rthage heard Nicolete speak in this wise, he cast his
arms about her neck.

"Fair sweet love," saith he, "tell me who thou art, and be not adread of
me."

"Sir," said she, "I am daughter to the King of Carthage, and was taken,
being then a little child, it is now fifteen years gone."

When all they of the court heard her speak thus, they knew well that she
spake sooth: so made they great joy of her, and led her to the castle in
great honour, as the King's daughter. And they would have given her to
her lord a King of Paynim, but she had no mind to marry. There dwelt she
three days or four. And she considered by what means she might seek for
Aucassin. Then she got her a viol, and learned to play on it, till they
would have married her on a day to a great King of Paynim, and she stole
forth by night, and came to the sea-port, and dwelt with a poor woman
thereby. Then took she a certain herb, and therewith smeared her head
and her face, till she was all brown and stained. And she let make coat,
and mantle, and smock, and hose, and attired herself as if she had been a
harper. So took she the viol and went to a mariner, and so wrought on
him that he took her aboard his vessel. Then hoisted they sail, and
fared on the high seas even till they came to the land of Provence. And
Nicolete went forth and took the viol, and went playing through all that
country, even till she came to the castle of Biaucaire, where Aucassin
lay.

_Here singeth one_:

At Biaucaire below the tower
Sat Aucassin, on an hour,
Heard the bird, and watched the flower,
With his barons him beside,
Then came on him in that tide,
The sweet influence of love
And the memory thereof;
Thought of Nicolete the fair,
And the dainty face of her
He had loved so many years,
Then was he in dule and tears!
Even then came Nicolete
On the stair a foot she set,
And she drew the viol bow
Through the strings and chanted so;
"Listen, lords and knights, to me,
Lords of high or low degree,
To my story list will ye
All of Aucassin and her
That was Nicolete the fair?
And their love was long to tell
Deep woods through he sought her well,
Paynims took them on a day
In Torelore and bound they lay.
Of Aucassin nought know we,
But fair Nicolete the free
Now in Carthage doth she dwell,
There her father loves her well,
Who is king of that countrie.
Her a husband hath he fo