eputation has suffered from it. Every one used to say not long ago that
in all the world there was known no better or more gallant knight.
Now they all go about making game of you--old and young, little and
great--calling you a recreant. Do you suppose it does not give me pain
to hear you thus spoken of with scorn? It grieves me when I hear it
said, and yet it grieves me more that they put the blame for it on me.
Yes, I am blamed for it, I regret to say, and they all assert it is
because I have so ensnared and caught you that you are losing all your
merit, and do not care for aught but me. You must choose another course,
so that you may silence this reproach and regain your former fame; for I
have heard too much of this reproach, and yet I did not dare to disclose
it to you. Many a time, when I think of it, I have to weep for very
grief. Such chagrin I felt just now that I could not keep myself from
saying that you were ill-starred." "Lady," said he, "you were in the
right, and those who blame me do so with reason. And now at once prepare
yourself to take the road. Rise up from here, and dress yourself in your
richest robe, and order your saddle to be put on your best palfrey." Now
Enide is in great distress: very sad and pensive, she gets up, blaming
and upbraiding herself for the foolish words she spoke: she had now
made her bed, and must lie in it. "Ah!" said she, "poor fool! I was too
happy, for there lacked me nothing. God! why was I so forward as to dare
to utter such folly? God! did not my lord love me to excess? In faith,
alas, he was too fond of me. And now I must go away into exile. But I
have yet a greater grief, that I shall no longer see my lord, who loved
me with such tenderness that there was nothing he held so dear. The best
man that was ever born had become so wrapped up in me that he cared for
nothing else. I lacked for nothing then. I was very happy. But pride
it is that stirred me up: because of my pride, I must suffer woe for
telling him such insulting words, and it is right that I should suffer
woe. One does not know what good fortune is until he has made trial of
evil." Thus the lady bemoaned her fate, while she dressed herself fitly
in her richest robe. Yet nothing gave her any pleasure, but rather cause
for deep chagrin. Then she had a maid call one of her squires, and bids
him saddle her precious palfrey of northern stock, than which no count
or king ever had a better. As soon as she had given him