iaucaire, and the folk of the country ran
together to wreck her, and there found they Aucassin, and they knew him
again. So when they of Biaucaire saw their damoiseau, they made great
joy of him, for Aucassin had dwelt full three years in the castle of
Torelore, and his father and mother were dead. So the people took him to
the castle of Biaucaire, and there were they all his men. And he held
the land in peace.

_Here singeth one_:

Lo ye, Aucassin hath gone
To Biaucaire that is his own,
Dwelleth there in joy and ease
And the kingdom is at peace.
Swears he by the Majesty
Of our Lord that is most high,
Rather would he they should die
All his kin and parentry,
So that Nicolete were nigh.
"Ah sweet love, and fair of brow,
I know not where to seek thee now,
God made never that countrie,
Not by land, and not by sea,
Where I would not search for thee,
If that might be!"

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

Now leave we Aucassin, and speak we of Nicolete. The ship wherein she
was cast pertained to the King of Carthage, and he was her father, and
she had twelve brothers, all princes or kings. When they beheld
Nicolete, how fair she was, they did her great worship, and made much joy
of her, and many times asked her who she was, for surely seemed she a
lady of noble line and high parentry. But she might not tell them of her
lineage, for she was but a child when men stole her away. So sailed they
till they won the City of Carthage, and when Nicolete saw the walls of
the castle, and the country-side, she knew that there had she been
nourished and thence stolen away, being but a child. Yet was she not so
young a child but that well she knew she had been daughter of the King of
Carthage; and of her nurture in that city.

_Here singeth one_:

Nicolete the good and true
To the land hath come anew,
Sees the palaces and walls,
And the houses and the halls!
Then she spake and said, "Alas!
That of birth so great I was,
Cousin of the Amiral
And the very child of him
Carthage counts King of Paynim,
Wild folk hold me here withal;
Nay Aucassin, love of thee
Gentle knight, and true, and free,
Burns and wastes the heart of me.
Ah God grant it of his grace,
That thou hold me, and embrace,
That thou kiss me on the face
Love and lord!"

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

When the King of Ca