says he:
"I never thought to be so afraid. And yet, if it were possible I should
gladly look out through some window or aperture at the procession
and the corpse." Yet he had no interest in either the corpse or the
procession, for he would gladly have seen them all burned, even had it
cost him a thousand marks. A thousand marks? Three thousand, verily,
upon my word. But he said it because of the lady of the town, of whom he
wished to catch a glimpse. So the damsel placed him at a little window,
and repaid him as well as she could for the honour which he had done
her. From this window my lord Yvain espies the fair lady, as she says:
"Sire, may God have mercy upon your soul! For never, I verily believe,
did any knight ever sit in saddle who was your equal in any respect.
No other knight, my fair sweet lord, ever possessed your honour or
courtesy. Generosity was your friend and boldness your companion. May
your soul rest among the saints, my fair dear lord." Then she strikes
and tears whatever she can lay her hands upon. Whatever the outcome
may be, it is hard for my lord Yvain to restrain himself from running
forward to seize her hands. But the damsel begs and advises him, and
even urgently commands him, though with courtesy and graciousness, not
to commit any rash deed, saying: "You are well off here. Do not stir
for any cause until this grief shall be assuaged; let these people all
depart, as they will do presently. If you act as I advise, in accordance
with my views, great advantage may come to you. It will be best for you
to remain seated here, and watch the people inside and out as they
pass along the way without their seeing you. But take care not to speak
violently, for I hold that man to be rather imprudent than brave who
goes too far and loses his self-restraint and commits some deed of
violence the moment he has the time and chance. So if you cherish some
rash thought be careful not to utter it. The wise man conceals his
imprudent thought and works out righteousness if he can. So wisely take
good care not to risk your head, for which they would accept no ransom.
Be considerate of yourself and remember my advice. Rest assured until
I return, for I dare not stay longer now. I might stay so long, I fear,
that they would suspect me when they did not see me in the crowd, and
then I should suffer for it."

(Vv. 1339-1506.) Then she goes off, and he remains, not knowing how to
comport himself. He is loath to see them b