y love by
continuing to love him with her whole heart, and to obey honour by never
giving any sign of her affection either to him or to any one else.

In the morning Amadour departed in the distress that I have described.
Nevertheless his heart, which was so lofty that there was none like
it in the world, suffered him not to despair, but prompted him to
new devices for seeing Florida again and winning her favour. So as he
proceeded to the King of Spain, who was then at Toledo, he took his way
through the county of Aranda, where he arrived very late one evening,
and found the Countess in great sadness on account of the absence of her
daughter.

When she saw Amadour she kissed and embraced him as though he had been
her own son, and this no less for the love she herself bore him as for
that which she suspected he had for Florida. She asked minutely for news
of her daughter, and he told her what he could, though not the entire
truth. However, he confessed the love which existed between them, and
which Florida had always concealed; and he begged the Countess to aid
him in hearing often of Florida, and to take her as speedily as possible
to Aranda.

At daybreak he went on his way, and when he had despatched his business
with the King he left for the war. So sad was he and so changed in
every way that ladies, captains, and acquaintances alike could scarcely
recognise him.

He now wore nothing but black, and this of a heavier pile than was
needful as mourning for his dead wife; but indeed her death served only
as a cloak for the sorrow that was in his heart. Thus Amadour spent
three or four years without returning to Court.

The Countess of Aranda hearing that Florida was changed and that it was
pitiful to see her, sent for her, hoping that she would return home. The
contrary, however, happened. When Florida learned that Amadour had
told her mother of their love, and that she, although so discreet and
virtuous, had approved of it, she was in extraordinary perplexity. On
the one hand she perceived that if her mother, who had such great esteem
for Amadour, were told the truth some mischief might befall the latter;
and this even to save her life she would not have brought to pass, for
she felt strong enough to punish his folly herself without calling on
her kinsfolk for assistance. On the other hand she saw that, if she
concealed the evil she knew of him, she would be constrained by her
mother and all her friends to speak to