reated her most kindly, telling her that for
love of her the Sieur Rudel would not adventure himself at Broye. Not
a word did she say of how she had mistreated him, and Solita answered
her jocundly for that her lord had held his pledge with her. But when
the castle was still, the princess took Solita by the hand and led her
down the steps to where Rudel stood against the pillar in the dark
hall.

"For thy sake, sweet Solita," she said, "is he bound. For thy sake!"
and she made her feel the manacles upon his hands. And when Solita had
so felt his bonds, she wept, and made the greatest sorrow that ever
man heard.

"Alas!" she cried, "that my dear lord should suffer in such straits.
In God's mercy, madame, I pray you let him go! Loyal service hath he
done for you, such as no other in the kingdom."

"Loyal service, I trow," replied the princess. "He hath brought such
shame upon my Court that for ever am I dishonoured. It may not be that
I let him go, without you give him back his word and bid him forth to
Broye."

"And that will I never do," replied Solita, "for all your cruelty."

So the princess turned her away and gat her from the hall, but Solita
remained with her lord, making moan and easing his fetters with her
hands as best she might. Hence it fell out that she who should have
comforted must needs be comforted herself, and that the Sieur Rudel
did right willingly.

The like, he would say to me, hath often happened to him since, and
when he was harassed with sore distress he must needs turn him about
to stop a woman's tears; for which he thanked God most heartily, and
prayed that so it might ever be, since thus he clean forgot his own
sad plight. Whence, meseems, may men understand how noble a gentleman
was my good lord the Sieur Rudel.

Now when the night was well spent and drawing on to dawn, Solita, for
very weariness, fell asleep at the pillar's foot, and Rudel began to
take counsel with himself if, by any manner of means, he might outwit
the Princess Joceliande. For this he saw, that she would not have him
wed her handmaiden, and for that cause, and for no cowardice of his,
had so cruelly entreated him. And when he had pondered a little with
himself, he bent and touched Solita with his hands, and called to her
in a low voice.

"Solita," he said, "it is in Joceliande's heart to keep us twain
each from other. Rise, therefore, and get thee to the good abbot who
baptised thee. Ever hath he stood my friend,