times for alms;
whereupon he caused require him of the count, and the latter, who
indeed besought God of nought else, freely resigned the boy to him,
grievous as it was to him to be parted from him. Having thus provided
his son and daughter, he determined to abide no longer in England and
passing over into Ireland, made his way, as best he might, to
Stamford, where he took service with a knight belonging to an earl of
the country, doing all such things as pertain unto a lackey or a
horseboy, and there, without being known of any, he abode a great
while in unease and travail galore.

Meanwhile Violante, called Jeannette, went waxing with the gentlewoman
in London in years and person and beauty and was in such favour both
with the lady and her husband and with every other of the house and
whoso else knew her, that it was a marvellous thing to see; nor was
there any who noted her manners and fashions but avouched her worthy
of every greatest good and honour. Wherefore the noble lady who had
received her from her father, without having ever availed to learn who
he was, otherwise than as she had heard from himself, was purposed to
marry her honourably according to that condition whereof she deemed
her. But God, who is a just observer of folk's deserts, knowing her to
be of noble birth and to bear, without fault, the penalty of another's
sin, ordained otherwise, and fain must we believe that He of His
benignity permitted that which came to pass to the end that the gentle
damsel might not fall into the hands of a man of low estate.

The noble lady with whom Jeannette dwelt had of her husband one only
son, whom both she and his father loved with an exceeding love, both
for that he was their child and that he deserved it by reason of his
worth and virtues. He, being some six years older than Jeannette and
seeing her exceeding fair and graceful, became so sore enamoured of
her that he saw nought beyond her; yet, for that he deemed her to be
of mean extraction, not only dared he not demand her of his father and
mother to wife, but, fearing to be blamed for having set himself to
love unworthily, he held his love, as most he might, hidden; wherefore
it tormented him far more than if he had discovered it; and thus it
came to pass that, for excess of chagrin, he fell sick and that
grievously. Divers physicians were called in to medicine him, who,
having noted one and another symptom of his case and being
nevertheless unable to disco