winter came, and I fared as I was wont,
setting springes for fowl and small-deer. And for all the roughness of
the season, at that time it pleased me better than the leafy days,
because I had less memory then of the sharpness of my fear on that day
of the altar. Now one day as I went under the snow-laden trees, I saw
something bright and big lying on the ground, and drawing nearer I saw
that it was some child of man: so I stopped and cried out, 'Awake and
arise, lest death come on thee in this bitter cold,' But it stirred
not; so I plucked up heart and came up to it, and lo! a woman clad in
fair raiment of scarlet and fur, and I knelt down by her to see if I
might help her; but when I touched her I found her cold and stiff, and
dead, though she had not been dead long, for no snow had fallen on her.
It still wanted more than an hour of twilight, and I by no means durst
go home till nightfall; so I sat on there and watched her, and put the
hood from her face and the gloves from her hands, and I deemed her a
goodly and lovely thing, and was sorry that she was not alive, and I
wept for her, and for myself also, that I had lost her fellowship. So
when I came back to the house at dark with the venison, I knew not
whether to tell my mistress and tyrant concerning this matter; but she
looked on me and said at once: 'Wert thou going to tell me of something
that thou hast seen?' So I told her all, even as it was, and she said
to me: 'Hast thou taken aught from the corpse?' 'Nay,' said I. 'Then
must I hasten,' she said, 'and be before the wolves.' Therewith she
took a brand from the fire, and bade me bear one also and lead her: so
did I easily enough, for the moon was up, and what with moon and snow,
it was well nigh as bright as the day. So when we came to the dead
woman, my mistress kneeled down by her and undid the collar of her
cloak, which I had not touched, and took something from her neck
swiftly, and yet I, who was holding the torch, saw that it was a
necklace of blue stones and green, with gold between--Yea, dear
Champion, like unto thine as one peascod is to another," quoth she.

And therewith the distressfulness of her face which had worn Ralph's
heart while she had been telling her tale changed, and she came, as it
were, into her new life and the love of him again, and she kissed him
and laid her cheek to his and he kissed her mouth. And then she
fetched a sigh, and began with her story again.

"My mistress to