, so he came into that place and
Aucassin was ware of him. He gat his sword into his hand, and struck at
his helm with such a stroke that it drave it down on his head, and he
being stunned, fell groveling. And Aucassin laid hands on him, and
caught him by the nasal of his helmet, and gave him up to his father.

"Father," quoth Aucassin, "lo, here is your mortal foe, who hath so
warred on you and done you such evil. Full twenty months did this war
endure, and might not be ended by man."

"Fair son," said his father, "thy feats of youth shouldst them do, and
not seek after folly."

"Father," saith Aucassin, "sermon me no sermons, but fulfill my
covenant."

"Ha! what covenant, fair son?"

"What, father! hast thou forgotten it? By mine own head, whosoever
forgets, will I not forget it, so much it hath me at heart. Didst thou
not covenant with me when I took up arms, and went into the stour, that
if God brought me back safe and sound, thou wouldst let me see
Nicolette, my sweet lady, even so long that I may have of her two words
or three, and one kiss? So didst thou covenant, and my mind is that thou
keep thy word."

"I?" quoth the father; "God forsake me when I keep this covenant! Nay,
if she were here, I would have burned her in the fire, and thou thyself
shouldst be sore adread."

THE LOVERS' MEETING

Aucassin was cast into prison as ye have heard tell, and Nicolette, of
her part, was in the chamber. Now it was summer-time, the month of May,
when days are warm, and long, and clear, and the nights still and
serene. Nicolette lay one night on her bed, and saw the moon shine clear
through a window, and heard the nightingale sing in the garden, and she
minded her of Aucassin her friend, whom she loved so well. Then fell she
to thoughts of Count Garin of Beaucaire, that he hated her to death; and
therefore deemed she that there she would no longer abide, for that, if
she were told of, and the Count knew where she lay, an ill death he
would make her die. She saw that the old woman was sleeping who held her
company. Then she arose, and clad her in a mantle of silk she had by
her, very goodly, and took sheets of the bed and towels and knotted one
to the other, and made therewith a cord as long as she might, and
knotted it to a pillar in the window, and let herself slip down into the
garden; then caught up her raiment in both hands, behind and before, and
kilted up her kirtle, because of the dew that she saw lying deep