e but one wretched bed; this have they taken from under her, and
she lies in the very straw. This ails me more than mine own case, for
wealth comes and goes; if now I have lost, another tide will I gain, and
will pay for mine ox whenas I may; never for that will I weep. But you
weep for a stinking hound. Foul fall whoso thinks well of thee!"

"Certes thou art a good comforter, brother, blessed be thou! And of what
price was thine ox?"

"Sir, they ask me twenty sols for him, whereof I cannot abate one doit."

"Nay, then," quoth Aucassin, "take these twenty sols I have in my purse,
and pay for thine ox."

"Sir," saith he, "gramercy. And God give thee to find that thou
seekest."

So they parted each from other, and Aucassin rode on: the night was fair
and still, and so long he went that he came to the lodge of boughs, that
Nicolete had builded and woven within and without, over and under, with
flowers, and it was the fairest lodge that might be seen. When Aucassin
was ware of it, he stopped suddenly, and the light of the moon fell
therein.

"God!" quoth Aucassin, "here was Nicolete, my sweet lady, and this lodge
builded she with her fair hands. For the sweetness of it, and for love
of her, will I alight, and rest here this night long."

He drew forth his foot from the stirrup to alight, and the steed was
great and tall. He dreamed so much on Nicolete his right sweet lady,
that he slipped on a stone, and drave his shoulder out of his place. Then
knew he that he was hurt sore, natheless he bore him with what force he
might, and fastened with the other hand the mare's son to a thorn. Then
turned he on his side, and crept backwise into the lodge of boughs. And
he looked through a gap in the lodge and saw the stars in heaven, and one
that was brighter than the rest; so began he to say:

_Here one singeth_:

"Star, that I from far behold,
Star, the Moon calls to her fold,
Nicolete with thee doth dwell,
My sweet love with locks of gold,
God would have her dwell afar,
Dwell with him for evening star,
Would to God, whate'er befell,
Would that with her I might dwell.
I would clip her close and strait,
Nay, were I of much estate,
Some king's son desirable,
Worthy she to be my mate,
Me to kiss and clip me well,
Sister, sweet friend!"

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

When Nicolete heard Aucassin, right so came she unto him, for she was not
far awa