n de Biaucaire knew that he would avail not to
withdraw Aucassin his son from the love of Nicolete, he went to the
Captain of the city, who was his man, and spake to him, saying:

"Sir Count; away with Nicolete thy daughter in God; cursed be the land
whence she was brought into this country, for by reason of her do I lose
Aucassin, that will neither be dubbed knight, nor do aught of the things
that fall to him to be done. And wit ye well," he said, "that if I might
have her at my will, I would burn her in a fire, and yourself might well
be sore adread."

"Sir," said the Captain, "this is grievous to me that he comes and goes
and hath speech with her. I had bought the maiden at mine own charges,
and nourished her, and baptized, and made her my daughter in God. Yea, I
would have given her to a young man that should win her bread honourably.
With this had Aucassin thy son naught to make or mend. But, sith it is
thy will and thy pleasure, I will send her into that land and that
country where never will he see her with his eyes."

"Have a heed to thyself," said the Count Garin, "thence might great evil
come on thee."

So parted they each from other. Now the Captain was a right rich man: so
had he a rich palace with a garden in face of it; in an upper chamber
thereof he let place Nicolete, with one old woman to keep her company,
and in that chamber put bread and meat and wine and such things as were
needful. Then he let seal the door, that none might come in or go forth,
save that there was one window, over against the garden, and strait
enough, where through came to them a little air.

_Here singeth one_:

Nicolete as ye heard tell
Prisoned is within a cell
That is painted wondrously
With colours of a far countrie,
And the window of marble wrought,
There the maiden stood in thought,
With straight brows and yellow hair
Never saw ye fairer fair!
On the wood she gazed below,
And she saw the roses blow,
Heard the birds sing loud and low,
Therefore spoke she wofully:
"Ah me, wherefore do I lie
Here in prison wrongfully:
Aucassin, my love, my knight,
Am I not thy heart's delight,
Thou that lovest me aright!
'Tis for thee that I must dwell
In the vaulted chamber cell,
Hard beset and all alone!
By our Lady Mary's Son
Here no longer will I wonn,
If I may flee!

Then speak they, say they, tell they the Tale:

Nicolete was in prison, as y