to consider it. God, who is full of mercy, caused her to delay
a little; and while she passes in review her sorrow and her misfortune,
behold there comes riding apace a Count with numerous suite, who from
afar had heard the lady's loud outcry. God did not wish to desert her;
for now she would have killed herself, had she not been surprised by
those who took away from her the sword and thrust it back into its
sheath. The Count then dismounted from his horse and began to inquire
of her concerning the knight, and whether she was his wife or his
lady-love. "Both one and the other, sire," she says, "my sorrow is such
as I cannot tell. Woe is me that I am not dead." And the Count begins
to comfort her: "Lady," he says, "by the Lord, I pray you, to take some
pity on yourself! It is meet that you should mourn, but it is no use to
be disconsolate; for you may yet rise to high estate. Do not sink into
apathy, but comfort yourself; that will be wise, and God will give you
joy again. Your wondrous beauty holds good fortune in store for you; for
I will take you as my wife, and make you a countess and dame of rank:
this ought to bring you much consolation. And I shall have the body
removed and laid away with great honour. Leave off now this grief of
yours which in your frenzy you display." And she replies: "Sire, begone!
For God's sake, let me be! You can accomplish nothing here. Nothing that
one could say or do could ever make me glad again." At this the Count
drew back and said: "Let us make a bier, whereon to carry away this body
with the lady to the town of Limors. There the body shall be interred.
Then will I espouse the lady, whether or not she give consent: for never
did I see any one so fair, nor desire any as I do her. Happy I am to
have met with her. Now make quickly and without delay a proper bier for
this dead knight. Halt not for the trouble, nor from sloth." Then some
of his men draw out their swords and soon cut two saplings, upon which
they laid branches cross-wise. Upon this litter they laid Erec down;
then hitched two horses to it. Enide rides alongside, not ceasing to
make lament, and often fainting and falling back; but the horsemen hold
her tight, and try to support her with their arms, and raise her up and
comfort her. All the way to Limors they escort the body, until they come
to the palace of the Count. All the people follow up after them--ladies,
knights, and townspeople. In the middle off the hall upon a dais t