arble stone, and gilded, and the chapiters carved most
excellently: not many hangings on the walls, for the walls themselves
were carven, and painted with pictures in the most excellent manner;
the floors withal were so dainty that they seemed as if they were made
for none but the feet of the fairest of women. And all this was set
amidst of gardens, the like of which they had never seen.

But they entered without more ado, and were brought by the pages to the
Lady's innermost chamber; and if the rest of the house were goodly,
this was goodlier, and a marvel, so that it seemed wrought rather by
goldsmiths and jewellers than by masons and carvers. Yet indeed many
had said with Clement that the Queen who sat there was the goodliest
part thereof.

Now she spake to Clement and said: "Hail, merchant! Is this the young
knight of whom thou tellest, he who seeketh his beloved that hath been
borne away into thralldom by evil men?"

"Even so," said Clement. But Ralph spake: "Nay, Lady, the damsel whom
I seek is not my beloved, but my friend. My beloved is dead."

The Queen looked on him smiling kindly, yet was her face somewhat
troubled. She said: "Master chapman, thy time here is not over long
for all that thou hast to do; so we give thee leave to depart with our
thanks for bringing a friend to see us. But this knight hath no
affairs to look to: so if he will abide with us for a little, it will
be our pleasure."

So Clement made his obeisance and went his ways. But the Queen bade
Ralph sit before her, and tell her of his griefs, and she looked so
kindly and friendly upon him that the heart melted within him, and he
might say no word, for the tears that brake out from him, and he wept
before her; while she looked on him, the colour coming and going in her
face, and her lips trembling, and let him weep on. But he thought not
of her, but of himself and how kind she was to him. But after a while
he mastered his passion and began, and told her all he had done and
suffered. Long was the tale in the telling, for it was sweet to him to
lay before her both his grief and his hope. She let him talk on, and
whiles she listened to him, and whiles, not, but all the time she gazed
on him, yet sometimes askance, as if she were ashamed. As for him, he
saw her face how fair and lovely she was, yet was there little longing
in his heart for her, more than for one of the painted women on the
wall, for as kind and as dear as he de