Aucassin and Nicolette | Page 6

faith," said Aucassin, "then I am very sorry that a man of your age should be a liar.--Count of Valence, you are my prisoner."
"Sir, it is even so," said the Count.
"Give me your hand!" said Aucassin.
"Sir, right willingly."
He put his hand in his.
"This you pledge me," said Aucassin, "that never in all your days to be shall it be in your power to do shame to my father or to do hurt to him or his, and you not do it!"
"Sir," said he, "for God's sake, mock me not, but set me a ransom! You can ask me nothing, gold or silver, war-horses or palfreys, sables or ermines, hounds or hawks, that I will not give you."
"How now?" said Aucassin. "Wot you not that you are my prisoner?"
"Aye, sir," said the Count Bulgarius.
"Ne'er help me Heaven," said Aucassin, "save you give me this pledge, if I send not your head a-flying!"
"I' God's name," said he, "I give you what pledge you please!"
He gave the pledge; and Aucassin set him on a horse, and himself mounted another, and conducted him till he was in safety.
_Here they sing_.
When Count Warren saw indeed?That he never will succeed?Aucassin his son to get?From bright-favoured Nicolette,?In a pris'n he had him set,?In a dungeon hid from day,?Builded all of marble grey.?Now when Aucassin came there?Sad he was--so was he ne'er.?Loud lamenting he fell on,?Thus as you shall hear anon.
"Flow'r o' the lily, Nicolette!?Bright-faced sweetheart, Nicolette!?Sweet as cluster of the vine,?Sweet as meed in maselyn.?This I saw some yesterday,?How a pilgrim on his way--?Limousin his land was--lay?Fevered on a bed within.?Grievous had his sickness been,?Great the fever he was in.?By his bedside Nicolette?Passing, lifted skirts and let--?'Neath the pretty ermine frock,?'Neath the snowy linen smock--?Just a dainty ankle show.?Lo, the sick was healed, and lo,?Found him whole as ne'er before.?From his bed he rose once more,?And to his own land did flit,?Safe and sound, whole ever whit.
Flow'r o' the lily, Nicolette!?Coming, going, ever pleasing,?In thy talk and in thy teasing,?In thy jest and in thy joying,?In thy kisses, in thy coying!?There is none could hate thee, dear!?Yet for thy sake am I here,?In this dungeon hid from day,?Where I cry Ah, well-a-way!?Now to die behoveth me,
Sweet friend, for thee!"
_Here they speak and tell the story_.
Aucassin was put in prison, as you have listened and heard, and Nicolette was elsewhere in the chamber. 'Twas the summer time, the month of May, when the days are warm and long and bright, and the nights still and cloudless. Nicolette lay one night in her bed, and saw the moon shine bright through a window, and heard the nightingale sing in the garden; and she remembered Aucassin her friend, whom she loved so well. Then she fell a-thinking of Warren Count of Beaucaire, and how he hated her to death; and she thought within herself that she would abide there no longer; since if she were betrayed and Count Warren knew of her, he would put her to an evil death. She perceived that the old woman who was with her slept. And she arose and clad her in a goodly gown that she had of cloth-of-silk; and she took bedclothes and towels, and tied one to other and made a rope as long as she could, and made it fast to the window-shaft; and so got down into the garden. Then she took her dress in one hand before, and in the other behind, and girded herself, because of the dew she saw heavy on the grass, and went her way down the garden. She had golden hair in little curls, and laughing blue eyes, and a face finely curved, and a proud shapely nose, and lips more red than cherry or rose in summertime, and small white teeth, and little breasts that swelled beneath her clothes like two nuts of a walnut-tree. And her waist was so fine that your two hands could have girdled her; and the daisy-flowers snapped by her toes, and lying on the arch of her foot, were fairly black beside her feet and ankles, so very white the girl was.
She came to the postern, and unfastened it, and went out through the streets of Beaucaire, keeping to the shadow, for the moon shone very bright; and she went on till she came to the tower where her friend was. The tower had cracks in it here and there, and she crouched against one of the piers, and wrapped herself in her mantle, and thrust her head into a chink in the tower, which was old and ancient, and heard Aucassin within weeping and making very great sorrow, and lamenting for his sweet friend whom he loved so much. And when she had listened enough to him she began to speak.
_Here they sing_.
Nicolette the bright