f she had travelled openly,
doubtless some one would have recognised them and done them harm, and
she would not have wished that to happen. So she avoided the dangerous
places and came to a mansion where she often makes her sojourn because
of its beauty and charm. The entire estate and the people on it belonged
to her, and the place was well furnished, safe, and private. There
Lancelot arrived. And as soon as he had come, and had laid aside his
clothes, the damsel gently laid him on a lofty, handsome couch, then
bathed and rubbed him so carefully that I could not describe half the
care she took. She handled and treated him as gently as if he had been
her father. Her treatment makes a new man of him, as she revives him
with her cares. Now he is no less fair than an angel and is more nimble
and more spry than anything you ever saw. When he arose, he was no
longer mangy and haggard, but strong and handsome. And the damsel sought
out for him the finest robe she could find, with which she clothed him
when he arose. And he was glad to put it on, quicker than a bird
in flight. He kissed and embraced the maid, and then said to her
graciously: "My dear, I have only God and you to thank for being
restored to health again. Since I owe my liberty to you, you may take
and command at will my heart and body, my service and estate. I belong
to you in return for what you have done for me; but it is long since I
have been at the court of my lord Arthur, who has shown me great honour;
and there is plenty there for me to do. Now, my sweet gentle friend,
I beg you affectionately for leave to go; then, with your consent, I
should feel free to go." "Lancelot, fair, sweet dear friend, I am quite
willing," the damsel says; "I desire your honour and welfare above
everything everywhere." Then she gives him a wonderful horse she has,
the best horse that ever was seen, and he leaps up without so much as
saying to the stirrups "by your leave": he was up without considering
them. Then to God, who never lies, they commend each other with good
intent.

(Vv. 6729-7004.) Lancelot was so glad to be on the road that, if I
should take an oath, I could not possibly describe the joy he felt at
having escaped from his trap. But he said to himself repeatedly that woe
was the traitor, the reprobate, whom now he has tricked and ridiculed,
"for in spite of him I have escaped." Then he swears by the heart and
body of Him who made the world that not for all the rich