stine form in
becoming a duck, the same reasoning will hold good as to the falcons
here. This type of the myth we may call the "Star's Daughter type."

The other type may be named after Melusina, the famous Countess of
Lusignan. The earliest writer to mention the legend which afterwards
became identified with her name, was Gervase of Tilbury, who relates
that Raymond, the lord of a certain castle a few miles from Aix in
Provence, riding alone on the banks of the river, unexpectedly met an
unknown lady of rare beauty, also alone, riding on a splendidly
caparisoned palfrey. On his saluting her she replied, addressing him by
name. Astonished at this, but encouraged, he made improper overtures to
her; to which she declined to assent, intimating, however, in the most
unabashed way, that she would marry him if he liked. He agreed to this;
but the lady imposed a further condition, namely, that he should never
see her naked; for if once he did so, all the prosperity and all the
happiness with which he was about to be blessed would depart, and he
would be left to drag out the rest of his life in wretchedness. On these
terms they were married; and every earthly felicity followed,--wealth,
renown, bodily strength, the love of his fellow-men, and children--boys
and girls--of the greatest beauty. But one day his lady was bathing in
the bedroom, when he came in from hunting and fowling, laden with
partridges and other game. While food was being prepared the thought
struck him that he would go and see her in her bath. So many years had
he enjoyed unalloyed prosperity that, if there ever were any force in
her threat, he deemed it had long since passed away. Deaf to his wife's
pleadings, he tore away the curtain from the bath and beheld her naked;
but only for an instant, for she was forthwith changed into a serpent,
and, putting her head under the water, she disappeared. Nor ever was she
seen again; but sometimes in the darkness of night the nurses would
hear her busy with a mother's care for her little children. Gervase adds
that one of her daughters was married to a relative of his own belonging
to a noble family of Provence, and her descendants were living at the
time he wrote.[196]

The story, as told of Melusina, was amplified, but in its substance
differed little from the foregoing. Melusina does not forbid her husband
to see her naked, but bargains for absolute privacy on Saturdays. When
Raymond violates this covenant he finds