of its conception. Thus
+it stands alone, not only in Provençal literature, but in medieval
+literature generally, and may be called, without exaggeration, the
+first modern novel.
+
+The unique manuscript of _Flamenca_ is incomplete. Among the pages
+missing are the first and last. Hence we have no knowledge of the
+author or of the date of composition. The latter has been placed
+approximately in the first half of the thirteenth century. At that
+time the splendour of the little courts south of the Loire had waned;
+but the poet shows us the largeness and liberality that had reigned
+there, while his lightness of tone reflects that relaxing of the old
+restraints in a sophisticated and pleasure-loving society, which stern
+moralists would, no doubt, hold responsible for the ensuing swift
+decadence. Love was the one real religion of the upper classes, and the
+code of lovers, hardened into a vast, complicated system, constituted
+the sole effective morality. Flamenca and Guillem are characteristic
+products of this system, and its perfect exponents. Their acceptance
+of it is complete. Never does any doubt enter the mind of either as to
+the sovereignty of the rights conferred by mutual love. Both regard
+themselves as accomplishing a sacred duty in going directly—or as
+directly as possible—to the goal of their desire. At the same time,
+there are forms to observe, and our two lovers are so scrupulous in
+their observance that they may occasionally seem engaged much more
+in going through an elaborate ritual than in pursuing dangerously a
+passionate adventure. Yet the danger was there, and Flamenca never
+forgets that if, in a sense, she is playing a game, it is a game the
+stake of which is death.
+
+In my version I have stressed the realistic elements in order to bring
+the story into closer harmony with modern sentiment. Nor is this the
+only liberty I have taken. If _Flamenca’s_ virtues are its own, its
+defects it shares with nearly all imaginative literature of the middle
+ages. It is inordinately long and lacking in a sense of proportion.
+The interest is not sustained throughout and, after the meeting of
+the lovers, ceases entirely. Accounts of banquets and fêtes are
+interminably protracted, and page after page is filled with ingeniously
+subtile discourses on love. Although the allegorical element does not
+dominate here, as in the _Roman de la Rose_, it begins to rear its head
+obtrusively, and there is a marked abuse of dreams and visions. It is
+because of these shortcomings that, despite its charm, it has remained
+relatively unknown. Hence I have not hesitated to operate heroically,
+cutting to the bone in many places, and adding a ligature or two when
+necessary. Some will, no doubt, reproach me with the sacrifice of
+more than one delightful passage; but my purpose throughout has been
+to disengage the story itself, in its main lines, and anything that
+interfered with this has had to go.
+
+Wishing to take counsel of Flamenca in my undertaking, I made a
+pilgrimage last summer to the scene of her suffering and happy release.
+Alas, I found little at Bourbon-l’Archambault, now an obscure thermal
+station of the _Centre_, to remind me of my heroine. There are, indeed,
+on a height dominating the town the romantic ruins of an imposing
+castle which one would willingly accept as her prison; but my guide
+informed me that this fortress was not erected till more than a century
+later, though doubtless it occupies the same site. At the baths, save
+for a few remains from Roman times, nothing goes farther back than
+the seventeenth century, when this was one of the favorite resorts of
+the court. Madame de Montespan is remembered in the name of a hotel
+which, for all I know, replaces the comfortable establishment of the
+complaisant Pierre Gui; but not the slightest construction of any sort
+evokes the memory of the real lady of Bourbon.
+
+It was only when I reached the church, situated on a green knoll
+outside the town, that I touched a little of that remote past. Though
+the venerable edifice has been much restored, parts of it may well
+have been standing in Flamenca’s time. The interior is degraded by the
+grossest modern polychroming, but I remarked certain capitals which
+belong to the earliest period of Gothic sculpture. One, representing
+gnome-like musicians playing curious instruments, wind and string,
+brought irresistibly back the description of Flamenca’s wedding feast,
+when “harpers harped, fifers fifed ... and all performed so well that
+a great uproar reigned in the hall.” Placing myself in the choir, as
+nearly as possible where, it seemed to me, Guillem must have stood when
+he heard mass there for the first time, I too waited for Flamenca
+to appear. It was, no doubt, one of those lesser feasts, “for which
+Flamenca would no more have set foot out of doors than for that of a
+simple martyr not in the calendar”; for I waited in vain. Never a glint
+of her golden hair crossed the threshold. So I was obliged to leave
+Bourbon-l’Archambault no richer than I had gone there, and finish my
+little book without her aid.
+
+  W. A. B.
+
+ Paris, May, 1922.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[1] _Le Roman de Flamenca_, publié d’après le manuscrit unique de
+Carcassonne, traduit et accompagné d’un glossaire, par Paul Meyer.
+Paris, 1865.
+
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF FLAMENCA
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Man and woman in vines]
+
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF FLAMENCA
+
+
+I
+
+Count Guy of Nemours had a daughter, Flamenca, whose beauty was such
+that the fame of it passed into every land, and all who heard thereof
+would fain have her for wife. Many sent messengers to make their suit:
+knights, nobles, and even the Slav king, who offered to ally himself
+with the count and aid him against his enemies.
+
+But Guy, who loved his daughter, did not wish her to depart so far
+thence.
+
+“I would rather,” he said, “she were a simple chatelaine, and see her
+each week or month or even year, than a queen and lose her forever.”
+
+Thus, in the end, he made choice of Archambaut, lord of Bourbon, whose
+friendship he had long sought, and than whom no better knight girded on
+sword from there to the end of the world
+
+Now when Archambaut heard these tidings, how the count would have him
+for son, and none other; and when he learned, too, from his messengers,
+that the hundredth part had not been told him of the damsel’s beauty,
+he rejoiced greatly and set out with a fair following of one hundred
+knights and four hundred squires, all mounted, for Nemours.
+
+He arrived there three days before the time appointed for his wedding,
+and when he saw Flamenca he felt his heart inflamed, all flooded over
+with a sweet amorous fire. Trembling without, he burned within; and
+though that of which he suffered was not a fever, yet might it have
+proved fatal, had he not found for it a speedy cure.
+
+Three nights he did not sleep, and Sunday morning he was already clad
+and shod betimes when the count, entering his room, gave him good
+morrow from Flamenca.
+
+“Come,” he said, “if you would see the damsel in her bower.”
+
+Then he took Archambaut by the hand, and led him to Flamenca, who was
+no whit confused, but only a little blushing.
+
+“Here is your bride, lord Archambaut,” said the count. “Take her if you
+will.”
+
+“Sir,” he answered, “if there be no hindrance in her, never took I
+aught so willingly.”
+
+Then the damsel, smiling, said to her father:
+
+“Sir, you show clearly you hold me in your power, who dispose of me so
+lightly. But, since it is your will, I consent.”
+
+At this word, “consent,” Archambaut felt such joy that he could not
+keep from taking her hand and pressing it.
+
+Thereupon they departed. Archambaut knew right well with whom he had
+left the heart he bore not back with him again. Without once quitting
+the damsel with his eyes, he drew towards the door, where he bade her
+farewell. Nor was Flamenca disdainful, but smiled at him and repeated
+graciously: “God keep you.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Five bishops and ten abbotts, in their robes, awaited them in the
+church, to marry them. When they had done this and said mass, all went
+to partake of the feast that had been prepared. Lord Archambaut and
+the count served at this feast; but the eyes of the first wandered oft
+to where his heart was, and, could he have had his way, he would have
+bidden the guests arise from the table before they had half fed.
+
+When the feast was finished and the table was cleared, the jongleurs
+began. Some sang, others played. All this was a sore trial for lord
+Archambaut and, had not the night made him amends, I think that neither
+by food nor by drink, would his life ever have been restored.
+
+The feast lasted more than eight days. Lord Archambaut was happy, for
+he now had what he most desired, nor was he beset by other care than to
+serve her whom he wished to honor and please. Had it not been for manly
+shame which restrained him, he would fain have tired her and handed her
+himself her gown, her comb, and her mirror.
+
+When, at length, he saw the feast was drawing to a close, and it would
+ill beseem him to stay longer, he took his leave and set out straight
+for Bourbon, to prepare his own feast, which he wished to make of such
+surpassing splendour that the other would no longer be spoken of.
+
+He sent messengers to the king of France, pressing him to come and
+bring his queen with him. He bade them say to the king that, if he
+would deign to pass by Nemours, and lead with him the lady Flamenca, he
+would be his forever.
+
+Then Archambaut caused the city to be decked, and the streets hung with
+banners and fine tapestries, with silk and with samite. Gold, silver,
+clothes, and all things else were, by his order, brought together to be
+given freely to whoever might deign to accept them.
+
+Five hundred suits of raiment, of purple and fine gold, a thousand
+lances and a thousand shields, a thousand spears and a thousand coats
+of mail, were made ready in the armory, and a thousand steeds were held
+waiting in their stalls, for those whom lord Archambaut would make
+knights.
+
+The king came with a great array, and led Flamenca with him. More than
+six leagues, more than seven, reached the great company; and, before
+all the rest, rode the count’s son, Flamenca’s brother. For he wished
+to be the first to greet Archambaut, who rode forth to the encounter
+right well attended with a thousand knights, a thousand burghers, and a
+thousand varlets.
+
+Each welcomed the king and besought him to lodge with him. He refused
+saying:
+
+“You press me in vain, for I have the lady Flamenca in my keeping; but
+my barons will gladly make their abode with you.”
+
+So, at the end, all were lodged, and no man kept his door closed. The
+queen had a good pavillion, and Flamenca was her neighbour.
+
+At the ninth hour all went to meat, and took with them good appetites.
+Fish of every sort was served, and whatever else is fitting for
+fast-days, including the fruits that are in season in the month of
+June, both pears and cherries. The king sent a present of two pieces of
+agate to Flamenca, who thanked him graciously when the repast was over.
+
+The next day was the feast of Saint John, and it was not permitted to
+pass without due observance. The bishop of Cleremont said high mass
+and preached a sermon on Our Lord, how He loved Saint John so well He
+called him more than prophet. Then a herald proclaimed, in the king’s
+name, that none should leave the court before a fortnight, for any
+reason, however weighty.
+
+When they had heard mass, the king spoke with Flamenca, and led her
+from the church. After him followed full three thousand knights, each
+leading a lady.
+
+Together they went to the great hall where the feast was spread. When
+they had washed their hands, they were seated, not on bare benches, but
+on cushions covered with cloth; and the napkins on which they dried
+their hands were not coarse and rough, but fine and soft to the touch.
+
+The guests were served with all manner of meats. Each had what he most
+liked, and so much that he who had least had no reason to envy him who
+had more. Yet there were above five hundred who gazed with wonder upon
+Flamenca and who, while they fed their eyes upon her fair face, let
+their mouths go hungry.
+
+No one there could compare with Flamenca. For, just as the sun is
+supreme by virtue of his splendour, so did she take rank above all
+the other ladies by reason of her beauty. Her color was so fresh, her
+look so gentle and gracious, her discourse so wise and so witty, that
+the noblest and liveliest among them remained as if dumb and deeming
+herself vanquished. They said that one would strive in vain to appear
+beautiful by the side of this lady. And, when they praised her, you may
+believe she was indeed fair; for, in all the world, there are not three
+to whom the others will accord beauty, and praise it.
+
+When all had eaten they again washed their hands, but remained seated
+where they were, and partook of the wine; for such was the custom
+in those days. The cloths being removed, great mirrors—those good
+counsellors!—were brought and placed on tall standards before the
+guests, so that each might arrange his dress according to his liking.
+Then the jongleurs arose, each wishing to make himself heard.
+
+He who knew a new piece for the viol, a song, a lai, or a descant, did
+his best to prevail above the others. Harpers harped, fifers fifed.
+Some sang the words, while their fellows played the notes. Both did
+their best and all performed so well that a great uproar reigned in the
+hall.
+
+Then the king said:
+
+“Sir knights, when the squires have eaten, cause your steeds to be
+saddled, and we shall go to the jousting. While we wait, I would have
+the queen lead one dance with Flamenca, and I too will dance, with the
+others.”
+
+Thereupon knights, ladies, and damsels took one another by the hand.
+Never, in France or in Brittany, had been seen a dance so splendid.
+Two hundred jongleurs, good players of the viol, took their places in
+pairs on the benches, and ran the sets without missing a note.
+
+Now the squires had saddled and decked and led around the chargers.
+When these were seen, the dancing ceased, for never was so brave a
+sight. Each knight had his squire bring him his arms. Nor did the
+ladies depart thence, but stayed and found for themselves places in the
+windows to look out upon those who battled for their sake.
+
+As for lord Archambaut, he lost no time but, with his own hand, dubbed
+nine hundred and ninety-seven knights, who went forthwith on foot to
+the palace in silken shoon and presented themselves to the king. He,
+for handsel, gave them this wish, that they should suffer no greater
+pain than love might give them. And the queen said likewise.
+
+This day the king himself bore arms. At the tip of his lance he had
+fastened a sleeve. The queen gave no sign that she was displeased by
+this token, but she said to herself that, if she knew who had given it
+to the king, she would make her rue the favor she had bestowed. In her
+heart she believed it was Flamenca and sent for lord Archambaut, who
+presented himself fully armed before her.
+
+“My lord,” said she, taking him by the hand and seating him beside her
+in the window, “I am ill at ease and need your counsel.”
+
+“Your highness,” returned he, “may God keep you.”
+
+Then the queen, touching Flamenca, seated nearbye, said:
+
+“My lady, I would speak alone with lord Archambaut.”
+
+“Willingly, madam, since you wish it,” replied Flamenca.
+
+At the next window sat the countess of Nevers who, when she saw
+Flamenca draw near, greeted her and made her a cushion of her own
+mantle. Flamenca, thanking her, sat down beside her, and looked out
+upon the jousting.
+
+The queen lost no time but broke forth in bitter rage:
+
+“My lord Archambaut, is it not most unseemly for the king to wear thus,
+beneath my very eyes, an amorous devise? Methinks it is an affront to
+you, no less than to me.”
+
+Archambaut saw clearly that she suspected Flamenca of having given the
+sleeve to the king.
+
+“By Christ, my lady,” he hastened to answer, “I can not see that the
+king dishonours either you or me in thus bearing the badge of love.
+With him it is but knightly duty.”
+
+“My lord, that is an excuse of which you yourself will have good need
+before another fortnight be past.”
+
+“Nay, madam, seek not to make me jealous where there is no need.”
+
+“Do you think then,” demanded the queen, frowning, “that you too will
+not feel the pangs of jealousy? By my faith, that you shall, and not,
+perchance, without good cause.”
+
+At that moment a jongleur drew near Archambaut and addressed him,
+saying:
+
+“Sir, the king desires to bestow arms upon Thibaut, count of Blois, and
+I come from Thibaut himself, who prays you to join him.”
+
+Lord Archambaut took his leave of the queen more troubled than he
+let her see. He was, indeed, in a bad humour because of what she had
+said; and, when he had seen Thibaut and more than four hundred others
+knighted by the king, he summoned his squire:
+
+“Have the bells rung for vespers,” he ordered. “It will be time to sup
+when the king has heard them.”
+
+When the ladies, seated at the windows, heard the bells, they cried:
+
+“Why, it is not yet none, and already they are ringing vespers! May
+she lose her husband who stirs a step while yet one knight is left in
+the lists! Never shall I leave the tiltyard for vespers!”
+
+The king entered at that moment and, going graciously up to Flamenca,
+led her away. The barons followed him and led the ladies to church.
+When the office was ended, the king brought Flamenca back and playfully
+placed his hand upon her breast.
+
+The queen was very wroth at this, and lord Archambaut also, though he
+gave no sign.
+
+Then they supped. The tables were furnished with roast meats, with
+fruits, with fresh roses and violets, and with snow and ice to cool
+the wine, that it might not banish sleep. All were tired with the
+diversions of this day, and soon went to seek repose till the morrow.
+
+The next morning, at daybreak, the newmade knights, clad in their gear,
+rode through the streets, ringing bells of every sort. They made a
+fine hubbub, and Archambaut’s trouble grew as he heard it. In his
+heart was such grief he was like to die thereof. Yet he sought to hold
+himself in leash, blaming the queen for the suspicions she had sown in
+his breast, and concealing his feelings from the others.
+
+Nineteen days the feast lasted, and all marvelled whence Archambaut
+could draw the great treasure he gave in largesse. On the twentieth
+day the king and queen took their departure; for the queen did not
+wish the feast to last the full month, now that she believed the king
+to be in love with Flamenca; but the king did not love with real love,
+and thought only to honor lord Archambaut when, in the presence of his
+host, he embraced Flamenca, and kissed her.
+
+Archambaut set his guests upon their way right courteously, but his
+heart was gnawed by sharp jealous pangs. As he rode back, he raved
+wildly and, when he had returned, his companions left him, thinking he
+had lost his senses. Alone, he cried:
+
+“Alas, of what was I thinking when I took unto myself a wife! Good God,
+I was mad. Had I not everything I needed to make me happy? A curse on
+my friends and family who counselled me that which is ever for men a
+source of sorrow. Now, indeed, I have a wife; but much good does she do
+me, who consumes me with jealousy.”
+
+Lord Archambaut was in an evil case. Leaving all his affairs in
+disorder, he made great dole when anyone came to the castle, and could
+hardly keep from throwing him out head-first. In every visitor he
+feared a rival. If one so much as spoke to his wife, he thought to see
+her ravished before his eyes.
+
+“That is how all this came to pass. The king chose well his moment.
+Even before they left Nemours I believe he essayed her. I thought I
+had naught to fear from him, or I should have known how to guard her
+against his devices. Now as many as wish can come and go, and there
+are never enough for her liking.
+
+“Mark the welcome she gives them! She shows clearly she is no longer
+mine. Alas, unhappy wretch that I am! Cursed be the hour wherein I was
+born! The queen knew well what she was saying, when she told me I would
+be jealous. Curses on her, too, prophetess of evil!”
+
+Then he broke into a great rage, tearing his hair, biting his lips,
+gnashing his teeth, and glaring fiercely at Flamenca. Scarce could he
+keep from cutting off her gleaming golden tresses.
+
+“My lord, what ails you?” she asked him.
+
+“What! Christ! I die, and you mock me! This is the work of these brave
+gallants who come to see you; but, by my faith, they will no longer
+find the way open to you. He who takes a wife has his trouble for
+naught if he put her not in some safe place and keep guard over her.
+This shall I do. The tower is high, the wall is wide, and here you
+shall stay with only your damsels to keep you company.”
+
+He delayed not, but, sending for a mason, led him straight to
+Flamenca’s tower. There he ordered him to cut a window into the
+kitchen, that her food might be passed through to her, and that he
+himself might spy upon his wife the more easily.
+
+The sweet child now knew not what to do. Her life henceforth was little
+better than death. If her days were bad, her nights were worse, holding
+naught for her but weariness. She had to wait upon her two pretty
+maids, whose sorrows equalled hers, for they too were prisoners. Gentle
+and kind, they did what they could to comfort their mistress, and
+thinking only of the love they bore her, they forgot their own pain.
+The name of one of these damsels was Alis, of the other, Margarida.
+
+God sent great grief unto Flamenca. Many sighs and much agony of heart
+were hers because of her husband, and she shed bitter tears, being
+filled with sadness and affliction. Yet one signal mark of grace He
+bestowed upon her that, having no child, He put not love into her
+heart. For, loving, and having naught whereon to nourish her love, she
+would have suffered more sorely.
+
+Long time she lived thus afflicted, never passing the door save on
+Sundays and feast days. Even in church neither knight nor clerk could
+speak with her. For Archambaut kept her ever in a dark corner behind a
+wide screen he had built to the level of her chin. He did not let her
+go to the altar for Communion, but made the priest bring the offering,
+which he gave her himself. A little clerk gave her the pax, and he, at
+least, might have got a glimpse of her, had he but known how to manage
+it.
+
+After the words: _Ite missa est_, Archambaut left without waiting for
+sixte or none.
+
+“Come, come,” he said to the young women, “Let me dine at once. Do not
+keep me waiting.”
+
+He did not even give them time to say their prayers.
+
+Thus passed two years. Every day the poor prisoners saw their pain
+redoubled, while Archambaut swore and groaned and guarded them both
+morning and night.
+
+
+II
+
+Now at this time, while Archambaut was thus jealous and, in all
+Auvergne, songs, sirventes, couplets, and sonnets were made upon him,
+there dwelt in Burgundy a knight whom Nature had delighted to fashion
+and instruct. Nor had she failed in this task, for never has been seen
+a youth so fair of person or of goodlier mien.
+
+He had light curling hair, broad white forehead, dark arching brows,
+black laughing eyes, and nose as straight as the stock of an arbalest.
+His shoulders were broad, his muscles strong. When he jousted, none
+could sustain the shock of his assault. Lifting his foe from the
+saddle, he passed on bearing him at the end of his lance.
+
+He had studied at Paris and learned there so much of the seven arts
+that he could have taught school anywhere. He could both read and
+write, and spoke English better than any clerk. His name was Guillem de
+Nevers.
+
+Guillem was at all points a good knight. He led a fair following to
+the tourney, took captives and made prizes. What he thus won he spent
+and gave away freely in presents. He loved gaming, dogs, falcons—all
+pleasant things, in short, and suited to his estate. One only he
+lacked, and that was any experience of love.
+
+He had read all the poets who treat thereof and instruct lovers. From
+them he had learned that, without love, one could not lead the life
+ordained for noble youth, and often he dreamed of engaging in some high
+adventure that would bring him both pleasure and honour.
+
+Thus it happened that, when Guillem heard how Flamenca was held
+prisoner by her jealous husband, his heart spoke, and said to him that,
+were he but able to speak with her, he might, perchance, enjoy her love.
+
+Long he pondered upon this. Then, one night, Love appearing in a dream,
+urged him to the adventure and made him fair promises. Next day Guillem
+set forth, with his companions, for Bourbon.
+
+Now there were baths at Bourbon in those days, where all could come and
+bathe at their ease. A tablet in each bath made known the properties of
+the water both hot and cold, that sprang from two spouts, and over it
+was built a house, with quiet rooms wherein to take one’s ease.
+
+Of these baths the best were those belonging to Pierre Gui, a right
+honest man who was on terms of amity with lord Archambaut; and when
+Guillem, arriving at Bourbon, demanded where he might lodge, he was
+directed thither.
+
+The goodman, seated at the door of his hostel, seeing the youth
+approach, arose and greeted him graciously, while his wife, Dame
+Bellapila, invited him within and gave him his dinner. When he had
+eaten, Pierre Gui showed him his rooms and gave him free choice among
+them.
+
+Guillem wanted one thing only, which was to be so lodged that he could
+see Flamenca’s tower from his window. When he had found this, he said,
+dissembling:
+
+“This room pleases me, because it is larger than the others, and of a
+more agreeable aspect.”
+
+“As you like,” replied his host. “Here you will be undisturbed, and
+master of all you do. Count Raoul often makes this room his abode when
+he comes to Bourbon; but it is a long time since he has shown himself
+here. For our master, who was so good a knight, is sadly changed. Since
+he took him a wife, he has not laced helm or donned hauberk, and he
+holds the world as naught. I doubt not, however, you have heard these
+things reported of him.”
+
+“I have, indeed, heard them spoken of,” replied Guillem, “but I have
+far other concerns. I suffer from a sore ailment, and if the waters
+here heal me not, I know not what I shall do to be cured.”
+
+“Rest assured as to that, fair sir,” answered Pierre Gui. “Know that no
+one, however sick, comes to our baths without going away cured, if only
+he stay long enough.”
+
+The room was large and clean and well furnished. There wanted neither
+bed nor hearth nor aught else for comfort. Guillem caused all his
+belongings to be brought and placed therein. Then, when his host had
+retired, he dismissed his squires, instructing them to let none know
+his name, saying simply that he was from Besançon.
+
+It was the night after Easter, the season when the nightingale accuses
+with his songs those who have no care of love. One sang in the grove
+near Guillem’s window, and the young man could not close his eyes,
+though his couch was white and soft and wide.
+
+“Ah Love,” he sighed, “what will become of me? At your behest, leaving
+my own people, I have come into this country a pilgrim, a stranger.
+Sighing without cease, I suffer from a desire that has taken fast hold
+of my heart. I feign sickness now, it is true; but I shall need to
+feign it no longer, if I am not soon cured of this ill.”
+
+Then, as day was beginning to break, and his bed brought him no repose,
+he arose, crossed himself, and prayed to Saint Blaise, Saint Martin,
+Saint George, Saint Genies, and five or six other saints who were
+gentle knights, that they might make intercession for him. Before
+beginning to dress, he opened his window and looked upon the tower
+where his lady languished.
+
+“O lady tower,” he cried, “you are beautiful without and pure and white
+within. Would to God I were inside your walls, so as not to be seen of
+Archambaut, of Margarida, or of Alis!”
+
+So saying, his arms fell, his feet no longer sustained him, his color
+fled, and he fainted. One of his squires, seeing him about to fall,
+seized him, held him close, and bore him to the bed. The squire was
+greatly frightened, for he could not feel the beat of his master’s
+heart. This was because Love had transported his spirit to Flamenca’s
+tower, where Guillem held her in his arms, and caressed her so gently
+she was not aware of it. Then his soul, having had its will, returned
+to his body, which was not long in reviving.
+
+It was clear he had come back from a place full of delight, for he was
+more blithe and beautiful than before. The young squire had wept so
+much that his master’s face was wet with his tears.
+
+“Sir,” he said, drying his eyes, “I have been sore troubled.”
+
+“Ah, my friend,” sighed Guillem, “your concern was occasioned by my
+happiness.”
+
+Clad in breeches and shirt, he took his place once more in the window,
+throwing over his shoulders a mantle of vair trimmed with gris. The
+tower stood to the right, and naught could turn Guillem from it, while
+putting on his shoes—elegant buskins fashioned at Douai.
+
+He called for his ewer. Then, when he had washed, he laced up his
+sleeves with a silver bodkin. Over all he passed a cape of black silk,
+and studied carefully the figure he made.
+
+As he was thus occupied, his host entered to lead him to the church.
+There Guillem, kneeling at the altar of Saint Clement, prayed devoutly
+to God, as also to Mary, to Michael, and to all the saints, to aid him.
+Then, taking a psalter, he opened it. Straight way he came upon a verse
+which filled him with delight: “Dilexi quoniam.”
+
+“God knows well what I desire,” he exclaimed, closing the book. He made
+careful note of the place where his lady would sit, and prayed that
+naught might keep her from coming.
+
+When it was time for mass, Guillem took his place, with his host, in
+the choir, where he could look out through a little opening, without
+being seen. His heart beat loudly as he awaited the arrival of
+Flamenca; and, at each shadow that fell across the doorway, he thought
+Archambaut was about to enter.
+
+Everyone else had arrived, and the third bell had rung, when the
+jealous husband, uncouth and unkempt, entered the church. Beside him,
+but keeping well her distance, for it was clear he filled her with
+disgust, came Flamenca.
+
+She paused an instant on the threshold, to make her reverence, and
+then it was, for the first time, that Guillem saw his lady. He ceased
+to gaze upon her only when she passed behind her screen. Then he knelt
+with the others.
+
+“Asperges me,” proclaimed the priest. Guillem took up the response at
+the “Domine,” and sang it clear through. Never before had it been so
+well sung in that church.
+
+The priest left the choir, followed by a clerk bearing the holy water.
+When he came to Flamenca, he did his best to spray her across the
+screen, and she uncovered a little her hair, where it was parted in
+the middle, the better to receive the water on her forehead. Her skin
+showed white and fine, and the golden crown of her hair, where the
+sun chanced to strike it with one of his rays, at that instant, shone
+resplendent. At the sight of this splendid sample of what love held
+in store for him, Guillem trembled with joy, and intoned the “Signum
+salutis.”
+
+The priest then returned to the altar and said the “Confiteor,” with
+his little clerk. At the Evangel, Flamenca arose. At first a burgher,
+to Guillem’s disgust, stood in front of her; but God willed him to move
+to one side, that she might be seen unobscured. To cross herself, she
+lowered a little the band which covered her mouth and chin, and with
+one finger loosened the latchets of her mantle. Guillem gazed at her
+bare hand which seemed to steal his heart from his breast and bear it
+away. The emotion which seized him was so strong that he was like to
+faint of it.
+
+By good fortune, he found at his feet a stool on which to kneel, as if
+in prayer. He stayed thus, quite still, till the little clerk gave him
+the pax. When, in her turn, Flamenca kissed the breviary, Guillem saw,
+for a moment, her red mouth, and the sight filled him with sweet joy.
+
+When the clerk had finished giving the pax, Guillem considered how he
+might gain possession of the book.
+
+“My friend,” he whispered to the clerk, “have you a calendar? I wish to
+learn on what day falls Pentecost.”
+
+The youth handed him the book, but Guillem gave small heed to the day
+of the month or the year. He turned the leaves from end to end, and
+would fain have kissed them all for the sake of one, could he have done
+so without being remarked.
+
+“Clerk,” he asked, “where is it that you give the pax? Is it not in the
+psalter?”
+
+“Here is the place, sir,” the clerk answered, and showed it to Guillem
+who, kneeling again as if in prayer, kissed the page more than a
+thousand times, and did not cease from his devotions till the priest
+had said: “Ite missa.”
+
+Archambaut left the church without delay, forcing Flamenca to follow
+with her damsels. Guillem waited for the priest to finish none, then
+addressed him courteously:
+
+“Sir,” he said, “I demand a boon. Dine with me today at my hostel, and
+hereafter, as long as I stay, be my guest at table.”
+
+The priest consented gladly, and all three repaired at once to the
+hostel, where dinner awaited them.
+
+When they had finished and the table was cleared, Guillem sent one
+of his squires to fetch the gifts he had designed for his host and
+hostess. To the former he gave a long belt with a buckle of French
+make, worth more than a silver mark; to the latter, a piece of stuff
+to fashion a summer mantle. So grateful were they for these gifts that
+they promised to do all in their power to serve Guillem. They even
+offered to move out of their house and leave it all to him, should he
+so desire.
+
+He accepted gladly. Then, turning to the priest, Dom Justin, he said:
+“I ask you now to cut the hair from the top of my head, and make me a
+tonsure such as I had before. I am a canon of Péronne, and would return
+now to that estate.”
+
+The priest could scarce answer at first, so surprised was he at
+Guillem’s request; but, while the others wept to see the young man
+thus despoiled of his golden crown, the little clerk, whose name was
+Nicholas, held the basin, and Dom Justin shore off the locks with sharp
+shears, clipping the hair close about the neck, and making a large
+tonsure.
+
+Guillem gave the priest a gilded goblet, worth four marks, as his
+reward.
+
+“The barber,” said he, “must be well paid.”
+
+“My lord, it is too much!” protested the priest. “Tell me what I can do
+to merit more fully so rich a gift.”
+
+“Take me for your clerk,” said Guillem. “As for Nicholas, here, send
+him to Paris to study. He is not yet too old, and he will learn more in
+two years there than here in three. I will give him four golden marks a
+year, and furnish him with raiment.”
+
+“My lord, blessed be the day we first met,” cried the priest. “Nothing
+has so pained me as to see my nephew losing time precious for his
+studies. Already he can write and make verses, and when he has studied
+two years he will know twice as much. As for your request, you shall be
+master, and I will do all you desire.”
+
+“Nay,” exclaimed Guillem hastily, “you must give me your promise to
+treat me in all ways as your little clerk. Else I shall fail of my
+purpose, which is to serve humbly both you and God at the same time.”
+
+Then he instructed the priest to have fashioned for him a large round
+cape of brown silk or garbardine, which should cover him from head to
+foot.
+
+“I no longer wish to follow the fêtes of the court,” he said, “for all
+that is but derision and vain smoke; and he who thinks to have gained
+most from it, finds himself poorest when night falls.”
+
+Thus preached Isengrin. Had the priest been wilier he might have said,
+with Renard: “You are hiding your real game.” But he suspected nothing,
+and went out with the squires to order the cape.
+
+Next morning, after mass, Guillem went to the baths. There he examined
+carefully the soil, and found it was of tufa so soft he could cut it
+with a knife. That very afternoon, when his hosts had moved out, he
+sent to Chatillon secretly for some laborers.
+
+Saturday Nicholas left, and Guillem assisted at vespers. At first he
+held his cape a little high, for he was forever placing his hand upon
+his hip, as had been his habit; but he played his part well, and Dom
+Justin was overjoyed at having such a clerk sent him by heaven.
+
+After vespers Guillem went over with the priest the lessons and
+responses for the next morning.
+
+That night he did not sleep. At the first stroke of the bell for
+matins, he arose and ran to the church, where, seizing the rope from
+the hands of the priest, he finished ringing lustily.
+
+After matins Dom Justin told Guillem he might rest a little, and led
+him to a room, next the belfry, which had belonged to Nicholas; but,
+though the floor was strewn with reeds and rushes, he could not close
+his eyes, for now a new care assailed him. What should he say to his
+lady, when he gave her the pax?
+
+Long he lay and pondered, calling on Love to aid him at this pass.
+At last, finding naught, he arose and went out, closing the door and
+putting the key on the shelf, whence Dom Justin had taken it. Then
+he requested a beadle, one Vidal, to bring him the salt for the holy
+water. While mixing this, the priest awoke, and Guillem gave him some
+of the water to wash. Then they began prime.
+
+When they had sung tierce and rung again, the people began to come for
+mass. After the main body, as usual, arrived Archambaut, followed by
+Flamenca, who passed behind her screen.
+
+Seeing her, Guillem had eyes for naught else. He did not, however,
+neglect his duties. As he had the offices by heart, these were easy for
+him. His voice was fresh and clear, and rang out as he sang the “Agnus
+Dei.” Then he took the book and offered it to his host, who sat in the
+choir. Pierre Gui passed it to those without, and the pax proceeded
+thus through the church.
+
+Guillem followed the book as it went from hand to hand; but he moved
+so slowly through the press that Archambaut had already received the
+pax, by the time he reached the little cell that held his treasure.
+Trembling, without daring to look up, he drew near, fully resolved to
+say at least a word, yet not knowing, even now, what it would be. With
+a prayer to Love to aid him, he approached, and as Flamenca kissed the
+psalter, he murmured: “Alas!” then withdrew, his head humbly bowed. Had
+he disarmed a hundred knights in a tourney, he would have been less
+happy.
+
+His joy was great, but of brief duration. It lasted while he folded up
+the altar cloths and put away safely the chalice and the paten; but,
+when he was alone in his room once more, he was all despair.
+
+“Alas,” he cried, “I deserve to die. Love, thou hast been of slight aid
+to me. I thought to throw a six, and I have come off with an ace. Never
+in this world could my lady have heard me. Else she would at least
+have lifted her eyes, nor so soon drawn back behind her screen. It was
+her wimple betrayed me, that covered her ears so closely. Curses on the
+father of such a fashion!”
+
+Flamenca, however, had not failed to hear Guillem’s “alas,” and
+suffered some despite from it. She showed no sign while Archambaut was
+with her; but, when he went out after dinner, she gave way to her grief.
+
+“It would have been for me, rather, to cry ‘alas!’” she made moan.
+“He suffers not, being neither sick nor in prison. Why then insult my
+sufferings? Dear God, what harm have I done him, that he should assail
+me in such a place?”
+
+“Come hither, sweet children,” she cried to Alis and Margarida, “and
+give heed to what is troubling me. A young man I know not, whose face I
+have never seen before, has basely insulted me.”
+
+“What young man, my lady?” demanded Margarida.
+
+“He who gave me the pax.”
+
+“What did he say, madam?” asked Alis.
+
+“I will tell you, though it pains me even to recall it. To mock and
+torment me, in handing me the psalter, he murmured ‘alas!’ as if it
+were he who suffered, not I.”
+
+“What was his bearing, my lady, as he said this?”
+
+“He kept his eyes cast down.”
+
+“Why, then, madam, I am not so sure he meant to insult you. It appears
+to me as if he felt some fear in your presence, rather than overweening
+pride.”
+
+“It is true,” reflected Flamenca, that “he blushed and sighed.”
+
+“Certainly,” then broke in Alis, “this young man did not seem so
+ill-bred as to wish to harm you. Besides, he is not the one who always
+gives us the pax. He is taller and handsomer. He is more skilled at
+reading, also, and sings more clearly. In short, he had all the seeming
+of a gentleman.”
+
+“My lady,” spoke up Margarida, once more, “I do not know this young
+man, or what he wants of you, but I think you would do well to discover
+his meaning.”
+
+“You speak as if that were an easy matter,” replied Flamenca,
+petulantly. “How can I?”
+
+“Christ, my lady,” exclaimed Alis, “if it were left to me, I should
+manage easily enough. Ask him! He said ‘alas’. Do you say to him now:
+‘Why do you complain?’”
+
+“I can try,” said Flamenca, still doubtful.
+
+So the following Sunday, when Guillem gave her the pax, she took the
+psalter and, tilting it a trifle towards Archambaut, she whispered:
+“Why do you complain?”
+
+It was Flamenca’s turn now to be troubled and to ask if Guillem had
+heard her.
+
+“Did you hear me, Alis?” she demanded when they had returned from
+church.
+
+“Not I, madam.”
+
+“And you, Margarida?”
+
+“No, my lady, I heard nothing. How did you speak? Show us, and we
+shall be able to tell you if he heard.”
+
+“Stand up, Alis,” commanded Flamenca, “and pretend you are giving me
+the pax. Take that copy of _Blanchefleur_ for the breviary.”
+
+Alis jumped up, ran to the table where the book lay, and came back to
+her mistress, who, for all her sadness, could scarce keep from laughing
+at the sight of the young girl counterfeiting the clerk. Then Flamenca,
+tilting the book a trifle, as in the church, and pretending to kiss it,
+said: “Why do you complain?”
+
+“There, did you hear me?” she asked eagerly.
+
+“Yes indeed,” they both cried. “If you spoke like that, there can be no
+doubt.”
+
+Next week, Guillem, this time having prepared his answer, came straight
+towards his lady, who loosened her wimple that she might hear the more
+clearly. As she took the pax, he said: “I die.”
+
+“Nay, he must not die, my lady!” cried Margarida, when Flamenca had
+repeated this response. “I swear I have never seen so handsome a young
+clerk.”
+
+“What can I do?” asked her mistress, weakly.
+
+“Ask him: ‘Of what?’ since that is what we wish to know.”
+
+This same Sunday the workmen came from Chatillon. They marvelled
+greatly at the oath Guillem required of them before making known the
+task they were to accomplish. This was to dig a passage under the
+ground between the baths and his own room. They were skilful and worked
+rapidly, in such wise that in short space the passage was completed and
+so cunningly contrived at both ends that not a sign of it showed.
+
+When, on the eighth day, Guillem gave the pax, Flamenca whispered: “Of
+what?” then drew back quickly.
+
+“My little Margarida, I said it,” she exclaimed when they were back in
+the tower.
+
+“Thank God for that, my lady! I only hope he heard you this time, too.”
+
+“You may set your mind at rest, my dear. He moved away so slowly that
+he could not have helped hearing me. Now we shall know the answer on
+Thursday, for that is the feast of the Ascension.”
+
+“Madam, methinks these feasts come far less often now than at any other
+season,” pouted Alis. “The rest of the year, when we have no need of
+them, there is one nearly every day. While here, this summer, we have
+had five full weeks with nothing but Sundays!”
+
+On his side, Guillem repeated Flamenca’s question and pondered it.
+
+“‘Of what?’ she asked me. Well, it will not be hard to tell her that,
+for I know only too well whereof I suffer.”
+
+Thursday, therefore, at tierce, he said: “Of love.”
+
+That night Flamenca lay on her bed, more pensive than ever, and with
+something resembling distress at her heart.
+
+“Well, what did he say, my lady?” asked Alis at last.
+
+“Ah, my friend, you could never guess. It is quite different from
+anything we might have imagined. He says it is love of which he
+suffers. Did anyone ever hear of a stranger coming thus to complain of
+love?”
+
+“Faith, madam,” laughed Alis, with a sly look at Margarida, “of what
+evil did you think he came here to complain? Surely, had he been beaten
+or robbed, he would not have sought to lay his complaint before you.”
+
+“But for whom is this love? pursued Flamenca, still puzzled.
+
+“Why my lady, I can guess readily enough,” replied Margarida, also
+laughing; “but since you would have sure knowledge, ask him that, too.”
+
+“Good God! Is it a jest?” cried Guillem on Sunday, when she had asked
+him: “For whom?” “Is it possible she does not suspect my love? How can
+she help knowing that I love her with all my heart? But, since she asks
+me, I will gladly tell her.”
+
+So on the day of Pentecost, Guillem, trembling, answered: “For you.”
+
+Then was Flamenca sore troubled.
+
+“What!” she exclaimed. “Can it be for me he cherishes an amorous
+desire? Then he must needs seek another mistress, for my love is no
+love at all, but sorrow and anguish. Sobs and sighs, troubles and
+tears, bitterness and sadness of heart—these are my near neighbors, my
+privy companions. What shall I do, what shall I say?”
+
+“My lady,” exclaimed Margarida, “whatever you do or say, you will
+surely not let that gallant young man love you and entreat you in vain!
+Who knows but God Himself has sent him to deliver you from prison?”
+
+“Even were I to return his love, I do not see how that would advantage
+him in aught,” said Flamenca.
+
+“Ask him, my lady. He has done so well already, he will surely know.”
+
+So, the following Sunday Flamenca said: “What can I do?” and the eighth
+day after Pentecost, on the feast of Saint Barnaby—a little feast for
+which Flamenca would no more have set foot out of doors than for that
+of a simple martyr not in the calendar—Guillem answered “Cure.”
+
+“How can I cure his ills, who am without remedy for my own?” pondered
+Flamenca, and her damsels counselled her to ask: “How?”
+
+“Trust him. He will easily find a way to compass your happiness at the
+same time as his own.”
+
+“May God in His mercy will it so,” sighed Flamenca, “for at present I
+do not see how we shall ever be able to do more for each other than we
+do now.”
+
+“In little space God works,” replied Alis devoutly, “and brave effort
+overcomes all obstacles.”
+
+The following Sunday was the feast of Saint John. It was not a day lost
+for Guillem, whose lady, in taking the psalter, and whispering: “How?”
+brushed his finger with her hand. When he was alone again, he sang for
+joy.
+
+“O God,” he cried, “I swear by the apostles and the prophets, I will
+give all my rents from France for the building of churches and bridges,
+if you will but let me see my lady face to face!”
+
+The next time, drawing near with a high heart, he said: “I have found a
+way!”
+
+“He has already found a way!” exclaimed Alis, gleefully. “Were this the
+olden time, lady dear, and there came such a friend to me, I should
+think ’twas Jupiter or some other God, who was in love with me.” Answer
+him boldly, then: “Take it.”
+
+Flamenca sighed, her colour came and went, she still hesitated.
+Suddenly Alis sneezed.
+
+“Bless you!” the damsel exclaimed. “Now everything is bound to come out
+right. We could not have a better omen.”
+
+“God bless you both,” cried Flamenca, deeply touched, “for all the hope
+and courage you have given me. I will do as you say, though I know not
+if, in thus accepting his love so readily, I shall not be dishonoured.”
+
+“My Lady,” Alis assured her, “there can be no dishonour, since Love
+wills it so.”
+
+Thursday was the feast of the passion of the two glorious apostles, who
+hold the first place after Saint Michael, in Paradise. That day, then,
+by her answer, Flamenca confirmed Guillem’s every hope. How shall I
+tell his delight? Now he was sure that Love wished to exalt him above
+all other lovers, and the next time he said to his lady: “I have taken
+it.” At the same moment their eyes met and their hearts embraced.
+
+“Can it be possible,” wondered Flamenca, “that in three days’ time, he
+has found a way whereby I may heal him? How wanting in faith was I! It
+was a sin even to doubt him. I promise now, before God, that if he can
+bring us together, I shall be his, and his alone, forever more.”
+
+“Small love do I owe the knights of my country! Two whole years have
+I dwelt in bitter grief, and not one has given a thought to me. And
+the knights of this country! Scarcely do they merit the renown of true
+knighthood, who permit a poor stranger lady to perish thus miserably!
+But this knight has a right to all my love, who, for my sake, has
+placed his own life in jeopardy.”
+
+So Flamenca hesitated no longer but next time asked him boldly: “What
+shall I do?” and eight days later Guillem, in his turn, answered: “You
+will go,” but did not say where. So, on the feast of the Magdalen,
+Flamenca inquired: “Where?” and the day following Guillem said: “To the
+baths,” whereat Flamenca divined he had found some way of coming to
+her in the baths, and prayed God and His saints that there might not
+thereby come to her any dishonour.
+
+On Tuesday, which was the feast of Saint James of Compostella, she
+demanded resolutely: “When?”
+
+Great was Guillem’s joy, and it would not have been hard for him to
+answer at once; but he would rather have let himself be tonsured with a
+cross like a thief, or branded with a red-hot iron, than speak a word
+which might have betrayed them.
+
+The fifth day thereafter he replied: “Soon.”
+
+Then again was Flamenca sorely distressed.
+
+“Fear, shame and love, draw me in different directions,” she cried.
+“Fear chides me and warns that, if he caught me, my husband would burn
+me alive. Shame bids me beware of the world’s dispraise. Love says,
+on the other hand, that Fear and Shame have never made a brave heart,
+and that she can never be called a true lover who, through them, lets
+herself be turned aside.
+
+“Yet, O Love, how grievous are thy darts! Never could I have guessed
+that to love meant to suffer so sorely! But, since I am at thy mercy,
+naught remains for me but to receive thee. Enter then into this
+dwelling which is thine own. My heart shall be thy chamber. Naught
+shall avail to oppose thy will, for I belong to thee only.
+
+“And to him who comes to claim that which I hold from thee, as thy
+vassal, I shall answer, without longer delaying, ‘With all my heart!’”
+
+At these words she fell into a swoon and remained without consciousness
+till Archambaut’s return.
+
+“Madam, here is our master,” cried Alis, fearful lest her mistress,
+awaking, might let fall some word to arouse his suspicions. She cried
+so loudly that Flamenca recovered her senses; but, before opening her
+eyes, she lay still a moment, to prepare what she should say to her
+husband.
+
+Archambaut was all disturbed. Bringing water, he dashed it in her face.
+Then at last, opening her eyes, and looking up, she drew a deep sigh.
+
+“My lady,” he inquired anxiously, “what ails you?”
+
+“My lord, a pain at my heart is killing me.”
+
+“I believe if you took a little nutmeg every day it would cure you.”
+
+“No, sire, the baths alone can bring me any relief. Lead me there on
+Wednesday, I beseech you.”
+
+It did not please lord Archambaut to have his wife go to the baths. He
+took her there as seldom as possible, and always examined each corner
+carefully before leaving her, for fear some man might be lurking in the
+corner; but he could not refuse her now.
+
+“Very well, I am willing,” he grumbled, going out in a bad humour to
+find Pierre Gui and to tell him to make ready the baths.
+
+Tuesday Flamenca, who found herself well enough to go to the church,
+said: “With all my heart,” and, with her left hand, lightly brushed
+Guillem’s right. He returned home in a state of rapture, and that
+evening he heard his host say to two servants:
+
+“Cleanse the baths and empty them so that they will fill up afresh for
+our lady, who will come tomorrow at an early hour.”
+
+Wednesday, at daybreak, Flamenca, feigning a return of her malady, made
+great dole, as well she might, for she had not slept a wink. She called
+feebly to her husband:
+
+“Never in all my life have I suffered as I do now. Hasten, I beseech
+you, and be not too vexed, for you will soon be rid of me. Indeed,
+rather would I die than endure my present pain; and, if the baths
+restore me not, already I hold myself to be no better than one dead.”
+
+The damsels were already up and dressed. They went first, taking with
+them their basins and unguents, while Archambaut followed reluctantly,
+leading his wife to her lover.
+
+When he had looked well in all the corners, as was his wont, he went
+out, locking the door. Quickly the damsels sprang to bar it on the
+inside. Then, looking at each other, they said:
+
+“What shall we do? We know not where or how he will enter, who has
+given us this tryst.”
+
+“I am no wiser than you,” replied Flamenca. “I see nothing changed in
+the appearance of the place. Yet I have no thought to undress, since I
+did not come here to bathe.”
+
+Scarcely had she spoken, when they heard a little noise. The next
+instant Guillem lifted a stone in the floor, and entered.
+
+In his hand he held a candle. His shirt and his breeches were of fine
+linen from Rheims. His shoes were of silk embroidered with flowers.
+His well-cut doublet was fashioned of some costly stuff, and he
+wore, on his head, a little cloth cap, sewn with silk. Love had lent
+him somewhat of his pallor, but he was only the handsomer for that.
+Kneeling before Flamenca, he said:
+
+“My lady, may He Who created you, and Whose will it is that you should
+be without peer for beauty and graciousness, save you—you and yours!”
+
+And he bowed low at her feet.
+
+“Fair sir,” replied Flamenca, “may He Who never lies and Who willed
+you to come hither, protect you, and permit you to accomplish all your
+desire.”
+
+“All my desire, sweet lady, all my thought, all my trouble and my pain,
+are for you, to whom I have given myself. And, if you, in turn, will
+give yourself to me, all my wishes will be fulfilled.”
+
+“Fear not. Since God has granted us to come together, you will have
+naught to complain of in me. Besides, since long time, my heart has
+been yours.”
+
+He took her in his arms and kissed her tenderly and embraced her, then
+said:
+
+“If it be your pleasure, we can seek, by the safe way I have made, the
+room where I have so often gazed upon your tower.”
+
+“As you will, sweet friend. I shall go whithersoever you lead me, sure
+that you will bring me back again in all security.”
+
+The passage was not dark, for it was lighted with candles, and, before
+they knew it, they were in the chamber, which was richly furnished with
+tapestries, with benches, with precious stuffs of all sorts, and strewn
+with green rushes.
+
+Guillem and Flamenca seated themselves upon a couch raised a little
+above the level of the floor, while Alis and Margarida took cushions at
+their feet.
+
+Flamenca looked at them fondly.
+
+“Dear friend,” she said, “never have these damsels grown weary in
+pleading your suit. And, had it not been for their wise counsels and
+good sense, never would you have had your desire.”
+
+Guillem thanked them warmly, begging them to accept of him girdles,
+diadems, ribbons, bracelets, brooches, rings, little bags of musk, and
+still other trinkets. Then, turning to Flamenca, he said:
+
+“Sweet love, a boon, I beseech you.”
+
+“Name it, dear friend. I think no wish of yours could prove displeasing
+to me.”
+
+“I have two cousins,” he answered, “Otho and Clari, who follow me that
+they, too, one day, may be made knights. It would please me were they
+to have some share in our happiness.”
+
+“How mean you?”
+
+“My squires are young and debonair, like your two damsels, in whose
+company they would not want whereof to speak. And, if they found it in
+their hearts to love one another, they would but love us the more.”
+
+[Illustration: Man and woman holding hands]
+
+“It shall be even as you say,” assented Flamenca gladly, and Guillem,
+opening the door, told his squires to enter.
+
+They marvelled greatly at seeing Flamenca, and when their eyes fell
+upon the two damsels, they believed they were under some spell. Quickly
+they fell to their knees.
+
+“Here am I, lady, to do your bidding,” said each of them in turn.
+
+Flamenca was well pleased, and welcomed the young men graciously. Then,
+turning to her young women:
+
+“Come hither, both of you,” she addressed them. “Here are two young
+men, and you are two, also. It is my wish that each should have her
+friend. Wait not to be entreated. ’Tis I, your mistress, who entreat,
+who tell, who command you, to do all their desire. Go to the baths.
+Pleasure awaits you there.”
+
+Then Alis chose Otho, and Margarida had Clari. Together all four went
+to the baths, where there were pleasant chambers, from which Alis and
+Margarida had no need to come forth as they went in, unless they so
+desired.
+
+When they were alone, Guillem, turning to Flamenca, said:
+
+“Long have I suffered for your sweet sake a martyr’s pains. Now that we
+have come together at last, I thank you for these; but you know not yet
+who I am, unless it be that Love has told you I am your man.”
+
+“My friend,” said Flamenca, “I doubt not you are of some high estate.
+This I know by the knightly soul you have shown in wishing to be my
+lover.”
+
+Then Guillem recounted to her, word by word, who he was, how he had
+come, and all he had done since he had been at Bourbon.
+
+When Flamenca knew what manner of man her Guillem was, she was so full
+of joy she gave herself to him without stint. She threw her arms about
+his neck and kissed him with all her heart.
+
+Many times did they kiss each other on the eyes and on the mouth and
+on the hands and on the neck, and many times did they do for each other
+all those things without which joy in love is incomplete. Each sought
+to appease the heavy burden and the long desire that each for the other
+had suffered.
+
+They took pleasure too, in rehearsing the words they had spoken, and
+so lovely was their delight, that man would not know how to record, or
+mouth to speak, or mind to conceive it.
+
+When it came time to part, Guillem called his squires and the damsels.
+These, their eyes wet with tears, thanked him for the happiness that
+had been theirs in the company of the young men.
+
+Guillem, too, wept when he took leave of his lady, for it seemed to him
+he would never see her more. He was, however, to see her again, and
+that many times; for, henceforth, Flamenca would return to the baths as
+often as she pleased.
+
+The season of sorrow and sadness was over at last for this lady and her
+two damsels. No longer did they remember their prison, or the jealous
+husband who kept them there in vain; for, from this sad trial, had
+sprung, for them, joy and happiness.
+
+
+
+
+  Transcriber’s Notes
+
+  pg 28 Changed: a desire that has taken fast hold of my heat
+             to: a desire that has taken fast hold of my heart
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75417 ***