s quite alone.

The presiding Druid interprets, not merely in the sense already given,
but with one of the philosophic commentaries, which, as has been said,
are distinctive of the book. The nature of the fountain is to reflect
not body but spirit. Spirit includes Will, Memory, and Judgment, and
when a man loves, his spirit transforms itself through all these ways
into the thing loved. Therefore when he looks into the fountain he sees
Her. In the same way She is changed into Him or some one else whom she
loves, and He sees that image also; but if she loves no one He sees her
image alone.

"This is very satisfactory" (as Lady Kew would say) to the inquiring
mind, but not so much so to the lover. He wants to have the fountain
shut up, I suppose (for my notes and memory do not cover this point
exactly), that no rival may have the chance denied to himself. He would
even destroy it, but that--the Druid tells and shows him--is quite
impossible. What can be done shall be. And here comes in another of the
agreeable things (to me) in the book--its curious fairy-tale character,
which is shown by numerous supernaturalities, much more _humanised_ than
those of the _Amadis_ group, and probably by no means without effect on
the fairy-tale proper which was to follow. Clidaman himself happens, in
the most natural way in the world, to "keep"--as an ordinary man keeps
cats and dogs--a couple of extraordinary big and savage lions and
another couple of unicorns to fight, not with each other, but with
miscellaneous animals. The lions and the unicorns are forthwith
extra-enchanted, so as to guard the fountain--an excellent arrangement,
but subject to some awkwardnesses in the sequel. For the lions take
turns to seek their meat in the ordinary way, and though they can hurt
nobody who does not meddle with the fountain, and have no wish to be
man-eaters, complications naturally supervene. And sometimes, besides
fighting,[147] and love-making, and love casuistry, and fairy-tales, and
oracles, and the finer comedy above mentioned, "Messire d'Urfe" (for he
did not live too late to have that most gracious of all designations of
a gentleman used in regard to him) did not disdain, and could not ill
manage, sheer farce. The scene with Cryseide and Arimant and Clorine and
the nurse and the ointment in Part III. Book VII., though it contains
little or nothing to _effaroucher la pudeur_, is like one of the broader
but not broadest tales of the Fabliaux