rieved sorely over this, but she did not dare to show her
grief; for her lord at once would take affront, if she should speak to
him. So the matter remained a secret, until one morning they lay in bed
where they had had sport together. There they lay in close embrace, like
the true lovers they were. He was asleep, but she was awake, thinking
of what many a man in the country was saying of her lord. And when she
began to think it all over, she could not keep back the tears. Such
was her grief and her chagrin that by mischance she let fall a word for
which she later felt remorse, though in her heart there was no guile.
She began to survey her lord from head to foot, his well-shaped body and
his clear countenance, until her tears fell fast upon the bosom of her
lord, and she said: "Alas, woe is me that I ever left my country! What
did I come here to seek? The earth ought by right to swallow me up when
the best knight, the most hardy, brave, fair, and courteous that ever
was a count or king, has completely abjured all his deeds of chivalry
because of me. And thus, in truth, it is I who have brought shame upon
his head, though I would fain not have done so at any price." Then she
said to him: "Unhappy thou!" And then kept silence and spoke no more.
Erec was not sound asleep and, though dozing, heard plainly what she
said. He aroused at her words, and much surprised to see her weeping, he
asked her: "Tell me, my precious beauty, why do you weep thus? What has
caused you woe or sorrow? Surely it is my wish to know. Tell me now,
my gentle sweetheart; and raise care to keep nothing back, why you said
that woe was me? For you said it of me and of no one else. I heard your
words plainly enough." Then was Enide in a great plight, afraid and
dismayed. "Sire," says she, "I know nothing of what you say." "Lady, why
do you conceal it? Concealment is of no avail. You hare been crying; I
can see that, and you do not cry for nothing. And in my sleep I heard
what you said." "Ah! fair sire, you never heard it, and I dare say it
was a dream." "Now you are coming to me with lies. I hear you calmly
lying to me. But if you do not tell me the truth now, you will come to
repent of it later." "Sire, since you torment me thus, I will tell you
the whole truth, and keep nothing back. But I am afraid that you will
not like it. In this land they all say--the dark, the fair, and the
ruddy--that it is a great pity that you should renounce your arms; your
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