she cried. "Never again can I meet with my lover at the
casement, and he will believe that I am faithless to him. But I shall
devise some means to let him know that this is not so."

Having considered as to what she should do, the lady took a fine piece
of white samite, broidered with gold, and worked upon it as on a
tapestry the whole story of the nightingale, so that her knight might
not be ignorant of the nature of the barrier that had arisen between
them.

In this silken shroud she wrapped the small, sad body of the slain
bird and gave it in charge of a trusty servant to bear to her lover.
The messenger told the knight what had occurred. The news was heavy to
him, but now, having insight to the vengeful nature of her husband, he
feared to jeopardize the lady's safety, so he remained silent. But he
caused a rich coffer to be made in fine gold, set with precious
stones, in which he laid the body of the nightingale, and this small
funeral urn he carried about with him on all occasions, nor could any
circumstance hinder him from keeping it constantly beside him.

Wrap me love's ashes in a golden cloth
To carry next my heart. Love's fire is out,
And these poor embers grey, but I am loath
To quench remembrance also: I shall put
His relics over that they did consume.
Ah, 'tis too bitter cold these cinders to relume!

Place me love's ashes in a golden cup,
To mingle with my wine. Ah, do not fear
The old flame in my soul shall flicker up
At the harsh taste of what was once so dear.
I quaff no fire: there is no fire to meet
This bitterness of death and turn it into sweet.

_The Lay of Eliduc_

In the tale of Eliduc we have in all probability a genuine product of
native Breton romance. So at least avers Marie, who assures us that it
is "a very ancient Breton lay," and we have no reason to doubt her
word, seeing that, had she been prone to literary dishonesty, it would
have been much easier for her to have passed off the tale as her own
original conception. There is, of course, the probability that it was
so widely known in its Breton version that to have done so would have
been to have openly courted the charge of plagiarism--an impeachment
which it is not possible to bring against this most charming and
delightful poetess.

Eliduc, a knight of Brittany, was happy in the confidence of his King,
who, when affairs of State caused his absence from the realm, left his
trusted adherent behind