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diff --git a/75417-0.txt b/75417-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b4fe91f --- /dev/null +++ b/75417-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1361 @@ + +*** 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 *** |